From the lighthouse, January

My dear!

I have been lying in wait for the mail carrier in hopes he would come this far out into the snowy wastes. Finally he brought me your letter, sent so long ago! Brave man. I made him come inside and thaw out and drink a mug of tea for his heroic efforts, but I do not think he enjoyed it, given the lioness's dislike of strangers. She lay by the fire eyeing him mistrustfully the entire time, while he dripped melting snow from every fold of his clothing.

Do not worry, as I am better now, but I fell ill in a terrible storm just past the turn of the year and spent weeks in a fever. Indeed, only the lioness saved me. She went out into the storm and dragged back driftwood. I had blocked the door open when I felt the fever coming upon me, and tacked a heavy canvas over the doorway, so that she could come and go and should not be trapped inside with me. Nor indeed did I like the idea that she might eat my remains, to be honest, as surely any animal would if trapped. I confess my mind was not quite right as the fever mounted, so I was sure I was dreaming the lioness bringing me driftwood, but I put it onto the fire anyway and it kept us both warm. But I'm afraid I became terribly weak and thin during this time. My health has only just begun to return. The lioness also brought me chickens and strings of fish, which I fear she must have stolen from some neighbors. You can see why I was afraid I was going mad, but the feathers and bones remain to tell the tale.

The scriptorium has been hard hit with illness and injury this winter! I hope that no more have come to harm in this harsh time of year. But here in the snows I like to imagine you all surrounded by warm sands under a comforting sun. I am so sorry for your losses and hope the rest of you are well.

Beans, corn, and squash sound glorious! The lioness and I--I call her Murra, for that is the contented sound she makes when she is cozy and comfortable and taking up far more than half the bed--will be forced to decamp as soon as the weather permits, I'm sorry to say, for I have come to like this lighthouse very much, especially the fine views over the ocean, when the wind relents enough to permit me to open the shutters. The blue and white glittering shores will be imprinted on my memory forever.

The captain we spoke of previously has not yet made his way to port, the postman tells me. So I have hope that I might catch him yet! I regret to say I traded my box of paints to a farm wife with five small children in exchange for the most tremendous quantity of sausages and dried greens. At least, it seems tremendous to me. The greens are especially welcome. I am going up and down those stairs again, very slowly at first, I admit, to try to gain back the strength I lost. We must travel into town soon to try to catch the captain when he docks. The postman says the captain always stays in town for a few days, but then again weather must always be a factor. I would hate to miss him.

The farm wife says that Queen Ellie down at the Anchor will always let a young lady stay over in the winter months for free in exchange for cooking and teaching the kitchen girls new dishes, so I can certainly try that, so I will be close enough when the captain arrives. If I feed her enough, Murra will be happy to sleep in any warm corner for as long as you like. Come to think of it, I would be happy to sleep in any warm corner, if fed enough. I feel I shall never be full and I am so starved, I am always cold. I'm wearing every stitch of clothing I own! Maybe Queen Ellie will trade me some old woolen dresses for teaching the maids new embroidery stitches. A girl can dream!

I have sent a note off to the Anchor with the postman and will send this as soon as he returns. I hope you are doing well with your researches and finding the answers to your queries! Do you plan to search farther afield, or will you stay at the scriptorium? I will write to you there, so I hope the other scribes will forward mail on for you if you strike out for richer resources.

This winter has been hard on you, my friend! Sending you all good wishes and hopes,

A.