When Bainith awoke, he knew without looking that he was alone again in the bed. Valanyonnen, the earlier riser, had made it out of the house without being noticed. This was partly Bainith's fault; he had attempted to stay awake until morning, but when the larks and robins began their early calls, it was a gentle enough lullaby to bring Bainith slumber.
He dressed quickly and went down the stairs, momentarily feeling panic set in when he saw that the pages left on the steps were gone. This anxiety was brief; seconds later he noticed a stack on the table and rushed over to them. The sheets that he had dropped and scattered were carefully stacked and situated on the corner of the high wooden piece of furniture; his quill was cleaned, the ink set beside it. Everything was in order, and now Bainith wondered if Valanyonnen had simply stacked up the sheets, or if he had read each of them as they were picked up.
Placing everything once more into his pack, Bainith set out to track down everyone on his list of people he had to speak to. He was not looking forward to all of them, but at least it would keep his mind busy and from worrying about Valanyonnen's reaction when they would next see each other.
-end-
