It's a fresh autumn afternoon and Merlin is taking a break from his winter preparations. He's found a hollow piece of wood, and he's played with it, crafted it into a rudimentary flute. He's sitting on a tree stub out in a clearing and playing it slowly, experimenting. It's sometimes good, sometimes terrible, sometimes soulful, sometimes playful.
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"Hallo there," Merlin calls. "Jolly good day, is it?"
He doesn't seem perturbed by the fact that he's making conversation with a living stuffed toy.
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Be careful what you wish for, Eeyore...
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