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You decide to follow the footprints, stumbling after them in the thin light. The track is faded and worn,
a good sign
, you think. Don’t
most people stick to the path? The kids can’t be much different. You continue along your way until you see a hint of orange in a
distant clearing. Your feet seem to turn on their own accord, and they betray you by taking you further down the path. You arrive in a
cheerful tent city, built around a humble fireplace. Happy faces bathed in the warm light, a group of campers sit. They talk, laugh and
sing, and you watch them from the shadows. One man sees you and points, and the friendly light of the fire along with the now
inviting crowd beckon to you. You draw closer and sit beside a tie-dyed, tanned girl a few years younger than you. The silence of the
surrounding night and the atmosphere created by the group are enchanting. The girl on your other side turns to you and hands you a
chilled bottle, while shouting a greeting above the addictive music. You return the smile, and take the bottle. Its contents smell
incredible. You take a sip, and another, then sit up and beam. You stop the thoughts running around in your head and you turn a
blind eye to the task you were so earnestly persisting at. The kids don’t
really
need you. It will be okay! You’ll search for them
tomorrow, when the sun is shining down. For now, you need a break. A long,
long
break.
Go back page 4 to Try Again
Feeling curious, you decide to follow the mysterious whistle. Were the children playing tricks on you, courtesy of the boys? Or was it
something more sinister? With footsteps light as a feather you follow the echoing whistles for a few hundred meters, the sound