There is a a ledger, in large satchel of hers, well protected from weather, containing all the maps, drawings, notes of value, some Eglain history and stories of Old kingdoms their lives are so tied with.
With a curved bow in his hand, he marched through the barren wasteland underneath the mask of darkness the land has given him. Soon, he shifted from being out in the open towards the cover of trees and rocks to hide him from sight. He waited, and his instincts were correct for soon, he had heard voices. Voices he recognized – one was croaky and crisp with age and weariness, whilst the other was simply aggressive and showing strength through even his voice.