Brentwood had fallen into a state of despair and depression. The third day since Will had gone, councilor Roth’s body had been found in town hall, an empty bottle of pills in his hand. Mayor Wulf and the others had been run out of town. Another mayor was elected, and she passed a law that on the widest street in town, no instrument should be played, nor could you sing in the road where Will had lead the rats and the children away. I was the only child in town left.
Bentwood was still pristine, still calm and still prosperous, but it would never forget the tragedy of the summer solstice. The people carried themselves differently than before.
And no one would forget the blue eyed musician who had been our downfall.
And I would never, ever forget the piper’s tune.
