I have been three days by the edge of the sea and have yet to find a winged creature who will fly me to the other side. Wretched flibbertigibbets! It’s not only their wings that have feathers. I’m convinced their heads are stuffed with ’em, too.
If only I could say, “Ah, weel. As none will take me across, I must stay here instead.” Alas, that I cannot do. With each day that passes, an ache grows within me, as if some foul worm were a’gnawin’ at my guts. I know it is nae a worm, of course. It’s the queen’s curse eatin’ at me. Yearn as I might to stay in Scotland, I must cross the water and find my way to my new charge.