19
Higgs sat at his window and peered out across the open sky, his fingers drumming idly on the hot mug of coffee clasped in his hands. The morning was bright and clear, and the new sun was burning off the mist that clung to the tops of the trees far below him, just as the steam from his coffee tickled his nose as he sipped it.
He waited as he always did in the morning, keeping an eye out for birds in the sky. Petron hadn’t come for days now, although that wasn’t unusual. The last time he’d visited, in bird form of course, Higgs had tied a long list of items to his leg, and Petron the man was probably busy out there trying to fill his requests before he next passed this way. The next trade day, when the gates of Redmondis would open to the outside world for a day to restock and resupply,
