Daphne didn't like how often Furley and her seemed to be arguing these days. She always felt so foolish afterwards. Childish. She'd always been the one to not care and simply walk away, or stand there silently when someone would try to argue with her. But now somehow she didn't always do that anymore.
As she sat on her bed, looking at the note he'd given her days ago, her mind went to their most recent issue. Now, looking back, she felt he'd been so snarly out of worry. But still, it had seemed he had no trust in her at all. She promised she wouldn't run off to Forochel; when had her word suddenly become not enough? She felt she should appreciate his worry, but she couldn't quite tell if she was only imagining that either. All she knew was she'd promised him, again, she would stay with him.
Her eyes roamed the letters on the page, not comprehending what they were saying to her. It irked her. He knew she couldn't read. Did he expect her to ask someone else to read it to her? Was it important? Most likely a list of big words she didn't know existed. But still...it didn't feel like it was.
She liked the way the letters looked. His handwriting was nicer to gaze at than her uncle's. Maybe as nice as Mama's had been. Maybe Daphne would have to learn. But who would even want to teach her? A stubborn, easily annoyed woman like her? She shook her head with a smirk at herself. She knew that would be a chore.
Suddenly her brain went back. Why had she thought they were supposed to be in Trestlebridge? She didn't make that up from nowhere. Perhaps the stress of recent events had messed with her mind.
She gently brushed her fingertips across the signature at the bottom, which she could recognise by now. "That must be it. The stress."
