~ start febfdbd5-a51d-4538-993d-0dcb3315cf83
if is_quest_accepted
	Garrett: *Same crate, same hat, same tilt against the glare.* [#end]
		Science camp's northwest. Institute woman named Wren. His trail runs through her, not through me.
else
	Garrett: *Garrett tips his hat back with one finger, taking his time about it.*
		So you want the rest of it. Alright. My patrol told me two things and you're only going to like one.
	Garrett: First one's plain. He went north out the gate, toward the science camp. 
		Nothing strange there. Man with a bag of letters hits every camp with a box nailed to the wall. That's the job.
	Garrett: The second thing is what stuck with me. The patrol clocked something on the track behind him, keeping his pace, and the report puts it down as a rad runner. 
		An unusually big one, from the size of it.
	- Then it was hunting him
		Garrett: Maybe. But they never got a proper look. A shadow off the rocks, a set of paw prints in the wash, and that was the whole of it. 
			Big prints, spaced wrong for anything they'd seen before.
		Garrett: There's talk in the outer camps of one out that way that's bigger than the rest, and smarter than a runner has any business being. Folk swap the story like they swap weather. I don't put much stock in it, but I don't put none either.
			Whatever it was, it was headed the same direction north he was. 
	Garrett: [#quest_info=eb7ae6b6-c68a-40b7-841c-2eb5d4a823c4]
	if is_quest_accepted:
		Garrett: Good. Watch the road. Whatever paced him didn't pack up and go home. [quest: accepted] [#end]
	else:
		Garrett: Suit yourself. He's not my mail. [quest: declined] [#end]
=> END

~ start bedbea7a-10ae-48f9-8748-c62e18410763
Wren: *The science camp is a scatter of tents and salvaged antennas humming in the wind. Wren Harper looks up from a workbench of half-gutted radios. A bundle of envelopes sits at her elbow, pinned flat under a chunk of quartz.*

if is_quest_accepted and are_quest_requirements_met
	Wren: The mailman. He came through, yeah.
		Quiet. Didn't want water, didn't want to trade. Asked if anything here was addressed out. Then he left me those.
	Wren: *She glances at the envelopes under the quartz. Doesn't touch them.*  [#complete_quest]
		Three letters. For me. I don't know the hands they're written in, and I don't know how anyone out there had my name to put on them.
	- Did he say where he was going?
		Wren: [#load_quest=ba4344ec-e618-45a0-9d0d-87305c449471]
else
	Wren: *She doesn't look up from the radio.* [#end]
=> END