A halo of light, glittering like a celestial dance of shooting stars, swirled in a wide ring over the old man's head, flowing in a golden stream. His whole body was enveloped in a slightly penetrating, cold light.

Astonished at what he saw, Lear stared intently at the stranger. His radiant aura was now fading like a receding tide.

In a trembling voice the boy ventured, "You... You were the one who was there then... Who are you?"

The voice of the wind whispered through the trees, and their leaves rustled quietly in the dusky embrace of the forest, only adding to the mysterious atmosphere that surrounded them. Breaking the languid silence, the old man confessed his true nature: He was an angel-the last of his kind.

Lear looked at the old man. His white hair fluttered haphazardly in the wind, and his weary blue eyes stared deep into the distance. The boy's thoughts paused on a single question that excited him, and he said it aloud, as if addressing the mystery of the forest itself: "What is an angel ... to do in this place?"

The old man raised his blue eyes to the boy, and the bitterness of centuries gone by slipped into them. For a moment, the wind seemed to die down around them, and the rustle of the leaves faded, as if to give the boy a chance to hear the words of the last angel in the silence. And the old man answered in a quiet but firm voice, "I took an oath to protect this forest."

A torrent of disbelief and curiosity swamped Lear, and questions swirled through his head like a storm. Sensing the unspoken questions, the angel took a deep breath and decided to tell the boy everything from the beginning.