Neverwinter Forest Weeping willow

This new aunt asked for him to speak to Ariadne.

Pan’s head tilted to the side, curious and drawn to the shimmering shapes of the two wolves on the water. They looked happy out there. He couldn’t quite fathom how they floated on the surface without sinking down into the dark. The white man was large, especially compared to aunty Ari.

Aunty Ari are you okay? Pan called out in question, waiting for her to draw nearer, away from the dark depths of the lake water and to the shore where her family was. Ariadne did not approach, though.

Wind whisked through the trees and ruffled the hairs of his ears.

We are sleeping, little spirit-talker. It was not Ariadne that spoke, but the large white man.

The white man says they are sleeping. Pan’s face became stoic, serious. He called me spirit-talker.