Ch 1
The Expedition of Constable Crane
"Constable Crane, is it? Your coach is awaiting you, sir," the man said with a polite bow. He instantly arose from his position and led the passenger to the carriage that he spoke of.
There was an unusual chill in the air that night. People roamed the streets urgent to get to their homes as the shimmering moon lent a dreadful effect in the midnight sky. An utter yet distinct cry of a wolf could be heard in the distance which sent chills down Crane's spine, "Here we are now. Enjoy your trip," said the man tilting his hat off to the constable.
"Thank you," Crane responded triumphantly making his way into the carriage.
The carriage driver turned his head to Crane's seat, "Where's it to," questioned the driver.
"Head to the Western Airports. I must catch a flight to the Caribbean," Crane remarked proudly.
Constable Crane was a very proud man although he was a coward. In fact, Crane knew very little about himself and hardly noticed his cowardice. To others, however, his fear was an obvious characteristic. From fear of spiders to fear of thunder and even to frequent swooning people rolled their eyes from the slight mentioning that he was a constable. Poor, misunderstood Crane knew none of this and defined himself the manliest of men.
The man held onto the reigns of the horse, "To the West Airports it is, sir," confirmed the man, "And when must you arrive?"
"As soon as possible," Crane stated.
The man held the horse's reigns firmly in his hands, "Yah," he pulled. In that, Crane and the man rode onward through streets and deeper into darkness.
The horse galloped faster and faster. It rode through busy and lone streets and rode on bumps and potholes. Suddenly, the pace was disturbed by a sudden halt. Crane emerged from his rest in shock, "Are we here, sir," trembled Crane.
"Calm down," the man reassured, "My horse made a sudden stop. But I'll get her to budge, sir."
Crane's eyes emerged, "A sudden stop? What do you propose caused this," Crane asked. The constable tried to arrange his voice in a calm tone but he had failed. Instead, his voice was cheaply arranged in a high stuttering pitch.
The man rolled his eyes laughing to himself, "A squirrel perhaps," he guessed jumping from the coach. He walked to the front of his horse, careful not to startle it. He crept to its face laying his hand on its nose and gently petting it. In his opposite hand he fed the horse a bright orange carrot. Its merry neighs told the driver that the horse was soon to move again.
"As I had guessed, it was nothing to worry about, sir," said the driver returning to his carriage, "She stopped out of hunger. Now that she is fed she will do just fine."
"Ah," sighed Crane in relief, "Carry on then."