text: [Themes: Slice of life, Fantasy, animal NPC, slice of life]
  
  > enter the cave
  You squeeze behind the boulder and crawl inside.
  
  You are in a dark pocket, a stony crack below the summit of the hill. It is not quite high enough to stand in, but surprisingly long, narrowing only slowly towards the back. The entrance is a circle of blinding crimson to the west, partially obscured by the boulder.
  
  An ancient and filthy blanket is crumpled against one wall of the cave.
  
  You glance outside. The moment is gone. The sun has set, although the clouds are still well-lit.
  
  > look at the blanket
  It's a ratty old blanket, torn and mouse-chewed, tangled with bits of twig and old leaves. Nonetheless, it looks warm.
  
  > take the blanket
  Taken.
  
  > go to the east
  The cave narrows to a crack in back; you really can't go very far.
  
  > Go outside
  You crawl out.
  
  You are high on the hill; it rolls downward and off to the west. Beyond the trees and brush, meadows fade in the last light. Behind you stands the last stony lump of hill. A narrow trail curves away to the northwest.
  
  A boulder is lying at the base of the hilltop, prised up out of the hole it was in. The boulder is resting on a spade blade. There's just enough room to squeeze into the cave behind it.
  
  The sky is dimming, and a mist is rolling in, under the clouds.
  
  > drop the blanket
  Dropped.
  
  You glance outside. The sky is dimming, and a mist is rolling in, under the clouds.
  
  > Leave
  You crawl out.
  
  You are high on the hill; it rolls downward and off to the west. Beyond the trees and brush, meadows fade in the mist. Behind you stands the last stony lump of hill. A narrow trail curves away to the northwest.
  
  A boulder is lying at the base of the hilltop, prised up out of the hole it was in. The boulder is resting on a spade blade. There's just enough room to squeeze into the cave behind it.
  
  The fox appears on a nearby rock.
  
  The fox darts at something in the undergrowth.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying a blanket, a broken spade shaft and a battered tin bucket.
  
  You glance outside. The sky is dimming, and a mist is rolling in, under the clouds.
  
  > wait a while
  Time passes.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying a blanket, a broken spade shaft and a battered tin bucket.
  
  > exit
  You crawl out.
  
  You are high on the hill; it rolls downward and off to the west. Beyond the trees and brush, meadows fade in the last light. Behind you stands the last stony lump of hill. A narrow trail curves away to the northwest.
  
  A boulder is lying at the base of the hilltop, prised up out of the hole it was in. The boulder is resting on a spade blade. There's just enough room to squeeze into the cave behind it.
  
  > go northwest
  The trail turns west as it descends.
  
  A wide angular tongue juts out from the hillside. The park stretches off to the north and west, a vast expanse of dimming meadowland, patched with dark woods and stitched with dark streams. In the distance, a lake glows pale in the last light of the sky.
  
  A trail leads southwest down the hill, towards the bridge. From where you stand, it turns southeast and continues upward, deeply cut into the hillside. A narrower trail leads more steeply up to the east.
  
  Someone has dug a trench here, from the path out over the bank.
  
  The sky is dimming, and a mist is rolling in, under the clouds.
  
  The fox appears beside a clump of weeds.
  
  The fox chases around your feet for a moment. It seems to be watching something you hold.
  
  > go to the southwest
  A slope descends to the noisy stream to the west. The old wooden bridge which spans it leans comfortably against the bank at your feet. To the east rises the flank of the hill, a dark shape in the twilight; two usable trails lead up around it, to the south and the northeast.
  
  The fox appears on a nearby rock.
  
  > go south
  Elsewhere in the park, flowers lie in hollows and peek out from under the brush. Here you have found a profusion of them. Sprays of white and blue lie everywhere; the vines ripple yellow, although the blooms are closing for the night.
  
  Beyond a slight rise to the west, the ground drops precipitously to the stream. A trail leads northward towards the bridge; another heads steeply up to the east, and a third curves around the hill to the southeast.
  
  > Go west
  Beyond the rise, the hill drops almost straight down to the stream.
  
  > jump
  You jump on the spot, fruitlessly.
  
  > Go east
  The trail turns northeast as it climbs.
  
  You're standing on a ledge, on a rather steep, overgrown hillface. Mist hides the stream below and the hilltop above, but the meadows and clouds beyond sweep away into the west.
  
  Trails angle down to the northwest and southwest. Another crosses the hill to the south, but a chunk is washed out, too wide to jump across.
  
  A bush is growing out of a crack in the hillside, to the south. It's right in the gap in the southern path.
  
  Among the hill's brush and scraggly trees, the tree that stands here stands alone. You might be able to get your arms around it, and you might not; it must reach nearly as high as the hilltop itself.
  
  > Go west
  The hill is too steep and overgrown to descend.
  
  > go southwest
  The trail turns west as it descends.
  
  Elsewhere in the park, flowers lie in hollows and peek out from under the brush. Here you have found a profusion of them. Sprays of white and blue lie everywhere; the vines ripple yellow, although the blooms are closing for the night.
  
