You decide to go straight to check out the view from the cliff. Amid the grass and undergrowth, among thousands of different trees below, you see a number of roads that curve and wind. Up on a ridge on the left you see the familiar path eventually connect to the bridge, but then its view is lost by trees. To your right you see the path that goes straight down; it looks treacherous, full of ruts, roots, and rocks waiting for you to slip on them.
Straight below you hear water. A narrow stream flows roughly 20 feet out from the shade of the cliff. You hear movement from within the thick foilage near the running water. In the dim light you see a figure step out from the trees and approach the stream.
The figure is clothed from head to toe in dark blue or black material, you cannot tell which from this distance, and stands as if waiting impatiently. A minute passes and two men, one portly and the other skinny, both dressed in black, rush out of the trees; they bring with them a blonde lady in a pink dress. The lady struggles to get free but they have her arms held behind her.
The figure in the blue robe looks at her; he is a head taller than his minions. He takes from his robes something shiny; it looks like a pipe or a tube but you cannot be sure. The figure in blue puts the object to his mouth, you hear faint music, and and then returns it to his robes. Something starts to happen to the ground beneath the woman’s feet, as if she were suddenly standing on a rock in a body of water; the leaves all around her ripple toward her. The thugs release her and, with their boss, take a few steps back. Something is coming.
The figure must have summoned something with the shiny object; your conscience tells you that the woman is doomed if this event is not stopped; but how?
A slimy, redish brown hand reaches up from the surface of leaves and reaches for the woman’s dress…. You get out your binoculars to get a closer look when some gravel slips from under your feet. A rock falls from your cliff and hits the shore of the stream….as if startled, the hand shrinks back into the leaves; the splash might as well have been a bull horn. You shrink back in hopes that they do not see you, but they already know they’re being watched.
The figure turns his head toward you. The thugs make to go toward you when the figure in blue stops them; instead they watch and wait. He removes the hood from his head, revealing a bald, dark skinned man with a Y tatoo below his left eye, and stalks toward the cliff, crossing the stream. He looks up; he is at a point where you can see his face but his body is seemingly swallowed up by the cliff.
“Come out, visitor, and tell us what you have seen,” shouts the man in blue, “Come on your own and we will not harm you….”
**This is where trails are mixed and paths are weaved, Now is the place where a Choice is concieved. **