Shortly after retiring for the evening a carrier pigeon alights Wyk’s windowsill and pecks quietly. From the bird Wyk recovers it’s cargo, a letter.
It is always good to hear from you, old friend. In your last letter you asked for my advice concerning the steeples of sunset, I give it to you. I do not know why their shadow now passes over you but the darkness is deep and dangerous. Devoted, you will be sought out. Committed, the night is long. Resourceful, you cannot hide. I urge you to employ an offense of information and a defense of friendship. From the contents of your writing I surmise you have acquired the latter, perhaps the only reason you could afford to have written me. Seek out the former! You are impulsive and overzealous. Did I not demonstrate these failures to you in your lessons? Yet still you fail yourself. Patience, my friend. You are in the steeple’s shadow and the windows are filled with eyes. Seek out knowledge. I do not need to caution you to investigate discretely, however. Remember what I have taught you, heed my wisdom.
Upon reading it’s contents Wyk neatly folds, then swallows it.