The explorer looked down at his shoe covered in a strange goo.  “I thought this place was supposed to be like Kew Gardens,” he said with distaste as he tried to shake it from his foot.  He began to rummage inside his jacket pocket, pulled out a fork, and scratched his head as he held it aloft.  The second time he produced a whistle, which he blew, much to his companions’ annoyance.

One final delve and he produced a sheet of paper.  “Here it is!  The map!”  he said with reassuring smile.

One companion shook his head, the other plastered a hand over his eyes. They both sighed in unison.

The blinding white of snow obscured her vision of the way ahead. A branch of a mountain pine whipped across her uncovered face. The trickle of blood flowed rapidly into her eye before slowing and freezing into a dark red line that marked her forehead. If she believed in God, she would have uttered his name in crude commentary.

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