The old warrior looks up from the ancient text he was scribbling in as the pigeon lands softly on his sill. He carefully closes the old leather tome as he rises from his desk to greet his messenger. Handing the bird some crumbs, he gently extracts the rolled parchment from its canister.
Reading the carefully scripted parchment, a look of profound sadness crosses his grizzled features. After a moment, he folds the note and tucks it safely away in his belt.
He looks out his window at the endless see of starlight that surrounds his Malas home. A smile passes across his lips.
He pulls his dagger from its sheath and gently cuts the palm of his hand. Squeezing his fingers closed over the fresh wound, he clasps his fist to his chest, a warriors salute.
"Until our paths cross once more" he whispers.
He returns to the leather bound book and opens it to the back page.. He lifts the quill from the desk and gently writes.
Lora DeBlood - May 4th Year of the Gods 2004. May your spirit watch over us and guide us
He puts the quill down and looks at the long list of names that grace the page. He gently sprinkles some sand on the newest entry.
"Though the body dies, the soul remains eternal" he says to the empty room.
Smiling to himself, he closes the book and heads off to bed.