Zhi scooted the book towards Styrm and crawled over to the pile of blankets. She extracted the notebook and grease pencil. The notebook had seen better days, by that time, and considerable use had worn the grease pencil down. But both were still more or less useable, and Zhi slid back into her spot with one in each hand. She offered them to Styrm, watching him with an uncertain fascination.
