After some internal debate it is decided to take the coin directly. It has a significant weight to it, a lot heavier than modern currency. It was a little worn and beat up, but it felt special in her hands.
“What would you like me to sing?” Krasavits bubbled.
“Please sing tomorrow,” The figure removed an old fountain pen and a small slip of paper, “You must find this song.”
“I’m sorry, I really don’t understand. You want me to sing a song--tomorrow, but a specific song I need to find for you?”
“I believe in you. You will know when.”
There is a long pause, Krasavits has never been asked to do such a strange specific request before.
“You must trust me.” The raspy voice figure sounded rather desperate and forlorn.