And three of them worked together, huddled, hunched over like old men, casting their eyes across the writing that was scattered across the island. Kneeling before the words scratched into rock in gesture almost like prayer—

They stood, one at a time - Ljuba first, and then her companions, Aisha, Armitage. 'Perhaps we should,' Aisha said, casting her eyes at the scrawlings of the author she knew not, and so it was agreed, the three began to write.

That which they lived was set down and so was set in stone, or better than stone, for even rock erodes. Stories within stories: is life not a story?

Stories within stories, a tale within a tale. The narrative flows, unstoppable as the turning tides, and yet. The current can change, the tale can turn. Sieze control of your own story, write your way out.

Stories within stories - here I stand and watch.

Day 7

Well, I'm not really one for following instructions written on trees, but then again, Armitage says it's basically just the same as following instructions on the holofora, only for back when there was no such thing. So here I am, doing what the writing on the cliffs and trees said I should, and getting down everything I can. It seems right aobut the writing being preserved though - we found what looks like an engineer's book from way back in the c20th and it looks almost perfectly preserved.

Life's difficult on the island, we can't connect to anything, can't call for help, and Asphodel swears they heard ghosts the other night. I don't know if I believe them, but we've got to write down what we find, so… they said that what they heard was a woman giving a hat to a man, telling him how he should take it because she wasn't about leading. Seems symbolic, not sure what it means though.

Well. We're going to try and capture some of the sheep on the island so I should stop this for now. Hope this writing thing works…