Sister Snowdrop watched Friar Bibble filling a tray with breakfast foods for herself and Old Quelt. “A touch more honey on the Recorder’s oatmeal, if you please, Friar. He likes a lot of honey—oh, and some of those whortleberries, too, thank you.” Bibble obliged her. “There y’are, Sister. Oh, did ye hear? Tiria’s gone. An’ that Pandion bird, thanks be to goodness!” The aged Sister looked over her glasses. “Gone, Friar? Where to, what do you mean?” Bibble filled two beakers with coltsfoot and dandelion cordial. “Indeed to goodness, I thought you knew. She’s off on that journey of hers. I filled haversacks for them—her da, Brink and Tiria. They left before sunup.” Snowdrop appeared bemused by the news. “But she can’t do that! We haven’t gathered all the information she needs yet.” Friar Bibble wiped his paws and took a parchment from his apron pocket. “Well, I don’t know about that, Sister, but gone she has. Said I was to give this to you.” The little Sister tucked the parchment into her habit sleeve.
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