“Izzy,” Myth called out to me early the next morning. “You have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” I said as I finished lacing up my boots.
Clambering out of my lean-to, I glanced towards the fire. There stood the very courier we had met earlier. He was still dressed in naught but his undergarments and a cowl.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” I told him.
Riffling through my knapsack, I pulled out my coin purse and another letter I had written to Auntie Julie. Then I joined Myth and the courier by the fire.
“Good morning, Sir,” I said to the courier.
“Didn’t take me so long to find you this time—joy of joys,” grumbled the courier.
“Have some coffee,” said Myth, handing a cup to him.
“Appreciate it,” replied the courier.
“Brrr,” I uttered, warming my hands over the fire. “It’s too cold for you to be dressed like that,” I said to the courier. “Your tummy must be so chilly.”
The courier paused just as he was about to sip his coffee. He stared at me. “Tummy? Seriously, how old are you? Must have the noggin of a five year old, I reckon.”
Shaking his head, the courier sipped his coffee. “Anyway, I’ve another package for you from that Julie MacDonald woman. That’s just my luck, it being my turn to make a delivery when that package came in. Not like I’ve anything better to do than to track you half way across the world.”
As he grumbled on and on, the courier opened his satchel and pulled out my package.
“Here you are,” he said, handing the package to me. “To: Izzy MacDonald. Location: almost certainly the Holding Bramble. It’s not as vague as saying you were someplace else. A mercy, that was.”
“Thank you,” I said. Handing him some coins, I continued, “Here’s a tip. And I have another letter for Auntie Julie."
The courier sighed. “This is gonna be my life from now on, innit—trudging from Dusk to the middle of nowhere an’ then back to Dusk?”
Ignoring his grumbling, I gave him the letter and paid him for its delivery.
“Off I go then,” said the courier as he stowed the letter in his satchel. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said to Myth, handing her the cup. Then he marched away.
Before the courier passed out of sight, I heard him grumble, “I really hate my life.”