Letters from friends, Spring 1148

To Lilly:
I killed a snake and I bet you never even saw one. I hoisted a big rock into a tree and my mentor laid out a mouse made of straw as bait and at the right moment I threw down the rock right on the snake’s head. It was a huge snake, way bigger than you could imagine. No wonder you got stuck carrying around a stink jug instead of anything cool. I have a new name now, don’t forget it.
-Spicket the Greatest

I told your mentor that you remind me of myself at your age, and I think you deserve to hear that too. The sea calls me. It always has, since I was younger than you. I see the same call in you: the call of adventure. It makes you want to be anywhere but home. The thing is, the sea is full of adventure herself. We could follow our hearts and make a stack of coin as we go. Your work is already holding the ship together. Join my crew and she’ll be yours when I retire. Just think about it. Be honest with the both of us.
-Captain Thom of the Tortola

Dear Sable,
Weaving is well. It’s a cycle. The shuttle goes back and forth in my room. The tide goes in and out from the shore. The seasons chase each other through the whole world. Sometimes, I think back to what I would be doing with the Guard were I still active; it’s own cycle. Last I heard you had just met your new tenderpaw. I should like to meet her. Maybe I can convince her to take it easy on you. Maybe I can also tell her the other side to the stories you’ve surely shared. Speaking with you and your loved ones is its own reward.

Our F,
Some friends of yours were in town like they always are this time of year. Neither patrol stopped by. Your ma wonders if she’s been forgotten, even if she doesn’t say so. I just tell her it’s a bunch of kids from after her time who are in a heck of a hurry. It helps that I’m right. But we heard the news! Word travels faster than you might think when it’s about shucking three crabs in one blow and teaching their language to your charge. Word may not travel accurately, but it sure is fast. We’re much faster to say it’s our daughter people are talking about than we are to ask questions.
Love, Your Mothers

Dearest Marx,
Port Sumac is home to the sky and sea, and I have many miles of land rolled up on my shelves, but it all feels so small now. How does the road from Barkstone measure against another day with you? My mind has replaced lines of latitute with the lines of your whiskers; the contours of rivers with those of your paws. Every night I look out my window and think of the words we shared about the stars, knowing they look down on us both.
Eternally yours, Kearra

My Zeke,
The journey was tough, and I’m not sure it was worth it. There are a few prospective settlers in Shorestone from the old neighborhood but less than I hoped. Not that they’d be advertising it, but there’s a look in the eye they don’t have. I guess these mice remind me of you less than I’d hoped. Sorry for missing you. The schedule was tight. I left specific instructions with Victor to humor Lily so you let me know if he didn’t. It hurts to think I had an opportunity to see you again and missed it, especially for this. The fewer old faces I see the more I’m inclined to see where you’re coming from.

Forgive my melancholy. I’m not myself after a long trip. My greatest hope is to speak again soon. Barring that, I hope the bedspread you used still has your faint smell.
When you’re ready, Christophe

I shared what we talked about with some of our other friends and they thought it was interesting. Have you made friends with any other Guard? Are the neigbors well? Please take care of yourself; it’s dangerous out there. Write when you can.


Lonely little petunia


An onion patch