Erika had learned to write under Madame Carp's disapproving eyes, so that one day she could keep the shop's ledger book-- one more way her debtholder could squeeze value out of her.

Erika's penmanship was more functional than beautiful, nothing like the calligraphy that graced the pages of the letters that occasionally caught up with her on her travels. She made a game of copying Anneliese's script in the letters she sent in return.