Everyone was silent in the classroom, staring at the teacher. The capybara had a straw of mate under his stache, and he snored a few times before opening his eyes, to the full classroom.

“It’s already 3 PM?” he thought to himself, rapidly shaking himself off the chair, walking with utmost naturality on the classroom.

“This has to work this time”, said Antonio to Olivia. She smiled back, shyly, hidden, retracted, and stared at her flute. Antonio asked her “Are you ready this time?” Antonio asked her. She didn’t respond, just shook her head yes, looking to the ground.

In front of them both, an intimidating, crystaline, empty glass laid upon a wooden table. Olivia peeped at it once more and trembled. So empty it was… But she closed her eyes, breathed deep into her lungs, and faced her flute once more. She positioned it right under her beak, gazing at the glass like a hawk.

“Olivia, I think you’re holding it upside down.” pointed out a goat that sat behind them. She freezed, and, as soon as she noticed it, replied “Oh right.”, looking left and right, while quickly correcting her instrument.

Ananias clapped his paws. “Okay class, now we’re continuing where we left off this morning” he said, between yawns. He dragged his chair to the musical score, and laid upon it like a piece of cheese on a sandwich. “That’s better” said Ananias. He grabbed his baton, his paw, and began the 3… 2… 1…

2/4 tempo. The trumpets began first. Then the tubas. Then the drums. Then the violin.

But the tempo began oscillating… Ananias, in his conductor chair, slowly closed his eyes, as the wobbly baton lost the beat.

Soon, each group was playing in their own rhythm and harmony, and the sounds meshed formlessly and chaotically into a storm of noise.

Antonio covered his ears. “Wake up Ananias!” he shouted amidst the sea of instrumentals, to no avail. But he turned back to his guitar. 

So shiny, sweet and new. It even smelled of brown flowers. Antonio couldn’t believe a luthier could rejuvenate a guitar so thoroughly. 

He waited no further, and soon an improvised jagged rhythm floated in the plucked strings.

“Okay, Olivia,” the owl thought in her own concentration, “Opus 6, you’ve already played it so many times before.” She fixed her eyes on Antonio’s guitar, and amidst all that noise, her ears pierced right into that quick rhythm he was playing.

She breathed, squinting her eyes, and blew on her flute slowly. 

Between all the dooting and banging behind, Antonio could hear her flute melody soaring once more. “Okay, let’s get this water going this time!” he shouted to her. 

Looking slightly to her right, where Antonio threw his chords into the air, she nodded. Following his tempo, they both focused their ears and gazed deeply into the glass. 

They did not bother to look when they heard a splash from behind. Then another. Then yet another one. The cheers and laughs could be heard all around. 

To the splashes and celebrations, Ananias returned to consciousness in a shuffle, quickly picking up the baton and returning to his original movements, thinking “I’m sure they didn’t notice…”

“Next one’s our turn, right Olivia?”, said Antonio, looking left. All her body was trembling, and her eyes were closed shut, yet she kept sending her best notes. Slowly, she nodded to him, trying not to look at their empty glass.

Soon, amidst more pours and cheers, the trumpeteers, the drumists, the violinists, all managed to spawn water onto their cups by uniting their music. 

As the instruments stopped group by group, only Olivia and Antonio were left playing. 

A strong grumble went up Olivia’s stomach, and her grip softened, such as her notes… “Olivia, keep at it” said Antonio, with fierce eyes upon their cup. 

Minutes had passed, and while the two played Opus 6, their classmates were leaving one by one. Their song was now echoing throughout the room.

“Olivia,” said Ananias by her side, gently touching her shoulder. She halted her last note. With trembling wings, she let her wooden flute fall to the ground.

There was not a single drop of water inside their glass.

“You’re a very good flutist,” continued Ananias, “not everyone needs to know how to throw spells.”

Her owl horns turned down, and her half-opened eyes stared deeply into the ground. 

