Flash Fic Month '11. July 22nd

Pandora awoke from another dream of nymphs dancing in a woodland glade to the tune of a smoky pipe, and for a long moment lay still in her bed, wondering what had roused her from sleep as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of her room. She bolted upright, heart suddenly hammering in excitement, as strains of fluting music drifted to her through the window, which she had left open because the night had been hot. Though she had never heard it before, she recognised the tune instantly, and was immediately filled with restless energy and the desire to dance barefoot on cool grass under the light of the moon and stars.

No sooner had the thought entered her mind than Pandora was scrambling out of bed; striving to remain quiet so as not to disturb her parents sleeping in the next room as she pulled on the pair of walking boots at the end of her bed. She didn't bother changing out of the green, soft cotton tanktop and loose pants she wore as pyjamas, but instead got up and went to the wide bay window as soon as her laces were tied, throwing back the curtains.

White moonlight streamed into the room, making the floating specks of dust sparkle and Pandora blink in the sudden brightness before her eyes cleared, and she was unable to swallow the grin of anticipation that leapt to her face; the full moon had gilded everything outside with purest silver, and the stars were huge and clear. The piping music wrapped around her like a smoky ribbon, and Pandora flung the window wide, setting a foot on the sill, already rehearsing how she would swing herself out onto the ivy-bound trellis and climb down.

Don't forget the violin…

It was almost as though another voice had spoken the thought in her head, but Pandora didn't question it and immediately went to gather the instrument and its bow from the metal stand in the corner. Clutching the violin in one hand, she once again clambered up onto the sill, and this time nothing stopped her from grasping the wooden lattice that climbed the side of the house, and using it to safely reach the ground. With one last glance at her open window and the darkened bedroom beyond, Pandora grinned wildly before crossing the garden as silent as a wraith, unlatching the arched garden gate set into the back hedge, and slipping through it.

The boundary of the wood lay just across the quiet country road that backed the garden, behind an old, dry brick wall, and though the trees loomed tall and dark above her, Pandora didn't hesitate in crossing the road and climbing over the style. As soon as she entered the fringe of trees, the music became louder, and she stepped from the forest path without fear; she didn't need it, the song of the pipe was calling to her. All Pandora had to do, was follow.

Under low branches, over fallen logs, and through brambles she went, always following the elusive music that so tugged at her. It fell silent as she reached a gurgling brook, but Pandora instinctively raised her violin and played a few bars that were both thrillingly new and hauntingly familiar. Immediately the distant music of the pipe swelled once again and Pandora crossed the stream.

She made her way through the wood in that way for a while; following the music, pausing to play a reply, following the music again, until at last she came to an open glade lit by moonlight, and found the nymphs dancing. With them danced satyrs, those without partners clustered around a huge fallen tree and watching, with hair and fur of every shade and hue of brown, grey, black, and blonde, and Pandora finally saw who was playing the pipe music which had drawn her here.

The Satyr was both young and ancient, with long red-brown hair shot with silver and dark eyes which held both mischief and wisdom. She recognised him, though she could not remember from where, and she knew his name, though she could not recall it. It was to his tune that all in the glade danced, and for a long moment, Pandora could only gaze at the scene in wonder, until those dark eyes turned to her, standing at the edge of the trees, and the music faded as he lowered the pipe from his lips. The dancers came to a stop, all turning to see what had caught their master's interest, and Pandora almost shrank back into the cover of the trees, until the Satyr laughed in delight, his voice rich and deep as summer and his teeth sparkling white, and raised a hand in greeting.

"Well met, little one!" he called, and beckoned her to come forward.

Shyly, Pandora obeyed, acutely aware of all the eyes of the nymphs and their satyr partners upon her, and only stopped when she reached the Satyr whom had called her. He smiled at her.

"Pray tell, little human, from whence have you come?" he asked her, the amusement in his voice dancing in his eyes, "For it is not often that a human stumbles upon our reveries." He swept out an arm to indicate the glade and its dancers.

"I dreamed of you," Pandora whispered breathlessly, "And I followed the music… you called me, and I came."

The Satyr's grin widened, pleased with her answer.

"What is you name?"

"Pandora."

Hushed murmurs immediately arose from the dancers, but the Satyr waved a hand to silence them. He seemed even more amused than before.

"Pandora…" he said, grinning, "You are welcome here, young one. Come, join us." Pandora hesitated, feeling her courage trickling away.

"I don't know…"

"Do not be afraid," the Satyr reassured her gently, "You will be safely home before dawn… and there are many men here without dance partners…" He spread an arm, and from the group of satyrs sitting around the huge fallen tree, one came forward. He was young and handsome, with dark curly hair and inky black fur, and he smiled at Pandora, bowing to her before taking her hand and kissing it lightly.

Pandora blushed, and the Satyr grinned and put the pipe to his lips. Music filled the glade once more, and the couples began to dance. With a laugh, Pandora set aside her violin, grasped her partner's hand, and allowed him to lead her into the dance.