Jonas was warily following a set of strange prints deeply set in the forest floor. Boot prints, he guessed, but nothing he’d ever seen before. And the pattern suggested that whoever made them must be drunk or dying. The trail was leading Jonas ever closer to the edge of the Howling Wood, an area expressly forbidden by the village elders, and, more importantly, his father. A moment of indecision overtook Jonas. Should he continue exploring this mystery and risk his life and the wrath of his father, or turn back and leave a possibly sick stranger to die? With his desire for adventure overriding his good sense, Jonas struck off after the tracks. Whatever was at the end, he hoped, would at least offset the trouble he was in.
The wood grew denser and darker as Jonas followed the trail.