“It must have been the tempo!” theorized Antonio, as they walked around downtown. Olivia, behind him, slugged through the streets, carrying her flute like a heavy weight. “We were a bit out of sync, right? I think if we just nail the rhythm a bit-”

“I can’t do it, okay?!” Olivia spilled, as a pulse of red came through her face, to disappear after Antonio looked at her, who held many doubts on his brow. “I’m sorry… I’m not a real flutist. I should have told you yesterday.” she continued, looking straight to the rustic bricks that covered the street. “I could never cast spells, no matter how hard I tried.” she chuckled, and swallowed her bitterness.

Antonio stopped his pace. He saw a pretty wooden bench by the shore, and came to sit on it. “You can’t cast spells…” he muttered to himself. He gazed at the clouds for answers.

But he could not think of one. He barely knew anything about how music worked in Paz. Magic, spells… “what even are these things doing? Are they controlling nature? Where does that power come from?” he asked himself.

Olivia sat right beside him, in silence. She was more interested in the trail of small ants that crossed the rocky streets. “I think my father was an explorer” she said as she remembered, “and he tamed ants and bees. Never met him, but from what they say, he was a good-hearted traveler.”

Antonio felt these words resonate inside his head. He studied her cautiously, as he figured out what he was supposed to say.

“Olivia, I think you…” Antonio recolected his words and breathed, “I think your ears are pretty”.

“They’re not ears, they’re feathers” corrected Olivia, rolling her eyes. 

Antonio rapidly scrambled through his thoughts again, sweating, “What I mean to say is… You play the flute, and your music is great. There’s always a way to make ends meet…”

Olivia smiled in her distant gaze. She peeped the same clouds her friend was looking at. 

“That’s not the right mushroom, stupid!” shouted a thin voice from behind, while another one hushed. Antonio’s ears perked up, and he swiftly turned back to see, behind the trees, two small wolf boys, sitting close to an ancient stone bridge covered in moss and vines.

“Is that the Mangrove bridge?” Antonio asked Olivia, whose mind was floating with the clouds. She shrugged, and forgot to look. Antonio sighed, and took a closer look at the two…

“Well, I told you before we went in! We needed the purple mushrooms” said the smaller one, with an orange and white mane and a storm in his voice, rapidly shuffling his paw inside a small brown bag, taking one mushroom from inside. 

“Fuça… right?” Antonio tried to remember the two wolf boys he had seen yesterday, as he observed them at a long distance. 

“These are clearly blue, are you color blind too, Mao?” continued . 

Mao, the taller one with a long, dark mane, picked up the mushroom, and examined it closely. “Well, what do you-” Mao slammed Fuça with the mushroom, and while he tried to hit his brother back, Mao took a step back and held him away, laughing loudly.

“I hate you!”, spilled Fuça, his entire body heated up, “I’m gonna do this myself, I don’t need your help!”. 

Fuça turned to the bridge with angry eyes, and took out his pandero, quickly beating a rhythm. After a few seconds, he looked down and sighed.

“Ugh… can you at least teleport me to the other side?” asked Fuça, defeated. Antonio listened closely. “The other side…” he thought.

Mao savored a wide, sarcastic smile, and gently picked up his violin to help his younger brother.

A gust of wind blew over them, and soon, Fuça was gone, while Mao laid by the river side.

“Why wouldn’t he just cross the bridge?” Antonio asked Olivia, who was now snoring by the bench. He quickly got up and went straight to the wolf boy but… “What?” thought Antonio, “Where did he go?”.

The cold winds of the night began to send shivers down the two. They took a last long look at the darkening sky before heading back to Olivia’s home, atop the hill.

“Olivia,” said Antonio, munching on pumpkin gnocchi by the dinner table, “did you see Fuça and Mao today”.

“Nope” she answered, “they almost never come to class.”

“No, I mean,” Antonio tried rephrasing himself “by the bridge.” Marina and Isa stopped their meal for a moment. “Did you hear them there?” he asked one more time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Olivia kept eating her meal slowly, just looking into her plate. Antonio held his words for a moment.

