The next few weeks were uneventful, until, one evening at home, Adira found in Elatria's backpack an envelope addressed to her, from Zardor. The handwriting was extremely neat, artistic even, but in an unconventional print somewhat resembling cursive.
"Goran, Elatria, come," cried Adira. "A letter from Zardor," she murmured, eyes narrowing skeptically as Goran approached.
"Yippee!" Elatria squealed, skipping over to Adira, grabbing the envelope out of her hand and ripping it open. She pulled the letter out of the envelope and read aloud: "Dear Elatria, how joyous it was reading your letters. I do not normally get letters from humans (or other beasts for that matter), nor do I typically care to receive letters, particularly from humans. Yes, most humans are beasts, nor do I choose my words without care. And many beasts possess such 'human' traits which most humans have lost (or never had). And the humans belittle the 'beasts,' saying they are only animals, and treating them cruelly, with painful, needless slaughter. In doing that, who is really acting the 'beast'? Such are the ironies of life, evils of the world, Elatria.
Do you believe these humans would kill even me if they could find me and catch me? And would it be a slow, horrible, torturous death? Perhaps some humans would desire to eat me. Tell me, would I taste best broiled, boiled or fried? Or maybe I would be most delicious in a stew? And my skin, oh, wouldn't that be precious, and so much more valuable than my life? How much do you think a dragon-skin coat would cost? And what exotic shoes I might bestow from my corpse upon the goodly humankind. You know, the people may be kind and generous and show mercy, though: After removing my skin they might graciously permit me to live and be free on my own. Now I'm being sarcastic, Elatria, for I've heard of people committing those kinds of horrors and atrocities, yet I must be able to laugh and continue to enjoy life. Always remember to laugh, Elatria, and remember that there's good in the world, although it may sometimes be hard to find or to see. And don't let the malevolent spirits slip, unseen, through shadows beside you.
And so it is a profound joy for me to be contacted by an innocent, gentle, sweet human such as yourself; like an oasis in the dessert my heart thirsts for, or a haven of pure blue in a sky otherwise cloudy, gray and bleak, with no hope for the sun. Watch for those blue skies, Elatria, for they are there to see if you can spot them. As you are able to, let your senses linger when beauty and goodness present themselves; for it's easy to let life's ugliness fester in your mind like sores, becoming even your own wounds. We can't ignore the challenges facing us, those unrequested and undeserved obstacles; nor can we let them consume us. There is a time for all things, especially the benign, joyful, inspirational. A balance must be found. Elatria, make sure you enjoy magic and poetry, nature, woods, and beaches, sunrises and sunsets, family and friends.
Friends. And so I think of you and wonder while my flight takes me just over a towering stand of trees. I'm close enough to see the different patterns and colors upon the leaves. The beating of my wings sweeps cool air over me, refreshing me. And I watch the vast land with forest and rivers beneath me. I wish that I could continue my flight towards you, to meet you, but such a thing I can't do now. It is unfortunate that we must communicate from afar, that I can only try to touch your soul from a distance; but I would fear for my life if I were to visit you in New York. My majesty would not be respected and upon sight of me they would seek to destroy me. After all, New York, Elatria, is 'civilization'; that ironic word acting in mockery. So I must remain hidden in my own world.
The postman can find my whereabouts and he is discrete. He's one of the only ones you could possibly me