“Who is there?” Anya called.  Her voice echoed in the wind.

The music stopped.  “A wanderer,” came a voice like a waterfall.

Anya squared her shoulders.  “That is not a name.”

“You may call me Kosti,” he replied.  “I see that you are armed.  What a pity.  Fair things like you should not live in fear.”

“I am not afraid.”

“That, my girl, is a lie.  My music tends to stir up… rather unsettling emotions.  But I beg you relax.  You are safe.”

“Am I?” Anya said.  “The anglerfish's lure gives comfort before its bite.”

Kosti laughed.  He stepped from the pine's shadow.  “I am far from a fish.”

Anya...