The forest behind Adam's house had always been full of the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds, but this spring something had changed. Animals appeared less frequently, and at night, instead of quiet sounds, strange, broken melodies could be heard, as if someone was trying to play a flute, the sound of which carried across the valley and disappeared in the thickening mist. Adam was thirteen years old and had a far too vivid imagination, the adults claimed. But that night he didn't sleep because of worry, he slept because of curiosity. He decided to get up, threw on a sweatshirt and quietly crept across the living room to the terrace. There, under the starry sky, he sat on the step and listened. The melody resounded again, this time closer, almost just beyond the fence. After a moment, a fox emerged from behind the bushes. He was lean, with a shiny red coat and a gaze that seemed more understanding than Adam had ever seen in a wild animal. The boy held his breath as the fox looked him straight in the eye. The animal walked over, placed something on the grass and watched intently as Adam walked closer. On the ground lay a strange wooden flute, covered with engraved symbols that the boy could not read. Suddenly there was a shrill roar from the woods, the likes of which Adam had never heard before. The fox cocked its ears, barked softly and sprinted off into the darkness, leaving the boy, the flute and the premonition that he had just become part of a mystery he had never dreamed of even in his wildest dreams. Adam picked up the instrument and at the same moment two glowing pairs of eyes emerged from behind the trees. An icy breeze pierced the air, and the melody he had heard earlier began to resound this time as if from within the forest itself.