Jose's sad tone didn't last long, as his master's fear affected the magical pet.
The great white goose took advantage of his master's distraction to let go of his hand and flew over with wings wide open, fast and fierce like a cloud pinched by a storm, lunging and biting at the pretentious poet.
"Wait, wait, don't, ah!!!"
Jose dodged around with his xylophone, and his shiny and fashionable hairstyle was instantly scratched into a chicken nest by the big white goose.
The dashing and stylish poet stepped on a single shoe and was chased and chased by a big white goose; he couldn't even pick up his hat on the ground, and the women who were still waiting for him to fall in love with them couldn't help but cover their mouths and snicker.
Dill stood dumbfounded as a vendor not far away tossed her an apple with a broad smile.
"Well done, little girl; his screams are even better than his songs."
Dill didn't know what to do with the apple, so she could only chase Jose out of the marketplace.
They made their way to the outskirts of the city, where the great white goose didn't stabilize and stop being so agitated until after feeling the watery air of the lake.
Dill picks it up and calms it, and the goose bends its pretty neck and clings to the girl's arms, not looking as fierce as it did a moment ago.
Jose was really afraid of it and hurriedly apologized to Dill, "OK, OK, OK, it's my fault; it's my fault; I shouldn't have teased you! I shouldn't have teased you! Please spare me from that goose of yours!"
"What did you just say? I don't remember well." Dill was still wary of him, and she stroked the goose feathers one by one, a warning that spoke volumes.
Jose scratched at his disheveled hair anxiously.
He dropped his flippant tone and said with unexpected sincerity, "Where I come from, we call you messengers of the goddesses; my aunt was also a green nymph; it could be said to be a poet's intuition; I could tell right away that you weren't just any girl, but of course, slightly different from my aunt; you were like black velvet wrapped in glowing pearls; it was hard for me to take my eyes off of you.
Dill felt goosebumps all over her body and couldn't say she fully believed the other woman.
But just as there are mobs of people who worship werewolves, poets and singers are mostly lovers of witches, Mida's lovers also include a certain great man of letters who stayed in the palace, and they sing the praises of the immortal youthful mountain nymphs and seek inspiration from the mysterious and bright moon goddess; and even more, they cherish the beautiful women as fallacies.
Such people do have a special intuition more than normal people, although Dill does not believe in any sai, but the other party should seem to have no malice towards her at present.
The next step was his sighting.
Jose had been given a lecture by the big white goose and was now acting honestly.
He raised his hands in surrender and said, "Don't worry, Byfleet Court doesn't eat the sanctuary stuff; our Pantheon enshrines many goddesses; their faces are as loving as a mother to me, so I'm more interested in seeking your refuge than that knight-Mucha with the toy sword."
Instead of answering him head-on, Dill changed the subject: "Did you know that Lord Mucha was alone on his nightly rounds last night while all of us hid in the house shivering?"
Jose said without thinking, "Yes, a brave boy, the least of the Sanctuary's labor force; originally, I was thinking that his last name is Holzog, so he should have a few skills."
Seeing the puzzled look on Dill's face, Jose's voice tickled a bit again. He always had trouble turning down an audience.
"You know the Red Knight, right? There's also the Red Knight's Hymn, the savior who became famous by chopping off the Black Wolf King's head in a battle more than ten years ago. I heard that the blood of the Black Wolf was splattered all over his armor, and that before he left he was covered in flawless silver, and when he returned in triumph he was bright red as a flame, and that the Red Knight, whom everyone praised and feared, was the nobleman from Sarno, Holtzog."
Clearly uninterested in choppy heroic epics, the young poet said disdainfully, "I've heard of a Holzog who became the youngest Silver Knight, and they're supposed to be from the same family. But look at that boy; I bet he hasn't even killed a goose, and with his elders' glorious and bright names, he's tricked his way into pounds of silver to make his armor."
Dill lost some control of her mouth. "Age doesn't mean everything; some men can't even fight a goose."
But she underestimated Jose's thick skin, the man half not angry but winking and saying, "I am willing to bend the knee under your skirt."
Not waiting for Dill to push back, he turned his words straight down: "To be honest, I was expecting something from that boy, and what happened? He didn't even stab Sir Elder to death, causing everyone to worry for a night for nothing."
"Sir Elder has a grudge against you?" Dill had some trouble keeping up with the poet's thinking.
Now, no matter what Jose said, she probably wouldn't be surprised if he knew who the werewolf was, even if he danced and sang along.
Fiddling with his stringed lute, Jose laughed to himself, "Strange as it is for me to say it, my master, dear Lord Elder, is unusually enamored of all things werewolf, or else he wouldn't have rewarded me in particular: a wayward singer who sings all the Scarlet Poet's catastrophe verses backward, and who, I even suspect, did not come to Baeffler's Court for a tour of the city at all."
Dill didn't have a good feeling about Sir Elder, but for the moment, it was most unlikely that the favoring fellow was a werewolf.
"If you think there's something odd about him, why did you follow him to this werewolf-infested town?"
"Why else? If I survive, I bet I'll write a more majestic piece than the Fishy Poet for the world to sing."
You're more skeptical than Elder. Dill had heard enough.
She smiled and nodded, ready to leave, but Jose was in the middle of a conversation and couldn't just watch the little beauty leave.
"Poetry is storytelling; lies and truths weave stories; young God's Angel, you should read and listen more."