WhiteRaven

Thomas white tail tip twitched back and forth as he waited for the mail to leave the ship.  He could hear the sounds of the dock workers as they ran to a fro catching ropes and tying them to the dock. Stacks of wooden crates of all sizes lined the dock ready to board the boat when it was emptied.  He had snuck down to Sanquine Cove hopefully without being seen.  He had been practicing after all.  The loud thunk of the gangplank was music to his black ears. ...