So Pierrot had whispered, and he was right.

In the golden night the Willow was waiting, for it was she who had gambled most, and it was she who must lose or win.

She uttered no sound, replied not to the low voice of Pierrot, but held her breath and watched Baree as he slowly faded away, step by step, into the shadows.
In a few moments more he was gone.

It was then that she stood straight, and flung back her head, with eyes that glowed in rivalry with the stars.
"Baree!" she called.

"Baree! Baree! Baree!" He must have been near the edge of the forest, for she had drawn a slow, waiting breath or two before he was and he whined up into her face.