Special Delivery - Nesrin vs. the Carrion Deathbird

[sneakyonfoota]

Clutching a leather-bound ledger to his chest, a youth just entering his teens put a hand to his brow to shield his eyes against the scorching sun beating down upon him. He scanned the wide, desolate plain before him and sighed. Where could she be? He heaved a great sigh and rustled the cloak hanging from his shoulders to fan the still, dry air against his body. He could feel his shirt clinging to his chest and his hair sticking in spikes against his temples. He uncorked a calabash and took a refreshing but brief sip of warm water--who knows when he'd find the client and be able to go back to the academy.

Why me? he asked himself, for the fiftieth time that day. He quickly turned, his eyes darting from rock to shrub to desiccated, barren tree, suddenly feeling self-conscious. It was the first time he'd ever been to the Amboseli Plains and he had no intention of returning... From the moment Nebula had dropped him off hours ago he had felt as though he was being watched from all directions by innumerable pairs of invisible eyes. When he 'suggested' that Mistress Nebula's teleportation may have been slightly off the mark, she spun it as a 'character building exercise' and left the task to him to persevere. Me and my big mouth, the boy grumbled inwardly.

He spun slowly on his heel, looking all around him. He hadn't the slightest idea which way to go, as each direction offered more of the same: dry, dusty ground; waist-high grass that stood stiff and sharp like needles; the odd dead baobab tree and looming buzzards overhead patiently waiting for him to fall over so they may peck at his bones.

He scratched his chest, the brooch keeping his school cloak fastened was beginning to chafe. As he did his fingers found the signal whistle he wore around his neck, given to him by Nebula prior to her desertion.

"Blow into it only after you have found the client," he was instructed. "Not before."

Would anyone be the wiser if he had just blown the whistle now and signed the for the client? He was sorely tempted to test this. Alas, Tobias Tobermory was not known for his defiance, let alone any backbone to speak of. He sighed and let his hand drop from the whistle.

Bollocks to this! he thought. Straightening his posture and thrusting his chest out as far as it would go, he took a deep breath, cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered out, "Delivery for Ms. Nesrin! Hello?"