The mail slot moved.
Mohg stopped walking.
It was part of the door, but it behaved like it was not finished deciding what it was. It opened briefly. It closed again. It made a small sound, as if clearing its throat.
Mohg sat down.
This felt polite.
Pebble arrived at speed.
She skidded to a stop beside him and stared at the door. Doors were not supposed to do that. Pebble barked once, sharply, to notify everyone involved.
The mail slot did not apologize.
It opened again.
A thin piece of paper slid out and dropped onto the floor, exhausted.
Pebble barked louder.
Mohg leaned forward and sniffed the paper. It smelled like hands, weather, and effort. It smelled like something that had traveled a long way and was done traveling for now.
Mohg looked back up at the slot.
The slot closed.
Mohg waited.
Nothing else happened.
Mohg considered this.
Perhaps the slot was shy.
Perhaps it could only release one thing at a time. Perhaps it required quiet. Mohg lay down nearby, close enough to be reassuring but far enough not to crowd it.
Pebble stared at him.
The slot did not open again.
Over the next few days, Mohg adjusted his routine.
Whenever the slot made its small sound, Mohg went to sit by the door. He did not bark. He did not scratch. He waited calmly, so the slot would not feel rushed.
Each time, a paper appeared.
Pebble objected to this arrangement loudly.
She barked at the slot for behaving strangely. She barked at the papers for arriving uninvited. She barked at Mohg for encouraging this.
Mohg remained patient.
One afternoon, the slot opened while Mohg was already there.
A paper slid out.
Mohg lowered his head and rested his chin on the floor beside it.
The slot closed.
Nothing else happened.
The paper rested.
Later, the humans picked it up and carried it away.
The slot did not react so Mohg assumed this was acceptable. He stayed by the slots side, just in case it needed anything else.
