[She’s asked for a quick reply, and that was what he tried to give, though his handwriting was still neat, with careful flourishes. ]

Murphy,

I don’t know whether to think of quieter campfires wistfully or with sadness. I suspect that you miss them being a little louder.

And no, I didn’t dream, either before being cleaned of blood or when I was made to sleep after that, before my place in this world was determined. I’ve dreamed since then, but I can’t think of anything particularly notable about them. I admit that you’ve sparked my curiosity now, and I look forward to the explanation whenever you feel able to share it.

My regards,

Machaíri