The melancholic tune of Dagwood’s flute danced through the darkness of the early night. The sun had set fast and left me in a strange mood. Maybe it was the company, maybe it was the forest. Who was to say?
“That’s a nice melody,” I said, trying to make conversation. “I don’t recognise it.”
“It is song of Elves.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Dagwood blew into the hand-carved flute and put it back in his breast pocket. “It is a warning. Do not go into woods alone.”
“Then how did you get lost?” I asked, watching how the tongues of fire cast strange shadows on Dagwood’s face. In the dark, he looked menacing and dangerous. Like someone that could snap my spine in half with one hand.
“I— I have sister. She is only small and stupid. She walk into forest. I look for her, but no sister.” He rummaged th
