Picnic At The Bonfire Glade

[Bêthberry]

No one had seen Bethberry excuse herself from the culinary campaign, and, in a mood relatively subdued after all the hijinks, no one had paid particular attention to the north end of the Glade. Dusk was falling and the evening chill was coming on. The forest became ever more alive and aware--a fact which the picnic guests could now no longer ignore. Suddenly, light flared from the north end, illuminating faces in strange, dancing, distorted images.



The bonfire was lit, Bethberry reappeared, and in her calm voice, somehow made eery by the dusk, she said, Let the stories begin.