Dalnim came back today. I made soup—she loves my soup. My face must've been red as a plum. There's something about her that I can't quite place... She's rough. I've seen her around town before, and I don't want to jump to conclusions, but I know the Am Fah when I see them. Their confidence, the scars. They make the Brotherhood look like a bunch of louts. Which isn't wrong, if I had to say. I don't want anything to do with that life. I saw what it did to Papa. I don't recognize him, not anymore. But maybe I can't hide from that life any longer, not with everything else going on. The attacks, the plots... Her.