The elders call it forest song, that inexplicable phenomenon of people going missing from the village, only to be found three or four days later, or, like Nito, ten days later. By then, it’s too late – they are never the same again. Those who are retraced remember nothing. Except an incredibly sweet music coming from the forest, sweeter than the songs of courtship their age-mates sing at the harvest festival when marriages are contracted and the feast of the harvest combines with the feast of the marriage.
The songs draw them into the forest, deeper and deeper into the heart of the dark woods, until they grow so loud that the singing seems to be inside their heads, sung up close into their ears, their harmonies swaying back and forth and sending them into a deep slumber.
Bilie’s sister was seven when she heard about it. A young man had been missing for two days. In the early morning, the crier sounded the call to the menfolk. Forest song, murmured her mother to her…
