Investigate the music

You can’t just ignore the sound of the flute, not when there is the potential that there might be someone around to help you. You quickly get up and head towards the sound of the woodwind instrument, the conforning whistle reassuring you that this was the right choice.

The sound of the flute grows louder until you find the ultimate source of the music. Sitting in a small clearing on top a tree stump is a handsome, shirtless man. Dark, bushy hair covers his head, chin, chest, and arms. You keep approaching him, his emerald eyes catching sight of you. He doesn’t stop playing the instrument, only giving you a knowing nod as he continues to let the calming melody swirl into the forest air.

You find yourself next to him, sitting down in order to listen to the beautiful song. His more unique features become so apparent now: the swirling sheep horns on his head, the fuzzy fur on his legs, the hooves in place of toes. And amongst all these features, stands a painfully erect manhood. It’s veiny base is dark but it quickly shifts to a pale tone through a spotted pattern before ending in a flared head typical of a hooved animal.

You can’t draw your eyes away from the symbol of masculinity that stands so tall before you. You think to touch it, wrap your fingers around it, and feel its heat against your palm. But before your thoughts turn to actions, the song ends and the satyr lowers his flute.

“Hello, beautiful maiden,” he says in a deep but soothing voice. “I didn’t expect to find someone like you wandering so far out here in the forest, but I welcome the sight. Won’t you join me for some food and drink?”

You feel your stomach growl at the word food and without even thinking about it, you nod your head. The faun takes your hand and helps you onto your feet, leading you past a few trees and towards another tree stump. This one is wide and on it sits a basket of fresh fruit, a couple gourds of wine, some cheeses on a grape leaf, and a linen full of salted, dry meats.

Your mouth starts to water instantly, but your uncertainty is getting the better of you.

“You would offer your food and drink to a stranger. What is it you wish in return?” you ask.

“I would only ask that I have someone to celebrate with,” the satyr says.

“Celebrate? Celebrate what?”

“Why, life of course!” the half-goat says.

“Life?” you ask in confusion.

“Yes. A celebration of life. You look like someone who barely escaped with hers, so why not celebrate the occasion?”

“How do you know that I barely escaped with my life?” you ask, gripping your spear tighter.

“Just a guess. Weapons at your side. Sweat and dirt on your brow. Hungry and tired. It’s obvious you’re on the run from something. But don’t worry, you’re safe here. Nothing dangerous ever wanders to this part of the forest, so why not take a breather and have a drink and be merry for awhile?”

The satyr picks up a wine gourd and takes a good sip from it before handing you the drink. “Come now. Drink. What’s the harm in relieving the tension brought on by near ****?”