11

Never being one to pass up the prospect of good treasure, Toadapple swished around the mud at her feet and out from the water she pulled a small turquoise glass bottle with the top corked up tight. She rinsed the wet muck from the smooth sides and spied a crisp rolled up paper within. Sometimes the floating mail system from Pebble Sound to Small Thicket’s Fallen Tree Harbor goes awry but this old pond isn’t connected to the creek at all. The bottle was old but the note inside looked fresh, as if just written. The fae looked around the pond expecting someone to be sitting in the reeds awaiting an answer but spied nothing. Curiosity snapped the thread in her mind and she yanked out the wet stuck cork and began to read the unfurled letter.