She swirled her finger around the parchment slowly, creating arcs of thin black liquid which contrasted harshly against the creamy color of the letter. She would not send it. Would there be a reason to send it? The designs covered every other word, at any rate, and therefore rendered the delivery of it a waste of any owl's time. She dipped her finger in the ink pot again and began drawing more squiggles. After repeating this process twice more, she eventually found this insipid and, with a sigh, stood up and left the wet letter by her bed.