"Sorry," she says, and hugs her again.

"...If I leave it here even after writing on it, are you going to read it?"

"I don't know. Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Okay, then I won't." She grins. "I promise."

"You seem sufficiently confused by the concept of promises that I'm not sure what to read into that."

"Well, you just explained them, didn't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I did." She chews her lip. "Don't take it personally if I decide to move it anyway - sometimes I'm paranoid."

"Okay," she says agreeably.

It's going to be hard to write in the dark, but she has all night every night to let her eyes adjust, Etty supposes. She starts looking for a flat rock that will be suitable for writing on.

There's one on top of the pile that should do nicely.

Excellent. And she's not going to be able to see any letters she puts down, yet, and Nona's standing right there, so it is not yet time to do her processing. "Is he still away?"

"I guess he is. He usually goes to the lake first, when he comes home from something."

"Maybe Carl is hard to kill."

"Maybe!"

"But probably not."

Hugs.

Hug hug.

"I'm afraid," murmurs Etty. "Of what will happen when he comes back."

"It's scary," says Nona, hugging her. "I'm sorry."

"Why is he like this, what happened - or has it always been this way?"

"I don't remember it that well," she says. "I was - well, about the age I look, when Mother left. A little older when he finally brought her back."