The night was cold, and the village lay in silence beneath a blanket of darkness. A thin layer of mist curled around the wooden houses, clinging to the rooftops like a ghostly veil.
The wind whispered through the trees, low and haunting, yet the night seemed calm, ordinary in every way. Then came the sound of soft footsteps.
A small boy, no older than seven, crept quietly from his home. His hair was tousled from sleep, and he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.
He had woken suddenly, feeling the urge to pee. The outhouse wasn't far, just beyond the back fence, near the row of garden plots.
As he shuffled through the cold night air, he noticed something strange, a song. It was faint at first, barely more than a breath carried by the wind.
Yet the longer he stood there, the clearer it became, a sweet, lilting melody that seemed to dance just beyond his sight.
It wasn't a song he recognized, yet it felt familiar, like a tune he had once heard in a forgotten dream.
