“Sit with me.” Ruth pulled a stool next to her. Anna jumped up and sat. On the table beneath her, Ruth had laid open a sheet of almond-colored parchment. The letters she had scratched across its surface, black as raven feathers, were still wet.

“What is all this?” Anna asked, her eyes scanning across the tops of thick earth-colored jars laid in rows along the floor.

“This,” Ruth indicated with a sweep of her arm, “is a record of our foremothers’ knowledge.” She pointed to a grouping of the tallest jars. “The volumes stored in these vessels catalogue the known healing efficacies of thousands of plants and other natural substances. The information they contain has been compiled by a limitless number of women over many, many years.”

Ruth watched Anna’s eyes widen. “You want to see?” she asked.

Anna nodded eagerly.

Ruth stepped down and lifted the tops of the taller jars. Inside the first were rolled scrolls of goatskin. The others contained sheets of papyrus bound together with leather.

Anna looked across the vessels’ gaping mouths and thought back to when she and Simon had stumbled upon the mysterious jars in the caves.

“But texts kept in jars do not last forever,” Anna said, recalling the disintegrated remains that had spilled from the shattered vessels.

“You speak the truth,” Ruth chimed. “Which is why it is my duty to protect and maintain them. If time or pests damage any manuscript, it is my job to reproduce it with the greatest precision. From time to time, I will also script additions into particular manuscripts to record recent discoveries, as we continually improve and perfect various cures.”

Anna stared at the rows of jars, saying nothing.

Ruth smiled. “Would you like to stay and watch me work?” she asked.

Anna looked up in surprise, and then replied, “Yes!”

Ruth returned to her table and stirred a pot of ink.

“Please bring a sheet of parchment from that pile,” Ruth instructed, pointing to a stack of papyrus sheets.

Anna did as she was told, remaining near the table. But when Ruth dipped her quill into the ink, Anna backed away, as if from something powerful she did not understand.

Ruth laughed. “No, no,” she teased. “Come close so you can watch,” she said. “Who knows? Maybe one day this will be your duty!”

Anna lifted her eyebrows.

Ignoring her disbelief, Ruth rubbed the tip of her quill along the blotter to clear the excess ink. She then bent to her work.

Anna stared in awe as Ruth placed familiar yet, to her, indecipherable marks onto the parchment. Anna had never seen a woman who knew how to write.