( gwenaëlle lifts the note, although she doesn't really need to in order to read aloud: )

Gone hunting. The Walrus is gone. And he's left me a translation project that's going to take months, at best—

and Maker forbid he come back and I haven't done it, ( mildly aggrieved. she didn't have any plans to learn nevarran! she has to learn nevarran now! )

That's all. Gone hunting. I imagine you will have enough opinions on this to keep occupied. I found it this morning.