snail mail.
A pair of small, browned and calloused hands hastily reached into Belle's satchel to pull out a small, white envelope. Belle craned her neck to get a better look at what Marisol had dug out. At the bottom right corner, there were tiny neat letters written in graphite. Belle squinted. She didn't know how to read, just knew a couple words here and there and, of course, numbers. 'STREET'. 'AVENUE'. 'ROAD'. 'CRESCENT'. Those were the important words she needed for her job.
The girl, Marisol, slid her finger under the flap of the envelope, expertly moving it along the edge, resulting in a clean cut. Belle had watched this countless times. She waited patiently.
Marisol unfolded the piece of paper inside and began to read. “Dear Mar.”
Her clear bright eyes scanned the paper. What Belle liked about Marisol was that she read her letters out loud. She didn't have much of an imagination and didn't really know what to do with herself when her clients would silently read.
Marisol paced around in circles. The floorboards groaned with every step she took. Only a single small candle lit sitting on a plain wooden desk lit the room up with a dull orange glow. It smelled faintly of cinnamon.
"They are in the North." She paused. Belle could see Marisol's lower jaw slide from side to side. With a sigh, Marisol continued. "They’re jetting us to Deline. Write with haste, action may happen sooner rather than later and I need your words of encouragement. Love, J."
The girl held the letter and looked up at the ceiling. All that could be heard was the breathing of the two in the room. Belle cocked her head, studying Marisol. She tried to anticipate what Marisol would do next.
The girl walked over to the desk and slapped the letter down onto the wooden surface. She plopped down into the wooden chair and pulled out a couple of yellowed sheets of paper from the drawer. A small pencil was already lying on the desk, it was shaved down to a stub, the tip of the pencil dull. Pinching the pencil in between her forefinger and her thumb, Marisol began scribbling. This, Belle did not anticipate.
Thus, this was where Belle started to get impatient. She shifted her weight side to side and began to hum quietly to herself. Marisol looked up back at Belle.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. She pulled open the drawer and took out a clear plastic jar. She walked over to the window where Belle was perched. With her nimble hands, she screwed the jar open. Belle clattered her beak in excitement. "I'm sorry, I forgot your payment." Marisol said soothingly. She carefully shook some seeds from the jar in front of the stone pigeon. Belle immediately bent down and pecked at them. It was rare for Marisol to forget. This must be important, Belle thought to herself as she guzzled down the seeds.
Marisol and her jar walked back to the desk. Belle stared longingly as the jar went back into its drawer before going back to the seeds in front of her. She crunched down hard. The payment was a little stale but it was still packed with flavour. It would be a while until Marisol would get a fresh batch. Humans. They always overestimated the shelf life of things.
Belle watched Marisol scribble some more as she picked up some seeds with her beak and placed them into the satchel hanging around her neck. She would need to save some for the journey.
“Thank you for waiting,” Marisol whispered, approaching the bird again. She presented a small rolled up piece of paper and plopped it into Belle’s satchel. “Can you get this to Deline? It’s on The Great Bear Lake.”
Belle bobbed her head and chirped. She had heard of it but had never made the journey herself. It didn’t matter much, Marisol was her favourite client, of course she would get it to him. With that, she hopped off the ledge, the weight of the small but dense paper barely impeding her movement. She spread her wings and took off. She didn’t go far, as she had one more stop to make.
It was customary to check into The Inn and gossip with the other pigeons. It wasn’t useless gossip, usually there was good insight on wind patterns, weather, the movements of the Blue Men, and the constantly changing locations of key people. Belle had just arrived from the other side of British Columbia and the rocky terrain had hid any useful information she would have otherwise noticed. Still, she hoped that she could bargain with someone to tell her how to get to her new destination.
She flew down to the rooftop of the brothel. The chirps of pigeons usually did not bother the occupants of the building and they were rarely chased away. Some of the girls recognized the pigeons and even had used the pigeons themselves. It was a neutral zone, anyone of any stature was welcome. The pigeons liked to call it The Inn because it seemed a lot more welcoming than “Tatiana’s Broads and Board.”
“Heya,” a voice greeted her. The other bird Belle landed next to was Maximo, a rather plump pigeon with ragged white and brown feathers. He was Tatiana’s personal messenger and established The Inn himself. Maximo rarely delivered anything let alone fly--Tatiana liked to feed him just a tad too many scraps--and instead listened to the incoming and outgoing pigeons, absorbing as much information as he could so he could parrot them back to others.
“Hi Maximo,” Belle bobbed her head.
“How’s the Rockies?” Maximo grunted, his voice low and serious.
“Nothing of note,” Belle hopped from one foot to the other. “It was uneventful, sorry to say.”
“Hm,” Maximo grunted again. He turned his head to greet another pigeon that had just landed behind him. He looked back at Belle, his large eyes unblinking. “Where do you go next?”
“I’m off to The Great Bear. Any news from there?”
Maximo whistled through his beak. “That’s far. How are you going to move? My answer depends on yours.”
“I need the fastest route,” Belle said, remembering Marisol’s plea.
The older bird shook his head. “That’s risky. Not a lot of waypoints. You’d freeze. No, the journey would take 43 suns at the very least if you are careful.”
That would mean 86 suns to get back. Belle nearly lost her footing on the roof at the realization. She would need more seeds from Marisol if she wanted her letter expedited.
“You must go with a guide,” Maximo continued. “Not many of us go up North. There is one bird who makes the journey often. But not the fast way.”
