Cal went back inside and organized her sketchbooks from the trip. She had books covering the better part of a wall in the room she used as a studio when she was home. Except for the ones her father had out, these represented all the years of Cal's art. She left one book out and took it over to her desk. The entire book was filled with her attempts to recreate the drawing she'd burned on the Kestrel. The task was made more difficult because she had no idea what it represented or what the scale of it was. She looked through the book, then closed it and sighed. Maybe Pentam could make something of it. Chemistry was his expertise; he might be able to figure something out.