[The shelters have all been built, and the Inquisition castaways have gathered up enough fruit and fish and hardtack to make a good meal, and it's only the growing darkness of the sky that jogs Simon's memory and makes him think he should check in with the one person back in Kirkwall who might worry. Just in case the official message about what's happened hasn't quite filtered down through the ranks yet. He excuses himself from the campfire and reaches for his crystal.]

I hate to say it on such short notice, but I'm not likely to be around for sparring this week. [It's largely facetious; he had mentioned that he was leaving, but the trip was meant to be a short one. Now, he's not so sure.]

I don't suppose you heard that we've been, ah, stranded for a bit.