As the light in the room grew brighter, racing into the cracks and crevices of the lamps and statues and wall carvings filled with oil, Skyhammer discerned a myriad of loops, dots and slashes covering the front of both outstretched wings. The writing was a rust red shade.
He sheathed his sword. "Goblins, eh?" He moved closer, close enough to see the wings trembling. Goblins wrote right to left so he started with the right wing.
I am contacting you at great risk to myself and my research. You know me as Two Mandarins and a Carrot.
I have heard of a relic deep in the Goblin desert. This relic poses a threat to the Goblin race.
I am telling you about it first so that you may claim it for the Humans. It will not harm Humans.
Hurry, Blue Metal, before the others hear about it. Time is running out.
Please do not harm my messenger. She is friend to Goblins and Humans alike.'
The left wing had directions to the location of the relic.
Skyhammer stepped back and considered the butterfly. "Lucky for you, I trust that Goblin." He bowed. "Thank you for the message."
The words began to fall from the butterfly's wings as it inclined its head. Two lines of red sand piled up next to the chair.
Window unlatched and opened, Skyhammer stood back and watched the butterfly blend in with the dark night outside.
Could this be it?