The lights in the darkness became an obsession to Nabal. He sat watching, afraid to move lest he scare the creatures away. He listened to the eerie song for hours and memorized its rhythm. The words were in a language he could not understand but the tone was ominous. He forced himself to creep toward the lights.

The light was coming from a city of little glowing people. The city sat recessed in the base of a large oak tree. Miniature glowing towers stretched up surrounding a small well in the center. The small people came out from the towers and gathered around the well looking down into its dark water, their own reflections not showing in the pool. Each of the peculiar finger-sized men dressed in their own individual manner.

Some wore hats, others wore long robes. Some carried tiny swords clipped to their belt's others wore trousers and seemed to carry on with tasks among the towers from sweeping out leaves to gathering fruit and seed. They had a language like the chittering of a squirrel.

Some appeared not to have noses, their counterparts would have a variety of beaks and snouts such as Nabal had never seen. One of the people even had horns like a ram. Even calling them people was a far too loose description of them. They were similar to people in that they walked on two feet when they walked. They could fly like a dragonfly though he could see no wings on their backs.

When they flew around, they were like glow bugs. Balls of light in every color. Nabal followed them obsessed. He wondered at them but did not try to get their attention. He ran his hand down his long beard to straighten out rouge whiskers. He would need to trim it back square again when he returned to Windal. He squatted down lower as an Imp or a Spry flew out from the city. He wasn’t sure which they were yet.

There were no roads or paths in the miniature city, only clusters of small houses among the towers like a grouping of wild mushrooms. Even the houses seemed to glow that faint blue light. Nabal reviewed the fables in his mind. He knew that a man could bond with the little creatures. He knew also he would have to learn their song. He tried to memorize the strange words of the song. What would happen if he sang the song wrong? He did not know what would happen if he got the song wrong. Would they vanish if he mispronounced a word? Would they attack him? He would just have to risk it.

He began by whistling the tune lightly as he crept up to the glowing hole in the tree. The little city began to stir more erratically. Little creatures darted to each other making a chatter like that of a squirrel or chipmunk. Feeling bold he softly sang the tune as best he remembered it. The glow of the city began to change from blue to purple. Little men ran out of their little houses and climbed up on their rooftops. Some flew out of the hole and hovered in the air in front of Nabal.

He sang the song louder. The flying little creatures hummed along and glowed brighter. Their glow was a deep velvet now. Their little hairy faces turned up to the sky as they hummed along. The ones on the houses began to play tiny stringed instruments and flutes. They all began to sing along in the chorus. Nabal’s hair stood up on his arms at the sound of a thousand tiny, beautiful voices singing in harmony.

He sang the third part of the song loudly with his own face turned upward to the stars. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes and his throat began to feel like he had swallowed an apple whole. He was about to burst into happy tears when he heard a single little person clapping slowly. He looked down, the glow of the city and that of the flying Spry had changed to blood red.

The clapping little man walked out in front of Nabal. His brows ears and teeth all came to sharp points. Even his brown goatee was cut to a point on his chin. He was narrow built with a bow and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. He did not have the legs of a man. From his stomach down he was covered in black and red scales. His feet were three-toed with claws, and he had a tail with a rattler on it.

The other Spry made a rattling noise with their throats at him and glared at him. Nabal knelt down as the Lizardman stopped clapping and grimaced. “You didn’t get the words right kid. Do you even know what you are singing?”

Nabal blushed. “No.”

“It is an ode to a dead God.” The other Spry rattled louder and grew brighter in their red glow. “If you want to bond with these fools though go ahead. They will teach you the ways of the weak. They are the experts on being small. Meek and cowardly every one of them.” He spoke loudly with his hairy chest pushed out. “They wonder why their God lost power over the earth. Open your eyes fools!” He wiped the spit from his mouth with the back of his furry arm. “It is because of these gullible pathetic Spry that there is such suffering among the beasts of the fields and the kingdoms of man. It is time for man and Spry to take a stand. Bring down the strongholds and start a revolution.”

“Why do they not speak?” Nabal looked around at all the angry Spry.

“They are not permitted.” The prickly lizard man leaned against a tall weed and plucked something from his ear looking at it like it were revolting.

“What is your name Spry.” Nabal squatted lower dropping his knee to the earth.

“My name cannot be properly pronounced by your clumsy tongue and its meaning is far too precise a prophecy to be mishandled. You can call me Imp.”

“Your name is a prophecy?” Nabal prodded. “What does your name mean?”

“Every creature's name is a prophecy waiting to be revealed. That is not what you came here in search of though. You came here to bond.”

Nabal nodded, “how do I do that?”

The pointed eyebrows of the spry shot up even higher. “You must present a sacrifice. The greater the cost of the sacrifice to yourself, the greater the bond.”

“You mean gold? An animal?”

“Something dear to yourself, something difficult to give up.” The Spry paused and looked at the long dark braid that rested on Nabal’s shoulder. “What a wonderful long braid you have.”

Nabal covered the braid with his hand. “It has never been cut. It is an honor for a descendant of Windal.” Nabal paused. “You want my hair?” His brow furrowed.

“No. I want your left eye,” the small man smiled wickedly, “but if the hair is too much.” He yawned and covered his mouth. Imp turned to walk back to the glowing village.

“Wait.” Nabal let go of the braid. Imp glanced over his shoulder at Nabal waiting. “You can have my hair Imp.”

Imp winked at Nabal then began to grow half his size greater in stature. He glowed a dark blue and pounced on Nabal’s head. He landed on his scalp and began to tear the hair out by the roots. Nabal screamed and fell back in pain. The hair fell to the ground and caught fire as it struck the earth. The Imp ripped the hair as eagerly as a starving wolf on fresh prey. Nabal reached up to snatch the small man from his head but pulled away only a handful of dark hair that fell to his elbow. He stared at the hair with wide eyes. It felt as if he had carved the skin from his head and decided to cool the agony by sticking his whole head in a bucket of hot coals.

Imp came to a stop panting and wiping drool from his mouth with the sleeve of his green coat. “It really is a pleasure doing business with you Nabal.” Nabal collapsed to the ground his eyes rolling back in his head.