A narrative found at a roadside
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It sounded like an echo, bouncing off the trees. I pinned my lank hair back from my ears so that I could hear it more clearly, should it sound a third time. I was bleeding from several wounds. The bandages were mottled dark umber, and in places, cinnabar bled through. To lend me strength and hope, I once again read the knot message I had found on the corpse of the message falcon: 'On the first call you will awaken. On the second, prepare to run. The third call will show direction. At the fourth, your journey's done'. Now the sound came again, and as the message had foretold, I could indeed pinpoint the direction of the sound. I ran and I ran... Until finally, I reached an opening amongst the trees. There sat a shepherd on a blanket, surrounded by a flock of wolves. Food and drink were set up as if for a feast. The shepherd smiled. But it was not a human smile. It was not a human shepherd. The shepherd-like figure offered me a hunting horn swinging from a chain. I took the horn with shaking hands. And surrendering the very last ounce of my strength, I raised the horn to my lips. And I blew.