Dear Grey,

Mythic City is nothing like Eldon Well.  It’s so dry, and the wild areas outside of town are more desert than anything else.  The parks in town are little more than glorified gardens.  Iron Mountain Park is the closest thing to wilderness, and it’s a joke.  Two days ago, I overheard two hikers saying it was a challenge.  I could barely keep from laughing out loud.  The people here know nothing of the real thing, going out beyond the standard trails and following the path the land gives you.

I was lucky to find the house I’m living in.  It’s not nice like the cabin, and I don’t know if I want to spend the effort into making it something I like.  I don’t want this place to feel like home. I don’t want it to be home.  I want to be with you.  I want to be able to run to Mount Washington with you, chasing and being chased.  I want to be able to wake up and feel your arms around me.

But that can’t happen.  Not yet.  Not until I’ve finished what I came here to do.  Until then, dream of me.

Love, with and without fleas,

Rey