Three: The Black Missive
by Lyn Thorne-Alder
The walk to the strange man’s cave was only an hour because of the rolling limp that affected his walk, and, it seemed, his speech patterns. He would go up and down, up and down with his tales as they walked, telling Raizel all about the Empire’s plans to read everyone’s mind, only to turn around and whisper, so very quietly, that the birds were there to spy on him, and then be back to shouting again.
Three times, Raizel offered to go on ahead, and three times he turned her down, each time more angrily than before. The last time, he swept both hands in wide denial, as if clearing off a table. “You only want the falcon for yourself! I will get some other child to get it, someone who is less greedy!”
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