Edelmiro

Edelmiro's eyes got that big from listening to so many secrets: he's the forest's secret-keeper. People think they're talking to themselves when they say things to the air to get them out — in the car, in the shower, walking — but someone receives them. He's nearby, dressed all in blue to blend into the evening, and his talisman does the rest: the amethyst at its base gathers what was said, seals it, and the mushroom stands guard so nothing escapes or comes back to hurt. He never repeats them; a secret told to Edelmiro weighs half as much, and no one finds out. That's why he goes about with his hand on his chin, as if thinking, when really he's guarding everything entrusted to him unawares. Some things only need to be said once, in a low voice, to someone who knows how to keep them.