  Beyond a slight rise to the west, the ground drops precipitously to the stream. A trail leads northward towards the bridge; another heads steeply up to the east, and a third curves around the hill to the southeast.
  
  > go to the southeast
  You have barely left sight of the wildflowers when the trail ends. It looks like it was washed out; and the scree that covers the hill face is much too unstable to venture across. You have no choice but to return.
  
  > Go east
  The trail turns northeast as it climbs.
  
  You're standing on a ledge, on a rather steep, overgrown hillface. Mist hides the stream below and the hilltop above, but the meadows and clouds beyond sweep away into the west.
  
  Trails angle down to the northwest and southwest. Another crosses the hill to the south, but a chunk is washed out, too wide to jump across.
  
  A bush is growing out of a crack in the hillside, to the south. It's right in the gap in the southern path.
  
  Among the hill's brush and scraggly trees, the tree that stands here stands alone. You might be able to get your arms around it, and you might not; it must reach nearly as high as the hilltop itself.
  
  The mist is turning to a drizzle of rain.
  
  The blanket is getting damp.
  
  > Go south
  You stretch a foot towards the bush, shift your weight, and take two quick steps. The bush trembles but holds.
  
  You are in a dense tangle of shadow, bushes, and small trees. The ground falls away to the southeast, to the misty meadows below.
  
  A trail curves down to the southwest. Another cuts along the hill to the north, but a chunk is washed out, too wide to jump across.
  
  A bush is growing out of a crack in the hillside, to the north. It's right in the gap in the northern path.
  
  An old shed stands just to the east. It's weathered but sturdy, still wearing the tatters of a coat of white paint. The door is closed.
  
  > Go east
  The door to the shed is closed. You tug on it and rattle the latch, but it's locked, and the lock looks hopelessly rusted.
  
  The blanket is getting damp.
  
  > Go north
  You stretch a foot towards the bush, shift your weight, and take two quick steps. The bush trembles but holds.
  
  You're standing on a ledge, on a rather steep, overgrown hillface. Mist hides the stream below and the hilltop above, but the meadows and clouds beyond sweep away into the west.
  
  Trails angle down to the northwest and southwest. Another crosses the hill to the south, but a chunk is washed out, too wide to jump across.
  
  A bush is growing out of a crack in the hillside, to the south. It's right in the gap in the southern path.
  
  Among the hill's brush and scraggly trees, the tree that stands here stands alone. You might be able to get your arms around it, and you might not; it must reach nearly as high as the hilltop itself.
  
  > Go northwest
  A wide angular tongue juts out from the hillside. The park stretches off to the north and west, a vast expanse of dark meadowland, barely visible in the thickening mist.
  
  A trail leads southwest down the hill, towards the bridge. From where you stand, it turns southeast and continues upward, deeply cut into the hillside. A narrower trail leads more steeply up to the east.
  
  Someone has dug a trench here, from the path out over the bank.
  
  The blanket is getting damp.
  
  > go east
  The trail turns southeast as it climbs.
  
  You are high on the hill; it rolls downward and off to the west. Beyond the trees and brush, meadows fade in the mist and rain. Behind you stands the last stony lump of hill. A narrow trail curves away to the northwest.
  
  A boulder is lying at the base of the hilltop, prised up out of the hole it was in. The boulder is resting on a spade blade. There's just enough room to squeeze into the cave behind it.
  
  > enter the cave
  You squeeze behind the boulder and crawl inside.
  
  You are in a dark pocket, a stony crack below the summit of the hill. It is not quite high enough to stand in, but surprisingly long, narrowing only slowly towards the back. The entrance is a lit circle of grey to the west, partially obscured by the boulder.
  
  You glance outside. It's dark and it's raining.
  
  > Sleep
  You wrap yourself snugly in the blanket and curl up on the floor. It's hard, but you're dry and warm. What else could you ask for? Your eyes close and the cave drifts away...
  
  [Hit any key.]
  Stone dissolves around you as move up and forwards, into a grainy grey light. A mindless roar stretches in all directions; but it is troubled by a distant murmur. The new sound swells, whispering, pounding, then shouting at you, and you cannot make it out and you cannot make it go --
  
  Something awakens you.
  
  You are in a dark pocket, a stony crack below the summit of the hill. It is not quite high enough to stand in, but surprisingly long, narrowing only slowly towards the back. The entrance is a dim circle of grey to the west, partially obscured by the boulder.
  
  The voices are still audible. They surge and swell, on the edge of audibility, somewhere to the west. You are almost certain you hear your name being called.
  
  > listen
  A sussurus of voices comes from the west, too faint to make out but too loud to ignore. You are almost certain you hear your name, though, and something in you moves to respond.
  
  > go outside
  You crawl out. The rain lashes your face.
  
  You are high on the hill; it rolls downward and off to the west. Beyond the trees and brush, the world is cloaked in dark rain, and scarred with distant lightning. Behind you stands the last stony lump of hill. A narrow trail curves away to the northwest.
  