Belle glowered. She liked to do things on her own. She didn’t need a guide. Reason calmed her a little. If Maximo was worried, it wasn’t something to just brush off. But still… Nothing was worse than having a travelling companion. For one, it was riskier. A single pigeon wouldn’t raise any bells and it was easier to stay out of sight. The Blue Men were experts at hunting down pigeons and intercepting messages and two pigeons would be too out of the ordinary for them to not investigate. Secondly, Belle enjoyed going at her own pace and being concerned with only herself. She didn’t like to babysit.
“Who would that be?” Belle barely opened her beak, trying to keep herself from squawking.
“He goes by the name of Sydney,” Maximo said, closing his eyes. The name did not sound familiar to Belle. “It has been many suns since he last checked into The Inn. He is coming back from The Great Bear. You must wait.”
Belle grumbled. She could just go ahead without waiting. She opened her beak to, unfortunately, squawk in protest.
“The Great Bear?” another pigeon chirped, butting their head in between the two birds. Belle clattered her beak in annoyance. She hated birds who loved to interrupt, which was many of them. “Word is that the pigeon who was coming from The Great Bear was intercepted.”
A chill ran through both Maximo and Belle. To be intercepted was the worst kind of fate. The Blue Men did not take any prisoners, nor did they indulge in catch and release. It was yet another incentive to finish the job and make it home alive.
“Looks like I will have no guide after all,” Belle said brightly, taking advantage of the sombre news.
The other pigeon shook his head. “He was with another bird. Not a pigeon though. They’re en route to The Inn as we speak. A resident bird from The Great Bear.”
There was silence. It was unheard of for pigeons to travel with non-pigeons. And as far as Maximo could remember, no birds other than pigeons have visited The Inn before.
“You should wait for their intel,” Maximo finally said. “The Blues aren’t known to be in the North.”
“It’ll be around seven suns for them to get here,” the white pigeon said.
Belle clacked her beak once, trying to restrain herself. “Maybe I can intercept them. They can tell me their intel and then they can keep going to The Inn to report back.”
Maximo sighed. “You are not budging. But since this is apparently an urgent matter, do what you want.”
Belle, relieved that she had Maximo’s blessing, not that she needed it, turned to the other pigeon. “Do you know if I can meet with the other bird at a waypoint?”
The pigeon cocked his head, calculating distances in his head. “I think we can intercept –”
Both Maximo and Belle cringed at the word.
“—him at Valhalla if we go fast. Or we can wait in Kelowna for around half a day.”
“Hold on just a second,” Belle interjected. She pointed a wing at the pigeon. “What do you mean we?”
“I’m heading to Purcell and that’s on the way,” the bird happily chirped. “I might as well tag along with you if we’re going in the same direction, right?”
Maximo nodded sagely. “That is logical for such a long journey.”
“I need to leave tonight,” Belle said icily. She could not reason herself out of this situation and admittedly, the thought of going to the North for the first time, alone, was a tad daunting. The news of a bird being intercepted also rattled her a little. She would need the intel. It seemed like she was stuck with a guide regardless. “Are you ready to go?”
The white pigeon bobbed his head enthusiastically. “I was going to wait until daybreak but I’m ready as ever.”
“I need to collect more payment,” Belle bristled. “I doubt my client would pay me more if I showed up alone. Let’s go.”
Before the pigeon could respond, Belle had jumped off the ledge and glided through the air. He hastily took flight after her.
“Um, I don’t know your name,” the pigeon yelled through the cutting air, trying to catch up to her. Belle pretended not to hear and continued to soar through the city, looking for Marisol’s room window. The other pigeon sighed and continued to follow her without a word.
Belle perched herself onto a window sill, the window closed shut. The white pigeon noted the building’s many windows, a small run down apartment, not unlike many of the other buildings in the city. He landed next to her and peeked inside the window. A girl with dark unruly hair, barely a woman, was tucked into bed. Belle started pecking at the window.
“Marisol!” she yelled in between pecks. The girl did not stir from her sleep. The white pigeon hit his beak against the glass as well. Belle glared at him but continued on with her ruckus. After a couple of minutes, Marisol rubbed her eyes. She sat up and saw the two birds.
Belle grimaced at the shock on Marisol’s face. The girl dashed towards the window and softly unlatched it, cracking it open. “You haven’t left yet, Belle?” she whispered sadly. The white pigeon chattered his beak. So her name was Belle.
Marisol turned to look at the other bird. “Who are you? A friend?”
“Please!” Belle scoffed, hopping up and down. as if Marisol could understand. “He’s just a coworker!”
“My name is Jack,” the male pigeon cooed. Whether Belle liked it or not, she would know his name and he would know hers.
“Oh I see,” Marisol lied, a soft smile on her face nevertheless. “So you need more seeds? I am making you go a long way aren’t I? Alright.” She disappeared into her dark room. Both pigeons tapped their feet excitedly at the thought of more seeds.
She came back with the jar and twisted it open. “How much do you need?” she mused, eyeing the little satchels around each pigeon's neck. She scooped out two handfuls and placed it on the sill. They would have to decide for themselves.
The birds immediately gobbled some seeds down, a proper amount, enough to last them a little more than one day’s journey but not too much as to slow them down. They each put more seeds into their cloth bags. Marisol rested her chin on her hand as she watched the two birds. There was a tension inside her, wanting the birds to shoo and fly as soon as they could. She had never sent Belle to the Yukon before and did not know how long it would take and if Belle would make it. The appearance of the other bird did ease her mind a bit.
Once the birds seemed to finish pecking at the seeds, Marisol straightened up. “Hurry back but only once it’s been delivered,” she smiled.
The birds nodded and then took off into the night sky. While in the air, Belle looked back at Marisol leaning out of her window, getting smaller as she flew further away.