“Yes?” The man grasped at his mane of white, wispy hair. He pulled it to his eye for inspection. “What about it?”
My gaze was not the only one that moved towards him. I was the only one that stepped forward and asked the question we were all thinking. We were a lost tour group in a cave and there was a man perched behind the railing with a tall, triangular hat and billowing robes.
“Is your name Merlin?” I ask.
The man pulled a twisted pipe out of his chest pocket. “Sometimes.”
“Can you help us get out of here?”
He kicked away from the cavern and in two long paces he was leaning against the railing that kept us from the cave’s natural terrors. He leaned over so our eyes met. I wondered, briefly, if he was one of those terrors.
“How old are you?” he asked, instead of answering my question.
“What does that matter?”
“You’re tiny, are you an undeveloped human or have I been here for longer than I thought?”
“I’m not undeveloped, or whatever, I’m twelve!”
“Well, that explains it them.”
I wanted to kick him, but kicking people was not the way to get what I wanted. “We need help.”
“So you’ve said,” his eyes narrowed, he blew a tendril of smoke into the space between us. “You’re very brave for asking.”
I step back. “Why? Are you dangerous?”
“Sometimes,” he winked then put his pipe back in his pocket and pulled out a long, long, wand, far too long to fit in a pocket. “But I will help you.”
With a flick of his wand, the cave around us fell away. I flinched at the light, hand rising to my eye in instinct. When I lowered it, he was gone.