Settling indoors from day’s play, sisters sat down for piping cocoas over a conversational session of journaling and scrapping. Kylie’s thoughts had been racing replays through her inner thoughts all the way home and she was sure that would provide an easy transfer into written words, but her pen just hovered over the page as her mind wished for return to afternoon’s adventure. Then, half-subconsciously, her hand began to trace tracks over the page, following the paths the komatik had taken them—through the open field, cutting the glacial glen, over the iced waters, her pen scratching the paper so slightly synonymous to the steel that had scraped glidings over gelid horizons. It was like one of those literary maps they print on the first page of an epic, showing notable places of the hero’s journey; though, she still needed to label the points of interest and, truth be told, her joy initially fell in skating the pen over the paper more than recognizing interest in its marked lines. But, as she began to out-fill the view with geographical points and even the cam-snow-flaged wildlife they had spotted, she felt a warmthful security—more so than that from washes of chocolate sipped—in the memory she was etching, eliminating its ephemerality in an [equally] enduring, emotive experience. ; )