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Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Each step, on the winding trail, took us deeper into the dark and mysterious forest. We heard the scrambling of feet, first to the right, than to the left. We turned and saw nothing. Again, this time behind us. Were we being followed or stalked? Seeing nothing, we stopped and listened. “Over there,” she said. I still see nothing. “Where?” “There under the brush.” She points. I see it, so camouflaged in thicket, I strain my eyes to see.