Mother always told us to stay out of the woods. It never seems like a strange thing to believe. Of course my brother and I would never venture out to the lands where birds sing without a voice. There, where night is filled with the sounds of metal colliding with metal as if trying to recreate a dance that has been long forgotten, for an audience who cares not for it’s cries. Still, when we were told to follow mother into that place we obeyed. There was truly no other option, our winter supplies were getting low and she had the idea of sending us off into that wretched land. Now I fear that there was never an intention of allowing us to return. The gate guarding the boundary was grand and imposing, a warning of what lies ahead for any foolish enough to cross the threshold. It reached higher than the rusted trees and was coated in a material that seemed to shine even though it was dark outside. As soon as we stepped across the boundary it closed behind us as if to devour us whole. Every step we took seemed to vanish as soon as we lifted our foot, so once the gate faded out of view we began to mark our path with anything that contrasted with the dull bronze of the road. It had felt like days had passed before we arrived at the house, its soot black roof and cobble walls were more akin to a blacksmith that a place of residence. Still out of either foolish hope or plain desperation we knocked on the door. When it opened though, I realized our mistake. This was not an ordinary man, nor was it a witch like in those old stories. No, the creature beyond the door seemed more like a poor disguise of humanity, done out of habit instead of a desire to appear like a person. Its claws scratched the doorframe as it gestured for us the come in, and when we accepted the offer its eyes seemed to glow as two horns narrowly missed the chandelier hanging above. Despite my misgivings, our host was kind to us, providing food and shelter in return for help in its workshop. It seemed that all that we had seen since stepping into this place was its work. By twisting wired and connecting gears it, and soon I, could create a convincing replica of a bird that could fly without feathers. Still no matter how hard I tried I could not coax even a single note out of the machine. In the end I had simply put in down to a lack of experience. My brother on the other hand always seemed off every since we entered the house. He never displayed much interest in creating mechanisms so he was mostly relegated to fetching items from other parts of the house. Every time he was out of sight however, he didn’t return for increasingly long periods of time. It all came to a head about a month since we left. One evening my brother had taken much longer than expected to retrieve an component. After some time I heard a great crash from inside the house as if something had collapsed. The halls were lined with inventions placed on shelves so it was not out of the question that my brother had perhaps knocked one over while searching for the needed material. Our host rushed out of the room, completely abandoning its current project and when it returned it said nothing, despite my curious glances. The next day my brother was conspicuously absent from breakfast. After the meal was finished I mentioned this detail to my host, who only sighed. He explained that my brother had “transgressed” and was asked to leave. It also suggested that I should also return home, lest our family worry over my absence. I agreed and gathered enough food for the return journey. Before I walked out the door my host stopped me and handed over a small box with instructions not to open it until a decade had passed. With this in mind I travelled along the bronze road that would lead home, taking care to not stray from the one littered with what I now recognize and bolts and gears. When I finally arrived at the border those on the other side looked shocked to see me though they eventually let me through. To my surprise, there was no sign of my brother. Given his bold attitude I assumed that he had gone off to seek a new adventure someplace else. When I reached home mother seemed almost disappointed at my return, but she quickly changed tune when I told her what I had learned on my journey. She brought me to the blacksmith and bade me to recreate one of the inventions I saw. The result was a small floating orb that resembled a cloud. Amazed at the mechanism, the wealthier people among the crowd offered outrageous sums for it. I didn’t have to work often as the pay from one creation was typically enough for a month of expenses. I was even contracted by the government to devise a system of transport for the rapidly growing population. My experiences in the forest had begun to slip my mind, until exactly ten years had passed. The wealth I received from my creations allowed me to move into a larger home after my parents had passed away mere months after my return and so it took some time to find the box. Within was that mechanical bird that I had made so long ago, except now it sung just as beautifully as a live nightingale. Next to it was a note written in faded handwriting: “the punishment of theft, the reward of knowledge. Created by Miss Gretel. Voice provided by Mister Hansel”