The fire rests

The great hearth-engine that warms this little corner of the world has asked for attention, as faithful machines sometimes do. Its embers are banked, its rooms stand quiet, and nothing of the camp is lost — every story, every wish, every tool sleeps safely in the dark, waiting.

Word has been sent beyond the mountains. The Outer Engineers are at work, and a new heart for the apparatus is on its way. When it arrives, the keeper will strike the flint, the lamps will come up one by one, and the camp will be exactly where you left it.

Come back by and by. The kettle will be on.