“I'll get you something to drink. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
Sarah went inside and returned with a tray that lit the man's eyes up like fire. She offered him her chair but he refused and sat down on the grass, tearing open the bread like it was his first meal in months. Alan passed her the letter and she read the strange script, confused by some of the shapes the letters had been formed into.
Bear,
I hope my little messenger finds you in good health - but how could he not? I hope you remember little Ivor, the boy you showed how to hunt and fish in those pathetic parks you call 'forests' in your land. My father, Bogdan, has long since gone to his fathers but has left behind a strong family to carry on our little community.
But now we need your help once again. Does the name Frederick Santiago mean anything to you? I ask because the little shit has taken refuge on an island not far from my home and has decided to declare war on us. He fights like a coward, avoiding open conflict but he takes my people and our livestock for his own. You wonder why Ivor cannot deal with it himself? Ah, I will tell you. He has something of yours and I suspect that you might want it back. Remember your magic stick? Bogdan did until his dying day. Perhaps you would like to take it back?
Ivor.
“Magic stick?” she asked, handing him back the note.
“It's a long story.”
The messenger had finished eating and was trying to drain the jug of water in one go, pouring most of it down his front. When he'd finished, he laid back on the ground and closed his eyes.
“Is he dead?” asked Alan.
“Maybe,” she replied. “I'll saddle the horses just in case he isn't.”
Beyond Hope (Tales from the Brink Book 3) Page 28
