I was halfway to the
door before I realised that Oak had followed me. He positioned
himself out of sight from whoever would be beyond and watched me
closely. The knock came again, louder, more insistent.
“Alright,” I
shouted, “I'm coming.”
Opening the door I
found myself looking at a teenage boy. I say boy, but I really mean
urchin – he could've stepped straight from the pages of a Charles
Dickens novel, right down to the soot.
“Yes?” I smiled at
him.
“We would speak with
Oak,” the boy replied in a voice so deep it was more felt than
heard.
“I'm sorry...” I
started without thinking, but Oak cut past me.
“That's fine Edward,”
he said, “I shall take it from here.”
