A Tale for Tomorrow

They all shook themselves up like children, stood up dancing and Svanil intoned a marching song and Blanche and Le Rai took the lead on the path to the large mansion; one pulled out a flute and another a harmonica and several voices joined in, yet without disturbing the calmness of the woods.

They would prepare a great supper, the most excellent of their entire unexplainable stay, and it would be their homage and reverence to this attentive and generous atmosphere that had welcomed and sustained them.

Moving amongst the trees and shrubs loaded with wild berries and cherries and gathering some in their kerchiefs, they collected dead wood for the stoves and edible mushrooms, spinach and rhubarb, for they were all thinking of baking tarts for their last dinner together.

And so they went, without haste.

As they were approaching the large nameless house, the internal movement of concentration like a need was rising in each of them. It was as if they were heading to a sort of inner feast, an important feast of which each had to be worthy.

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