Prologue: The First Delivery [Closed]

[Zyanya]

"Don't let yourself be seen," she says, as if I'd come galloping through blowing a blasted trumpet. That Naanel, she's a bloody mother hen.

 

No one here. Sounds about right... birds are singing. Evening in a few bells. How does she know he'll come this way? Why would anyone live here? There's nothin' but trees. Well, not my problem if he doesn't see it.

 

This is the spot. Just as she described it. Place the book here... and job done.

 

 

I'm half tempted to read it, but she made me promise not to. Should I? No. Well. Hells, just a peek.

 

Some folded papers. Bah, letters... none of my business. Something fell. What's this?

 

 

 

 

Well... never would have thought you an artist, mother hen.

 

I'd best put this back. Time to go.

 

Hope you find it, kid.

 

 

 

(The continuation can be found here.)