A letter comes for Sawyer

[Isobella]

Early in the morning a messanger would arrive, seeking out a woman named Sawyer in the Broken Dagger. He was told that she kept a room there, and that he was to give the letter only to her.


Dear Sawyer,

I'm not sure if I will have the chance to write you again. We've stopped at a tavern about a day's journey outside of Myrken Wood. The longer I talk with the carriage driver the stranger things seem to be. I wish I knew exactly where I was going so that you could write.. but I worry that once i'm in New Dauntless that the journey will be too far for our letters to reach one another.

I miss you terribly already, I miss our little room above the tavern and I can't help but to think about you constantly. I need you to know if something happens to me, if somehow I don't come back when I said that I will.. that you shouldn't wait for me. One never knows what could happen, and I'm a little wary of some of the things I'm learning. I care about you tremendously Sawyer. Please give Darrin my best regards, tell him that I miss him too.

Love,

Janessa

[Pharris]

Sawyer had been spending a lot of time on her own, of late, occasionally keeping Quincy's company. It wasn't for any particular reason - although she had spent a goodly amount of time in her room, privately practicing her voice.

To sing. As she'd promised.

So she was easy enough to find. A knock at her door, and after brief, polite conversation with the messenger, Sawyer had the letter. The door was closed and she all but danced about the room, giggling in delight. It was a full minute's passing before she would be calmed enough to sit down beside her bed, open the letter, and read.

...strange things...
...something happens to me...
...shouldn't wait for me...
...a little wary of some of the things I'm learning...

Her face would screw up, at these. Brow furrowed, and white hair was pushed back, tucked behind her ear, so she could re-read the letter with two eyes. Perhaps... no, it was still the same. Green eye grew damp.

She knew it seemed odd! Knew in the pit of her stomach that something wasn't quite right! Hand rose to cover her face, and the wilder sniffed a little.

No, cease the despair, she willed of herself. It could be nothing at all. A deep breath was taken in, swelling her chest, and then slowly released. The wilder would draw up to her feet, and crossing the small room, place the letter neatly upon the table. Fingertips hesitant to release it for a long, solemn moment.

But eventually, they did, and Sawyer would move to sit once again upon the bed. She longed to reply, to say things in return - but she couldn't. Eventually, she would simply crumple back upon the bed. It would turn out okay, she told herself. She was merely overreacting, reading too deeply into things. That was it.

Before long, Sawyer was curled upon her side, reading Altias' latest offered book. She would not despair - but she no longer had a song in her, for today.

[Isobella]

It would seem that there had been an awful lot of letters being sent about lately, and it just so happened that one rather careless lad seemed to mutter to himself about those he had been employed to carry letters from. Not that it mattered all that much to Kreshan. He would have found his way to this town even if it hadn't been for that foolish boy.

Myrken Wood. Dark eyes would fall upon the town that lay before him and the barbarian would snort slightly. She had run here? To this little place, and expected to stay hidden. Granted his journey here had cost him a small fortune, but having her in hand would make it all worth it. He stopped a moment to fantasize about his future riches, but then the messenger boy would be heading into the tavern, and so Kreshan would follow.

He was quite out of place in Myrken, taller than most, barrel chested and dressed with far more fur and leather than the more civilized folks here would indulge in. He looked completely disheveled, long black hair braided down his back and a full bushy beard crowding most of his face. A pack over once shoulder and the blade of a large ax seem to be the most prominant things he carries.

He would stroll in as non-chalantly as a man of his size could do, walking around the entire tavern so he'd have reason to cross the stairs, hearing the messenger talking briefly to the woman whom the letter was delivered to. He smiles to himself, that woman upstairs would be the key to his wealth. All he had to do now was wait.

Sawyer's voice etched in his mind, he would head to the bar and make arrangements for taking up a room.