This is Moroni, writing my own book with my own hand and my own name. I’d finished my abridgment of Ether’s Book, didn’t think I’d live long enough to write more. But I’m not dead yet. And when you’re a fugitive, there are two jobs: hide and write.
The Lamanites want to kill every Christian. I’m one, so I’m effectively dead. Dead man running.
[When I stop running, I write. These are just scraps. But they may help someone someday.] Jesus’s words to the twelve when he ordained them.