Satyr's song

"Fresh upon the morning satyr." He slowly spun around in a childlike fancy to see her sweet young face, lighting up with a wood nymph's magical glow.

"My dear Willow, you must stop sneaking up on me like that, I am old!" He told her mostly teasing.

"How old will you be this year good satyr?" Willow asked overtly curious.

"I surpassed a thousand years several seasons ago, child." The look of amazement on the young nymph's face made him laugh with pleasure.

Willow was a very young nymph, she was not even a full century yet, a child compared to him. It was her childlike innocence that he truly admired about young willow. He truly did not mind it when she popped in to see her ancient friend. Willow was an adorable young sprite, but much too curious for her own good. She had soft chestnut eyes and sparling blonde hair a shade or two darker than gold.

"Really, you're that ancient?" She asked with widened eyes, much like a surprised human child.

He let out a bellowing laugh and then went back to playing his flute while she listened with joy in her hears from his soft tone playing. It was her favorite time of the day, spending time with the great Satyr, one of her favorite friends in the majestic forest. Being a cheerful elemental creature she was kind to all of the forest, especially other earth, air fire or water souls.

"Yes I'm really that old. I'll tell you a secret. I kind of like being old, it suits me." He gave her a playful grin.

She began to giggle hysterically like a five year old. She loved his humorous spirit, the way he would find happiness and joy in every way of life. Willow spent most of the day visiting with the old satyr, listening to him play the magical flute. The wise satyr even told the most wonderful tales of adventure, she would get so excited when he spoke of human warrior tales, they were her favorite. She could imagine great big men dressed in armor with swords drawn ready to fight and defend their homes. Staying longer than she was supposed to, she hated tearing herself away from the satyr. Willow hugged him tightly before she fluttered away in a pattern much like a new butterfly, zinging here and sagging, the nymph still hadn't quite learned to fly very well.

The Satyr took his silver handled staff and walked back to his split level tree house hidden in the eastern direction of the majestic forest. He chuckled like the old soul that he had always been, even as a boy. His mother had said it often even when he was a child. She knew he would be special. He missed him more often these days. She was half human, half elven. His father had been a satyr as his father before him. It was tradition dating back before time had been recorded.

Walking into the entryway of his tree house, he smiled. He enjoyed being alone, but he also adored his close friends too. He treated little Willow like his own child, yet he had no children of his own. The residents of the forest were his children he loved and cared for them. He didn't live alone, not completely. His friend over the last few years was a supernatural crow. He looked around the tree house but didn't see his friend, Raven feather. The Satyr wondered where the blasted bird had flown off to this time. He was always doing that, and not that the bird couldn't handle his own, he just often worried over his friend.

Limping into the kitchen area, he used his magic flute; playing six notes on it witch then caused the coffee to brew on its own. Pouring himself a cup he carried it to a small oak carved desk in the corner of the tree house. Setting the cup down, he walked to his shelf of knowledge as he liked to call it. He picked up his work book and opened to the first page and leafed through it before sipping his coffee. When he reached to a blank page, he began scribbling in it. He spent most of his evenings at the desk scribbling and reading. He loved it almost as much as he liked to play music.

After he had scribbled three pages of his workbook he poured the second cup when his friend flew through the window opening on the other side of the room.

"What have you been up to old friend?"

"I need you to come with me, over to Tinian Hallows." Raven feather spoke in between gasps for air from the long and lightning speed flight.

"Why do we need to go there?"

"I found someone, she's hurt."

"Who is she?"

"I don't know, I haven't recalled ever seeing her before." The crow informed him in a serious tone.

The satyr smiled wide, he was intrigued by this new development. He packed a bag of supplies he thought he may need for the trip. Within minutes they were ready to go. Tinian Hallows was far, but not more than a few hours walk.

"What kind of creature is she?"

"I don't really know, she's not an elf I can tell that much. I can't tell if she's human or not."

"This is far too exciting. I hope the poor thing is alright."

"We will see to it that she is." Replied the crow to his curious friend.

