The Courier

Black clouds lace the horizon. Growing closer, we see they circle an ancient volcano. Dormant on our maps, it has clearly now awakened, its jagged summit choked with smoke.

As we stare incredulously at the black clouds above, the clop of hooves disturbs us. Galloping along a non-existent road comes a small, well-made mail coach. Drawing the horses to a halt, the driver eyes us, her eyes black fires beneath the brim of her hat. “Hail, travellers. I come to deliver a letter of condolence to the sick woman who lives on this mount. The last of her sons has perished in the war. I am loath to deliver such terrible news, for it will destroy her even as she lies upon her deathbed. Yet my oath as a mailman prevents me from leaving my missive undelivered.”

As the horses toss their heads, the driver gazes mournfully up the slope. “Should I deliver my missive, and ruin this woman’s final hours? Or wait for her to pass on in peace?”