Ermin Mallory

10

You know other couriers who slip messages into recipients' pockets, snatch the coin from their hands, and disappear again just as swiftly, like phantoms darting around the city. You're no phantom. You make a godsawful lot of noise running around everywhere.

You deliver five or six messages, making just enough to scrape by for another few days. As night falls, the circling ravens begin to clear from the sky. You head for home, counting your spoils for the day.

As you come out of an alley, someone bolts around the corner and slams into you.

Whoa!