Before she turned off the light, on her last night in Anyaclaver, once more Helen opened her mother's conchology book. Inside, there was a piece of folded paper that she was sure had not been there before. She unfolded it to find a rough map with -- perhaps to insure that she would know it was hers to take with her -- her name written on the top.

The map followed the route she had planned to take, but about five miles from Anyalaver, a picture of a cabin was penciled in, and beside it were the words: "Janet's Farm. Enter with Friendship."