They heard the whistle, low and soft above the sough of the wind. "I don"t recognise that bird," Melcorka said. "It is like the call of the Gregorach, except lighter."
"I do not recognise it, either." Bradan tapped his staff on the ground. "This is not an area I have been in before."
They entered a clearing where the grass underfoot was soft and verdant green, with long shadows from a sun invisible behind mauve clouds and a herd of deer grazing with no fear of their presence.
"They are tame enough to be pets," Melcorka said happily, as a hind trotted past to her stag.
"Too tame," Bradan said. "I have never seen the like before, although I have heard of it." He ducked his head. "Hurry through here, Melcorka. Something is wrong."
There was another low whistle, barely heard but clear ins
