I love you. I miss you. I want you to know that none of this is your fault. It is true, if you had not succumbed to the wasting I probably would not have wound up on this path, but, we both know that things were not going well for us financially and our hands would have been forced sooner or later, and who knows where I would have wound up then. I don’t regret the things I have done, I am, in fact, rather proud of some of my accomplishments. I do regret that it doesn’t look as if I am going to be around long enough to see some of my latest ideas to fruition.
I’m stuck, Daddy, stuck in a tree, on the Trulla Island, on the outskirts of a ruined fort that is currently occupied by and aggressive tribe of Trulla… and yes, there are different types of tribes. The series of events that brought me here are a tale all in themselves, but I find I don’t have the heart to lay them out for you in any form worth hearing. I wish you were here right now. Wish you could swoop in, scoop me up and deposit me in the parlor with Momma’s afghan and a cup of hot chocolate while you dealt with the things in the world that want to hurt your Cecily dearest.
I’m scared. I think that if we continue forward I am not going to make it off this island alive. I don’t know how to convince Icarus and the others that it is really a bad idea and if we try to get into the remains of Fort Stalwart we are all going to die horrible deaths at the hands of those trulla down there.
Come get me, please. I promise I will be nice to the young men who come calling, clean the grease out from under my nails and let Mrs Carverson dress my hair.
Your devoted daughter,