A playful warmth spread over the boy as he stood trying to decipher the first clue, staring hard at the tattered paper. His companion hiccupped nearby, and he turns to offer August a wide grin, reading the clues aloud. Under normal circumstances, perhaps his mind would work a bit clearer… but tonight, everything is pleasantly fuzzy. I’m Pan, not Oliver… he corrects with a chortle. Oliver is my significant otter… Pan releases a belly-laugh at the pun, obviously pleased with his terrible joke as the otter groaned and squeaked indignantly, fishing back into the satchel for more pastries to snack on.
So… whaduyou reckon? His words are slurred together as he puzzles back over the clue. I think there’s a lake around here… water’s blue… and I’ve seen some paintings of lakes before…? He didn’t sound overly confident in his answer, but maybe the golden stallion had a better idea. After all, August called Denocte home, so he was bound to know more about this place than a mere passer-by.
Pan reaches to scratch at an itch on his haunch, one leg twitching like a dog as he finds the spot and grins foolishly in the lantern-light. Why do they call you August? Isn’t that a month? Pan had heard weirder names, he supposed… maybe he was born in August? Or maybe his mom and dad had met in August? Names were a peculiar thing. He didn’t know why he was called Pan, come to think of it… maybe it was rude to even ask.
Gathering up his satchel, he pulled out a broken compass, staring at it as its needle flopped around uselessly. Which way to the lake? He turned to the left, then to the right, and then he simply decided to sit down and let August figure out where to go, unable to determine up from down.
Gotta love festivals, the boy decided, excitement warring with confusion in his muddled mind.
@August
