Ducking into an old, wood shaving smelling shop, Ember looked for the owner. The small silver bell chimed quietly as they entered the stooped establishment. The sign outside advertised toys, tools and woodworking of all kinds. Once inside, the three friends split directions. Mayabelle started looking at small silver toys, Idril perused the beautiful smooth wooden carvings and Ember's eyes shifted through small knives and tools. 

"Hello," said a wiry old man, stepping out of a dark back room. He was short and stooped with white hair sticking up all over and brownish crinkled skin. He wore a plain white tunic with a light brown vest and olive green hosen. A pair of round spectacles perched on his long nose. Ember looked up at him, smiling politely.

 "My name is Mr. Oswald, and I create everything in this shop. What can I help you ladies find?" he asked in a breathy, hoarse voice. 

"Wow," breathed Mayabelle, looking up at the old man. "You made all of this?"

"Quite right my dear," he said smiling down at Mayabelle. 

"We need help finding some whistles," said Idril, stepping out from around a shelf. 

"Of course," he said, smiling brightly, "right this way please!" He stepped out from behind the counter. To Ember's surprise, a fluffy cat-like tail as white as his hair followed him from behind the low table, trailing behind him as he lead them to a small display of whistles. 

"Anything your'e looking for in particular?" he asked them. 

"Well," said Mayabelle, gawking over each beautifully carved instrument, "I got lost in the woods recently and we needed some so we could find each other again. We're looking for something that matches each of us!" The old shopkeeper nodded, considering each of them. He looked over all of the whistles, finally plucking a silver one, a small piece of amethyst inlaid in one side and handed it to Idril. The colors matched her pale lavender dress and silver hairpiece perfectly. 

"Try this one, dear," he said.

Idril blew, and a melodious tune rang from it, like the chiming of beautiful elfin bells. 

"It's perfect," she said, looking in wonder down at the shopkeeper. He smiled, the wrinkles next to his eyes creasing. 

"Now for you," he said turning to Mayabelle. After a moment of searching, a polished, smooth, light colored wooden one was plucked from the selection. Swirled leafy designs were carved into the wood. Blowing on it gently, Mayabelle produced a sound like a small chirping bird flying in the sun. 

"Thank you!" she said, smiling widely at the man. 

Mr. Oswald turned to Ember last. "I haven't forgotten you," he said in his hushed tone. Digging through the stack again, he pulled a dark black whistle, carved delicately and painted with small flaming colors. Ember took it and blew. The sound was low, chilling but beautiful, like the mournful cry of an owl. 

Ember nodded her grateful, silent thanks. 

Traveling back to the counter, Idril fished out some coins, but the old carver refused to be paid the usual price, settling for half instead. 

"Be careful out there, and don't get lost!" he called, waving as the three friends walked out the door, back into the bustling crowd.