[ The confusing explanations of how time works here leave her no wiser as to what sort of decade he means. A decade in this land? A decade in Camelot? Some form of both, or neither?
Her anger breaks like a storm. Loneliness, sadness, fear fall like rain and put out the fire in a moment.
It takes her a while to write back. ]
I apologise, then. For not having been somebody you might speak with. I hope there was someone.