♞ one child a week...

[sidherioghnach]

[The following message is only audible to children. It does not come from over the communicators, but rather seems to swirl all around them, a kindly, enchanting voice.]

Are you lost, my ducklings, my dears?
Are you frightened, are you in tears?
Come to my bower, my darlings, my loves,
Come to the forest, my sweet turtle-doves.

Comments

[Action]

[proff_treacle]

I am rather lost... [mini Gilbert says to himself almost absently, slipping from Yeta's sight out into the village. It's to the forest for him]

[Action]

[sidherioghnach]

[Black Annis croons at him, the forest lighting up, flaring brightly along the path she wants him to take.]

Are you cold, my duckling?

[Action]

[proff_treacle]

Yes madam, I am very cold indeed. [The young scintillian admits, following the light because light is blessed to his race, sacred, and no evil can come of it.] M-my name is Gil treacle, I'm from Lamsense but... It's not here any more.

[Action]

[sidherioghnach]

[The lights lead him to a little cave, decked out with fur blankets and opening out to a camp. A kindly old woman, her hair black as pitch and bound back from her face, sits at a fire, something that smells warm and delicious bubbling over it. She gives little Gilbert a smile.]

Oh, my dear, come over here at once! Wrap yourself up and sit down.

[tapferkeit]

I'm not lost!

[kiss_1000_frogs]

[Ooh, this must be some kind of fairy talking to her! To lead her to a prince!] What's a bower?

[sidherioghnach]

It's my home, my poppet.

[kiss_1000_frogs]

Is it easy to find? Does it look like a castle?

[sidherioghnach]

[She chuckles, a warm, inviting sound.]

I'll let you be the judge of that, my dear.

You'll find it easy enough, if you come to the forest...