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[Soren]

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Taking the rose from Lady Ariana between her thumb and her forefinger, Soren walked to a set of crates in the back of the camp. Opening one of the larger ones, she reached in and pulled out a piece of parchment. From Stormy's pack she withdrew a quill. She would have to talk to Zoe about getting more of those actually as she went through them like water. Making a mental note she sat down and started.

“My Adrian, My Husband,

You haven't been gone two hours and I am already writing you. That must be a record. I wish I could say it was to tell you that I love you. Well... I do love you, but that isn't why I'm writing. And it's not because I want to tell you about my day. Although my day is going good! I have a specific reason!

Well... I guess to say I love you and to tell you about my day are reasons to write a letter. But they aren't my reasons right now. Maybe the next letter will be or the one after. Just not this one. I am writing to tell you about one of our wedding gifts.

Her Grace, Lady Ariana Lenoir gave us many things. One of which is a deep deep red rose. This wouldn't be strange except that the rose looks the same as the day we got it. It has dew on it like it has been alive the whole time. It's beautiful. It doesn't smell like dying flowers do. It still has it's scent of fresh rose.

The thorns on it, the morning after, you know when Pidgy kept pecking you? I clipped those thorns because they pricked me. And they are back now. Just as if I hadn't touched it. Adrian, this rose is very much alive.

I am going to send word to Lady Ariana about it.

Love forever and a day in the fires of the forge,

Your wife,

Soren Bishop”


Quickly Soren tied up the parchment with a loose bit of pale blue ribbon from one of the packages and attached it to Stormy. “ I know you are tired girl.” Stormy confirmed that with a series and aggravated clicks and clacks. “ I really need you to do this.” A second series of aggravated chirps and squeaks answered but the beetle did as she was told and waddled away in search of Soren's husband.

[Adrian Bishop]

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Adrian blinked twice and started over reading the letter – for the third time. He loved his wife dearly, but she could talk herself in circles faster than anyone he’d ever met.

As he finally made it past the reasons that Soren was not writing him, his brow began to furrow with the reasons why she was writing. That rose was trouble. That woman was trouble. He had felt it in his bones. She was too cozy with the not-quite-living. She was too cool, too even, and she wore her benevolent demeanour like a harlequin’s mask. No, this woman was no good, and he was sure of it. But Soren seemed to think the world of Ariana. Until now, he had held his tongue, had tried to squelch the voices inside him that cried out that she was one of THEM – one of the unnatural. He turned over the letter from Soren and began, frantically, to write.

Dearest Sparrow,

That rose is trouble! Kill it! Smother it! Burn it!! She’s one of THEM! She will suck your soul out through your nose. I have foreseen it! Don’t keep that wretched, cursed prick of a creature in the camp for a moment longer! If you value your life – if you value your soul – step on it, grind it into the dust, douse it with lamp oil and BURN THE UNRULY BASTARD to ashes—

Adrian became quite aware of the beads of sweat popping out on his forehead and paused to wipe it with the back of his sleeve. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his heart and control his near hyperventilation. Once the dizziness had subsided and his breath was somewhat even, he looked at the hen-scratched note he had scrawled and wadded it up. tossing it on the ground before setting fire to it with his torch. The not-quite-living won’t get the better of you, Adrian. You’re a smarter man than that.

He took out a small scrap of wrapping paper from the bottom of his pack and wrote a quick note.

Sparrow,

Don’t touch it too much, and don’t pick at it. Do not provoke, poke, taunt, curse, rub, or otherwise molest the rose until I come and see it for myself. I will follow swiftly behind Stormy. Be well. I love you.

Adrian

Quickly, he attached it to Stormy’s antenna, picked a daisy, and rested it in the crease between her wings. Then he sent her on her merry way and turned his packhorse back toward home.