Oliver hadn't realised that his breathing had been anything but uneven or erratic until the now-familiar bird sailed back through his open window.
"Thank you," he said softly, fervently, as he ran his hand over the owl's head and back. He hadn't been this grateful to an owl since Puddlemere had sent his offer letter.
He finally exhaled when he read the short note, a note that would join the other letter, still open on his desk from his constant re-readings. Something he'd keep for years to come.
Faelan,
I'm already looking forward to it and there's nothing that would keep me away.