there are many paths to tread
He was expecting an owl.
So it did not surprise him when he heard the papery flutter of wings outside his window, or when a beak tapped a rhythm upon the glass. What did surprise him, however, was his visitor’s inky black appearance, and the silver ribbon with which its letter was tied.
Toulouse pushed the window open, taking a moment to appreciate the cool bite hovering in the air outside. Winter was near - or at least, a thing as close to winter as the desert could get. He missed the coolness of fall, the vibrant colors of leaves changing colors and decorating the the forest floor. Simple things, things he had never truly appreciated before his relocation to Solterra.
“Where did you come from?” he crooned, leaning forward to untie the delicate ribbon from the crow’s leg. It fell like silk in his grasp, fluttering to the windowsill. He took a moment to appreciate the emblem pressed into the wax, before breaking the seal an unrolling the parchment. Candlelight dances across the words on the page as he lifts it to read.
His eyes widened ever so slightly. This was certainly not the letter he was expecting.
But by the time he reached the end, a smile as subtle and slight as the crescent moon outside had begun to creep across his face. Collecting the ribbon and the fallen feather from the windowsill, Toulouse pulled the window shut.
The instructions are still echoing in his mind as he carries the letter to the wavering candle, watching as the flame consumes it bit by bit.
Challenge accepted.
