She survived.

She wrote it down.

The writing survived.

Everything that makes her story fully knowable — rather than a footnote in someone else’s account — came from her hands, in the same way that the fox traps and the skin boats and the reindeer parka and the moccasins for Bennett came from her hands.

She made the record as she made everything else on Wrangel Island: by doing the work that was required, in the environment she found herself in, with the tools she had available.

The tools were enough.

The knowledge was enough.

She came home.