Swamped

"If I'm going to stay here for a while, I should send a message to the camp. They ought to know I'm all right."

The one-armed woman stands up to protest, but the old woman just raises a hand, and she sits back down.

"She's worried you'll reveal too much about where you are," says the old woman. "But, as you were about to explain, if you just go missing without a trace you'll worry your companions, and who knows where they might go if they search for you. And I certainly don't intend on keeping you here forever. You can even go back in the wagon once we're done with it."

"How long will that be?"

The old woman just shrugs. Wonderful.

"In the meantime, you've got a point. You ought to send a message. A simple one, one they'll know is from you, but that also makes it clear they've got nothing to worry about. Without revealing too much about where exactly you are."

"That would be easier to write if you'd tell me when I can go back."

"It would, wouldn't it," she says. Of course, she's still not giving you a straight answer.

"It shouldn't take that long to search the wagon. Not so long that you couldn't give me a guess, at any rate. Why string me along like this?"

"Interesting question," she says. "But you're a clever one. Let's see if you can come up with a good answer for that on your own before I give you mine."

Well. That's a frustrating response, but you suppose you weren't expecting a direct answer from her. You might as well put forward your best guess.