"[color=7bcdc8]Uh think she's 'at elf girl--[/color]" muttered Cedar. "[color=7bcdc8]Dont look like human talk on the letter there at da end-- Purdy writin though. Bettern mine nohow...[/color]"


He accepted the letter, then fumbled terribly trying to fold it up tiny enough to put into the impossibly small capsule on the bird's dainty foot.  He had to remove his glove, and use the filed down nub of his claws to do the delicate work, and they lacked any kind of grip.  After a comical display, he finally succeeded though, then headed back outside, leaving the pair of saddles on the floor, with the pommel down, and the trees facing outward.

He returned some time later with another pair of saddles, and no bird, repeating the process twice more, before seating himself near the sudden influx of leatherwork and equestrian equipment, before getting out his twine and knife, along with the leatherworking kit, and setting to work on fixing the straps, cleaning the leather, and general maintenance of the kit, while doing his best to ignore the zombie in the room.

And the stench.