On the last day of January, Esme sat in the library early morning, reading through another one of her books while taking notes with a quill. The ink neatly imprinted her pages with her cursive writing. She had been engraved in her work; she was oblivious to the sound of Nolly appearing into the room. Her eyes scrunched together as she focused on the main details, trying to sort out what was important and what was not.