K,
I can’t keep bringing you the goods. Last time, I barely got away from a pack of hungry hounds ready to tear the sacks apart. And then I’d have shared their fate, no doubt. The merchandise has become too smelly to keep it safe in transport, if you know what I mean. Their noses pick up the scent. It’s like they know what they’re after and are waiting for me. The dummy transports aren’t doing the trick anymore, either.
You’ll have to make do without me. I’m sorry.
V.
