Pan's Labyrinth: The Labyrinth of the Faun

by Guillermo del Toro

“Yes. You’re going to a very dangerous place.” The Faun lifted a warning finger, the lines on his forehead swirling like whirls in a bottomless river. “Far more dangerous than the last one. So be careful!” For a moment he sounded sincerely worried about her. “The thing that slumbers in that place—” He shook his horned head and frowned with disgust. “It is not human, although it may look like it. It’s very old and full of cunning and cruelty—and a great hunger.” He plucked a big hourglass out of the air and dropped it on Ofelia’s bed. “Here. You’ll need this, too. You’ll see a sumptuous banquet, but don’t eat or drink anything. Nothing!” This time both hands drew a warning sign into the night. “Absolutely nothing!” Ofelia looked at the objects on her blanket: the mandrake root, the satchel, the hourglass. Three gifts . . . just like the heroes in her fairy tales often received. These gifts always proved to be very helpful—unless one lost them or used them the wrong way. “Ab-so-lute-ly nothing!” the Faun repeated, his clawed fingers piercing the night. “Your life will depend on it.” And before Ofelia could ask him to tell her more, he was gone.