As proof of time well spent, upon her return she presented him with perhaps a dozen journals, each one filled cover-to-cover with her neat, handwritten documentation of her travels, experiences, and contemplations along the way. Most also contained several inserted maps attesting to her itinerary; some with myriad stopping points noted along the various routes, some with many fewer, including a number where the resting place was nowhere near any travelled route but far, far out in the wilderness. It was these that also contained the most interesting entries.
Even though he found these to be of some considerable interest, he knew that—while they certainly had their value—the richest literary treasures were far more likely to follow.
He also knew that, having thusly presented her journals, she would no longer feel the acolyte’s responsibility to share any future work with him; no need to seek out praise or even acknowledgement. He knew that she would simply write, and that he—if he wished to extend and enhance his own meager enlightenment—would avidly seek her words.
