“What utter poppycock,” Oak protested, “I've never heard such
rubbish in all my years.”
I myself couldn't quite get over the sight of these three little men,
all talking in unison, but only hearing the one voice. It made me
feel a bit dizzy, to be honest.
“Let them finish,” Raven replied tersely, his patience obviously
wearing a bit thin.
“I don't need to,” Oak responded, “This is not the time for
fairy tales.”
“Maybe it is,” Raven said angrily, turning on him. “Maybe now
is exactly the right time for listening to these fairy tales.”
He paused to catch his breath. “This closed mind of yours,” he
added, “It's no use to the Forest whatsoever.”
Meanwhile, the three midgets were doing something especially odd.
One of them stood, bracing himself against the wall while a second
climbed up him, to stand on his shoulders. They stayed like that for
a moment, steadying themselves, then the third climbed up both of
them. Before I could speak he put something on his head. Once more
I stood aghast as some kind of silver liquid flowed down, covering
all three of them until they disappeared inside some sort of hooded
cape.
“If we may continue?” they asked from within their cowl.
