It had faded into early morning, and Bella could hear the sounds of the fire 
dying down. The cavern she had found was nearly perfect -- cool, damp, and 
low-ceilinged. The fresh pain of the blisters was beginning to subside into 
a slow ache, so she glanced towards the pile of books balanced on a rock 
ledge -- books that she had saved. 

During her novitate, Bella had learned the First Guideline of the Deneirrath: 
"Writing is the first thing. It is not always necessary to give your life 
for writing, but you should be ready." The archetypal example of the Guideline 
had been carrying books out of an inferno; she couldn't remember just how 
she'd gotten out, but some instinct had made her obey the Guideline-- no, 
not instinct. Faith. *It took a fire to prove it, but I am still faithful... 
I am still faithful...* The thought gave her some comfort, and she couldn't 
hear the stinging laughter anymore... but there was still a loose end. 

She straggled to her feet, wincing, and walked the slow and excruciating path 
to the rock ledge. The first book on the pile was her journal, and she picked 
it up gingerly, paging through until she found the letter and lifted it out 
of the journal by one corner. The pages were still mostly white and clean; 
there was no new damage, at least. One crisp motion, and she was reading 
the first page. 

"Dearest Loved Ones..." Yes, it was there, but Bella skimmed the rest of the 
spidery script just to be sure. Once she was confident of the placement of 
the memorized words, she refolded the letter, returned it to its place, and 
took her place on the cavern floor again. She could rest now; that duty, 
like the First Guideline, was fulfilled.