The satyr began to walk a lot faster, his curiosity about the stranger in the forest getting the better of him. He wondered what kind of being she was, as he walked through the forest with the crow leading the way. The walk wasn't near as brutal as he had once remembered. Before he knew it the crow lead him around a large tree to the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen. He could hardly believe his own two eyes. Sitting there against a tall reddish purple elm tree, an angelic looking woman smiled at him. Her hair was long with flowing blue-black curls. She had the face of a porcelain doll, with teal colored eyes sparkling in the sun light shining through the branches of the elm tree.

"Thank you so much for coming to my aid, kind sir."

"You are most welcome; now tell me what the trouble is?"

"I seemed to have tripped over something and I've twisted my foot." She spoke with the most serene and hypnotizing voice he had ever heard.

"What is you name young maiden?" He asked wanting to know what he should call such an exquisite woman.

"Oh, how rude of me, I'm called Sati."

"The entire forest has called me satyr for so long, that's what I go by."

"Satyr it is wonderful to meet you sir."

"You too, now I'm going to lift you off the ground and carry you."

The crow rolled him beat little eyes in response to the satyr overdoing a good deed. The magical fellow hadn't noticed, he just began the two hour walk carrying an injured woman. He didn't mind it, he wanted to find out more about her, but tried not to badger her, she was already hurt and more than likely lost. He was intrigued and captivated by her, and he didn't know why, but didn't care. He was more than happy to help her.

"I was wanting to know, are you mortal?"

"I'm not mortal, I come from a race called muse."

"Remarkable, please tell me more about you." He pleaded giving a look of innocent fascination for her.

"I shall good satyr but I want to know about you and this place too."

"It is a deal."

She began explaining to him about muses, their talent of inspiring creative mortals.

"They have a small spark of spiritual enlightenment. When it is not harnessed, like a candle flame it can die out. A certain muse is assigned to specific mortals. We sort of keep the fire going. That's the best I can explain it."

His face had a look of pure awe; he couldn't believe he was rescuing a muse. He had never met one before now. She was the most interesting thing he had seen in decades. The crow walked a few feet behind them; he loathed the spark that was going on between his friend and the muse. He hated romance from the deepest levels of his very existence. It was quite disturbing to raven feather. He kept stopping behind them, so he wouldn't hear or see it as well.

Neither of them paid attention to the crow, they were so lost in conversation getting to know each other. It made the two hour walk carrying her delicate frame goes very quickly. Long before he knew it they had made it back to his tree house.

Sati looked around when he placed her gently in his lounge chair and grabbed a few pillows to prop up her twisted foot.

"I like your home; it is very warm and inviting."

"Thank you, tell me are you comfortable? Do you require anything?" He asked his new house guest, he was more than happy to do anything she asked.

"I think I'm fine, you are a kind soul."

He smiled back at her, and then the crow flew in through the window.

"Pardon my manners, this is Raven Feather."

"What a beautiful and mysterious creature."

"Well aren't you just a peach." The crow replied giving her a wink.

"I can't believe this, it talks!"

"Yes, it does." The crow replied giving her the evil eye.

Then his favorite nymph tapped at the door. Playing two keys upon his magical flute, the door creaked open. The injured muse was astonished by what he had just revealed to her.

Willow walked in bright eyed ready to see her satyr when she looked to the left of him to see a strange female with her satyr.

"Who and what is she?" The nymph asked, clearly offended by the muse's company.

"Now child be nice, this is Sati. A muse, she became injured near Tinian Hallow." He spoke gently as if correcting a child. It made the nymph's cheeks burn a blazing fire red.

The satyr then turned to his house guest. "This is my very good friend, Willow. She is a magical tree nymph. A rather young one I might add."

"Willow, it is good to meet you. I hope that we could be friends."

She nodded glared at him and then at the muse before flying off cursing under her breath. She flew south as fast as she could with tears in her small eyes. Secretly she had an infatuation with the satyr who feels she is a mere child. Her heart ached, a pain she had yet to experience before now. Flying faster and harder than ever before willow got lost. She had flown until it was nearly dusk, finding refuge in a cavern, she crept inside going further and further down.

The next day Willow never showed up. The entire community looked for her, weeks went by and no one saw her. The satyr looked for her, the muse did too. Months passed and Willow was never heard from again. No one ever heard from the gentle tree nymph again.

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