On the next fine, balmy morning of late-spring, when the air over the fields is damp and heavy with the promise of looming summer, a wiry scrap of a messenger-boy comes trotting out of the southerly gates of Snowbourn. He hastens through the dew-soaked grass of the outlying crofts, aiming towards Saexwyrd's cottage.
With a hasty bow and a "thank you, m'lord", the boy deposits a small object into the large and doubtlessly work-soiled hands of the hulking man who runs the humble farm. Before any queries may be spoken, the lad jogs away just as swiftly for his next errand.
It is a package, not much bigger than the aforementioned hand of Saexwyrd, wrapped in brown paper. The man's name is scrawled gracefully over the parchment. Upon untying the twine holding it closed, the paper unfolds to reveal two generously sized pastries, side by side. One may be slightly larger than its companion, suggesting the smaller portion could be intended for a certain child. A scent of strawberries can still be savored, though the tarts are no longer hot and fresh.
A small, folded bit of paper is included. "For you and Weda. Brynleigh."
