The music stopped. The wind blew out the light. Silence. She could only hear the crickets outside and her own heartbeat. Her eyes were kept forward, her mouth agape while her hands covered it. The moonlight shone in the room through the door, making it look peaceful and exquisite.

Dark brown eyes stared at her. His lips parted, trying to utter a word. He did not respond to the intruder, except by keeping silent and gripping his musical instrument tightly. Never before had she seen someone like him, however he looked vaguely familiar.

"I'm... I am sorry for barging into your home uninvited," she said, trying to sound polite. He continued to stare at her.

‘How could someone look this angelic?’

She stood at the doorway, fumbling her hands in nervousness. "I was just curious..."

Her words trailed away when he still had a shocked look. His eyebrows rose in recognition and he shook his own head to bring himself out from his state of surprise. He looked at her, his countenance full of worry.

"My queen, you aren't supposed to be here," he said, lighting up there candles once more.

She knew that. He lived alone, in the woods, no one had probably heard or seen him, he was suspicious. However, she was confident that he would not commit any evil deeds to her. His warning gave it away.

His home brought her comfort. The yellow candlelight, his music and his warm presence made her happy. The loneliness was gone. She knew she must return to the palace, but it was so lonely there. She wanted to feel this warmth inside her forever.

She slumped her shoulders, her fatigue slowly taking over her. Her lips transformed into a frown. Now that she was there and found out the truth, she did not want to return to that lonely place.

The young lad saw her depressed state, and slowly stood up. He stepped closer to her. With an outstreched hand, he lightly tugged her jaiñkyrshah. Since he was not used to company for a long time, he was shy. His eyes avoided contact with hers, while his body language invited her in.

‘How adorable!’

She felt her cheeks warming up as she took his hand. He let her take a seat on the carpet where he had sat just before. She wanted to complain, but seeing that there were no seats or chairs of any sort, she shut up.

It was an awkward silence a few seconds later. Not being able to take it anymore, he stood up and attempted to reach into a cupboard. "Wh-what would you like? I don't have anything to offer you, but —"

"No, it's fine!" She pulled him back to the floor. Her hand went to her mouth when she realized that she accidentally shouted. Looking at his puzzled face, she sighed, while her fingers fiddled with the edge of her cloak.

"I-I can't stay long," she said, looking at the moon. "Will you please play a song for me, before I go?"

"But you have your palace musicians. Won't they play for you?" He tilted his head.

"Your music is unique," she replied. "I have never heard something so pleasing come out from a bamboo pipe. I want to know how you play it with this."

She eyed the woodwind instrument and reached out for it. He placed it in her hand and she examined it, touching its holes and the entire bamboo tube. She blew into it, but the sounds it made were unpleasant.

Her body flinched at the sounds while he chuckled at her confused face. He took back his flute and blew into it, his fingers moving blocking the holes accordingly. Her eyes widened at the change of tune.

She watched his position of the flute, his closed eyes, and the peaceful smile he had. Her heart lept with each flow of notes. He swayed accordingly to the pitch and loudness of the sound. The music was sad, melancholic, as if he longed for someone.

With each tone, her mind went to her king. On her darkest days, he would enter her room and give her a smile that would instantly lift her spirits up. Each morning he would bring her the most fragrant flowers. She would melt in his warm hands each night, listening to his soothing voice.

The cold wind entered through the opened door and she shivered, her hands rubbing against her arms. Her face was filled with sadness and grief. Her body longed for his touch. She leaned against the wall, which was warm, sighing.

"Tha...nk... you," she muttered, using her hands as a pillow.

Her eyes slowly drooping, she yawned. She got closer and closer to the floor, finally ending up lying on it. Her figure was curled to warm herself up, while sleep started to overtake her. Her consciousness dimmed into the world of dreams.

He stopped playing, noticing the queen sleeping on a cold carpet. Out of consideration, he covered her with a blanket. She snuggled in it, appreciating the gesture even in sleep. He patted her head so that she would feel warmer.

"Inferior objects like this can produce something beautiful," he spoke, holding up his flute, even if she could not hear his words. "That is the same for people too."

He put it between his lips and blew gently into it, continuing his earlier song. Sweet notes filled the air once again, the crickets, the owls and even the wolves adding melody to it. The moonlight started to peek in once again, the clouds being blown away. The night felt alive, despite of its nature.

•

Her eyes fluttered opened and she got up, groaning. She stopped midway stretching. She was not on her comfortable bed, but a hard carpeted floor. The walls were made with cheap bamboo and mud, not the hardwood of the palace. It smelled of pine, not the fragrance of flowers from her garden.

When you're half asleep, you tend to forget certain events. As the cock crowed, she searched the room to remember if anything happened. The store was empty, there were no trace of clothes that she could see and no blankets or sheets that decorated the furniture.

The only things present were the carpet, the old ash in the furnace, and a box that was locked. She wanted to open it but knowing the stories of supernaturals, she resisted the temptation. She slowly tiptoed outside, aware that she just had a sleepover outside.

The cock crowed once more as the sun peeked from the hills, turning the sky golden. She scurried through the woods to the palace, knowing they would be worried. Then she would have to explain why she had slept in an abandoned house.

Or was it? She seemed to remember that she had been talking to someone the previous night. If he had been present, he disappeared without a trace. Where was he? She wanted to meet him once more. 

He had such a deep and gentle voice that brought her peace. His brown eyes were as warm as life and could make her smile. She still felt that phantom touch on her head which helped her sleep. Her heart leapt at the thought of him.

'No.' She put the thought away. She must not have such thoughts; despite her longing. In a few months... in a few months, her beloved will return. That musician in the woods was just a dream.

****

“For He shall not much remember the days of his life; because God answereth him in the joy of his heart.” (Ecclesiastes 5:20)