Not In Rivers, But In Drops

We arrived in Revelstoke Wednesday afternoon, and in spite of everything we'd heard about this being a ski resort, the locals were exceptionally chilly to visitors coming in. Shopkeepers muttering under their breaths to one another out of the corner of our eyes, furtive whispers that we never quite caught the words of. Maybe it's just the twitchy one-armed kid in their store. Or maybe this Buggy character isn't keeping quite such a low profile and they know his kinds of associates when they see them.

There's a certain look to runners that you get used to. Wiry, fidgety. Always surveying their surroundings. Grubby, yet with a certain dynamicism to them that betrays the fact that they're too well-fed or well-energised to be homeless. Great big exhausted bags under their eyes, and a weary blank affect. This lifestyle really takes a toll.

You could spot us a mile off.

Apparently it's hay fever season and Kari feels like crap. She's been depending on us much more ever since she started sneezing. I heard she had a lot of health problems by my god this girl falls apart at the first sniff of pollen. Bizarrely, I swear she must have been stockpiling antihistamines because I have no idea where they're coming from. But Natalie's been looking after her. I guess she's used to playing the nurse, thanks to me. I guess it's a shame for her all the healthy runners died.

We're booked into a hotel until we've found Buggy. Kari says she'll try and track him down when she's better, though this is hay fever, so that could mean anything from sufficient levels of antihistamine in the bloodstream to a heavy period of rain to the end of pollination. I guess there won't be much news until then.