Nearly middle-aged woman sat on the dry autumnal ground in the yard of a small cottage. She was wearing a loose, dark robe and her plentiful brown flocks of hair flowed down to the grass – the crimson and yellow leaves sticked to them.
A bit further away, among the trees was a young boy. He was curiously following the ants, trying to learn everything about those little creatures of nature.
The woman gazed toward the boy, smiling warmly at his back. Then she lowered her eyes to a piece of parchment that she was holding along with a spotted quill.
The yard was tranquil and wild. The tiny cottage was hidden under several layers of vegetation. Its roof was covered by moss and saplings. There were huge herbal and berry-carrying bushes all around the cottage and where one could see some bare wall, the creeping vines covered that poor, naked spot. In the end, the cottage looked like a randomly placed lush hill surrounded by a very small treeless front garden and then, by the forest. The air had strong herbal scents on it.
This place was far, far from where Tucona's parents had lovingly raised her. She felt the nostalgia quickening inside her but she knew there was no going back now.
And she picked the quill and wrote.
”My dearest Seraile,
I hope that you are healthy, safe and carrying joy in your heart.
It has been a long time since I last got to see your face which I miss so much. I have so much to ask and so much to tell, but I must capsulaze it.
I never left out of my own volition. I was kidnapped. The enemy wanted to use my knowledge for their benefit. But I do not wish to go into the dark details of this depraved issue. Acrimony is poison for the heart.
Fortunately, sisters saved me. I am eternally thankful for them. They have taught me so much. So many things that I didn't know, things that can be used for the benefit of many. I am needed here, so I can't leave. Also, the way is way too dangerous to travel for the most.
You have a son. He has got your eyes. When I look at him, I can see a glimpse of you. He will grow up into a fine man. This is a good place for raising him.
Lastly, I offer my deepest apology for not writing to you earlier. I am far, far away and it seemed almost impossible to find a messenger. Please reward him well. Check above the fireplace on my bedroom. There's a pot where I used to hold some gold coins.
Please be happy and abandon any worry that you might carry because of me.
I will love you eternally, but even greater is my love for my son and all the people who need my help.
~ Tucona”
And she smiled in a wistful way, looking at the cloudy sky she made a wish. Then she took an oblong vial of light green liquid, and a a shoot of lavender, and rolled the parchment around them. She sealed the letter twice: first with a kiss and secondly with a seal. Then she raised, brushed her robe, shook most of the leaves from her hair and smiled faintly at the sinewy young man. As she handed him the scroll, she said:
”Look for Seraile Shadowstalker from Bree. Be careful about who you ask about him. Don't ask for him directly unless you must. Listen to the rumours, follow the shadows, until you're certain. Keep my description of him firmly on your mind.”
As she looked after the leaving man, the pain of longing and the small feelings of guilty stinged her heart so hard that the tears flooded from her eyes. She flipped around, walking to the opposite side of the forest than where the child is playing.
