The parchment was old and tattered, the former script faded and washed off, the new writing in ugly shaky lines of rusty black ink, so unlike the faint elegance beneath it. It was rolled up tight, tied with twine and sealed with candle wax. Across the outside was scrawled simply: To Crow in Bree.
Dere Crow,
I am still alive and have maid my way North. With your gift of gold and the mare I kept made the jur jer trip much easier. Sword helped me to! still a very long way and alone I did what you said and prakticed r writing and reading.
I am in Dale for now. But I am going to Laketown soon. That is wea were the real coin is. I do not have a plan but I will not kill or steal. If I can help it. I want a new start like we tawked about. I miss our tawks and your wine. Even drinking with the dead (a crude smiling skull is sketched beside the sentence)
I hope this finds you in good health if it finds you at all.
Your friend, Annaliesa