“What… What exactly lives on the mangrove?” he spoke with an open curiosity. Everyone’s forks dropped into their plates. 

Marina said quickly and quietly “We don’t talk about the mangrove here”, and she slowly opened a smile, leaving Antonio quite hesitant to continue. But his curiosity went further: “Why not?” was his next question, and he could notice Marina’s expression start to change palettes.

“It's bad luck”, she explained herself briefly, returning to her food, but Antonio wasn’t satisfied: “Why is talking about the mangrove such a well-kept secret? I need to know it if I’m going to-”. Olivia held Antonio’s shoulder. 

“Please stop.” she said, with a serious tone, before he could finish his sentence. 

Everyone kept quiet for a few minutes, while finishing their meals. “Dinners have been tense lately” Marina muttered, “I’ll make some ginger soup tomorrow, it helps calm the nerves” she said and giggled. 

Antonio sat by the mallock, looking at his red hat, while Olivia came from behind to talk to him.

Before she could say a word, Antonio began "I don't understand." He looked back to Olivia, who still had those same disappointed eyes from before. "Tom, there are things we'd rather not discuss", Olivia spoke softly. 

"But I can't stay here forever," Antonio continued, impatient, "and the only way through is by the mangrove. I'm not scared."

Olivia looked down. She wiped her forehead, and slowly came to sit by Antonio's side. "You're too young to cross to the other side." she lamented.

"No, I'm not!" he replied, "I'm just in a weird body for some reason, I've traveled way worse places". 

He would continue for hours if Olivia's wing didn't shut his snout. He tried shaking it away but couldn't.

"Look, keep it quiet," Olivia tried to calm him down, but the ram boy was still brutally struggling against her. He bit her wing with his soft sheep teeth, and Olivia lost patience. "It's a witch!" she finally admitted, "A witch lives in the mangrove. But she isn't nice like us, she uses magic to commit the most horrid crimes…". 

Olivia loosened her grip and Antonio was set free, staying silent for a moment.

Then, he threw himself into a deep laughter. "What, a witch?" he asked in amusement, "Does she live in a gingerbread house? Make a pie out of me?". Olivia kept her piling anger in her brows, "Why are you laughing?! This is serious!" she shouted, proceeding to pat the small bruise Antonio left on her wing.

Antonio breathed in all the laughs and returned to his normal state, only a bit more amused and breathing heavily. “Ah… witches… That’s ridiculous…”

“No, it isn’t…” Olivia mourned with her voice and eyes, to which Antonio was affected. His face also turned serious. “The witch takes every person she can…” she continued with hesitation, shedding one tear by her cheek, “she opens them up, keeps them alive with her spells, and takes their liver. Then… she cuts the liver and eats it in a bowl, in front of the poor victim…” Olivia flinched for a moment. “This is the story my sisters told me… It’s pretty horrifying. And that’s just one of the macabre things she is capable of…” 

Antonio looked at Olivia, completely neutral. No happiness, no anger, completely ambiguous.

"I won't say her name out loud" Olivia whispered, "but she can cast spells with her Cello alone." she almost shivered. "She's very dangerous and powerful, Tom. I don't want you to get hurt, alright?"

Antonio watched the stars above, and reflected upon all that. He returned Olivia a gentle smile.

"Alright," he said, "I won't get into trouble, Olivia."

Olivia sighed in relief, and smiled. She got up from his mallock, and patted him good night.

Antonio was now alone again, appreciating his hat.

By the midnight moon’s shine, no one saw the quick, hooded figure dashing through the streets of Baleias. 

The creature in the red hat pondered, for a few minutes, upon the mossy, foggy bridge.

“These people are nuts,” he thought, “I’ve been through worse places.” He held tight his guitar, such a heavy burden for him now, and sent out a short charm to his kind friend. “Sorry not to say goodbye to you personally” he muttered to the dark. 

“But if there is someone who could possibly know how to fly unburdened…” he thought, knowing he would find out her secrets.

And so, he took his first steps on the Mangrove bridge, as he tried to ignore the sudden trembling in his legs.