His head still swam and he coughed periodically, but otherwise the time passed. Slowly at first, then when it became apparent nothing was going to happen after a while, the mare put the book down. She slowly took out a sheaf of rolled parchment and a quill that she somehow held in her mouth, feather be damned, before taking out what looked like an ink bottle wrapped in thick linens. Handy watched curiously as she held the rolled sheaf of parchment across the seat and scribbled some incomprehensible notes and drew vague shapes of what looked like squiggly balls, which he assumed were rocks, upon its surface. The most he could make out were some numbers. Measurements perhaps? Curiosity got the better of him.