  A boulder is lying at the base of the hilltop, prised up out of the hole it was in. The boulder is resting on a spade blade. There's just enough room to squeeze into the cave behind it.
  
  The blanket has gotten quite soaked.
  
  The voices surge, then fade.
  
  > listen
  A sussurus of voices comes from the west, too faint to make out but too loud to ignore. You are almost certain you hear your name, though, and something in you moves to respond.
  
  A no-time, eternal instant of light lances through you, snapping your mind to silence. A moment later the silence is broken by a
  
  Crack!
  
  of thunder.
  
  Afterimages hang around you in a greenish glare. You blink furiously, trying to sort out the shadows from what's really there.
  
  > go northwest
  The trail turns west as it descends.
  
  A wide angular tongue juts out from the hillside. A black expanse stretches to the north and west, impenetrable with rain. Every few moments, a directionless flicker of lightning tries to pull detail from the darkness; but there is only mist.
  
  A trail leads southwest down the hill, towards the bridge. From where you stand, it turns southeast and continues upward, deeply cut into the hillside. A narrower trail leads more steeply up to the east.
  
  A stream of runoff water is flowing down from the southeast, and pouring down the trench to the unseen stream below.
  
  Someone has dug a trench here, from the path out over the bank.
  
  The afterimages evaporate into a black dazzle.
  
  > Go southwest
  A slope descends to the noisy stream to the west. The old wooden bridge which spans it leans uncertainly against the bank at your feet. To the east rises the flank of the hill, a black shape made of night and rain; two usable trails lead up around it, to the south and the northeast.
  
  The voices surge, and you realize the sounds comes from the west, from the other side of the stream. And they are coming closer. You are very sure, suddenly, that you do not want them to reach you.
  
  > Go west
  The thought of crossing into that darkness, with its inhabitants, is beyond bearing.
  
  > Shout
  Whom do you want to shout that to?
  
  > go northeast
  A wide angular tongue juts out from the hillside. A black expanse stretches to the north and west, impenetrable with rain. Every few moments, a directionless flicker of lightning tries to pull detail from the darkness; but there is only mist.
  
  A trail leads southwest down the hill, towards the bridge. From where you stand, it turns southeast and continues upward, deeply cut into the hillside. A narrower trail leads more steeply up to the east.
  
  A stream of runoff water is flowing down from the southeast, and pouring down the trench to the unseen stream below.
  
  Someone has dug a trench here, from the path out over the bank.
  
  > go to the southeast
  You're standing on a ledge, on a rather steep, overgrown hillface. Rain hides the stream below and the hilltop above, and to the west is only dark.
  
  Trails angle down to the northwest and southwest. Another crosses the hill to the south, but a chunk is washed out, too wide to jump across.
  
  A bush is growing out of a crack in the hillside, to the south. It's right in the gap in the southern path.
  
  Runoff water is flowing down the hillside here. It puddles on the ledge, and streams down the northwest path.
  
  Among the hill's brush and scraggly trees, the tree that stands here stands alone. You might be able to get your arms around it, and you might not; it must reach nearly as high as the hilltop itself.
  
  > Go south
  You stretch a foot towards the bush, shift your weight, and take two quick steps. The bush trembles but holds.
  
  You are in a dense tangle of shadow, bushes, and small trees. The ground falls away to the southeast, into darkness and rain.
  
  A trail curves down to the southwest. Another cuts along the hill to the north, but a chunk is washed out, too wide to jump across.
  
  A bush is growing out of a crack in the hillside, to the north. It's right in the gap in the northern path.
  
  An old shed stands just to the east. It's weathered but sturdy, still wearing the tatters of a coat of white paint. The door is closed.
  
  A no-time, eternal instant of light lances through you, snapping your mind to silence. A moment later the silence is broken by a
  
  Crack!
  
  of thunder.
  
  Afterimages hang around you in a greenish glare. You blink furiously, trying to sort out the shadows from what's really there.
  
  The voices surge, then fade.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying a blanket, a broken spade shaft and a battered tin bucket.
  
  The afterimages evaporate into a black dazzle.
  
  > go to the north
  You stretch a foot towards the bush, shift your weight, and take two quick steps. The bush trembles but holds.
  
  You're standing on a ledge, on a rather steep, overgrown hillface. Rain hides the stream below and the hilltop above, and to the west is only dark.
  
  Trails angle down to the northwest and southwest. Another crosses the hill to the south, but a chunk is washed out, too wide to jump across.
  
  A bush is growing out of a crack in the hillside, to the south. It's right in the gap in the southern path.
  
  Runoff water is flowing down the hillside here. It puddles on the ledge, and streams down the northwest path.
  
  Among the hill's brush and scraggly trees, the tree that stands here stands alone. You might be able to get your arms around it, and you might not; it must reach nearly as high as the hilltop itself.
  
  A no-time, eternal instant of light lances through you, snapping your mind to silence. Simultaneously the silence is broken by a
  
  Crack!
  
  of thunder. It is echoed by a splintering concussion right above your head, or, from the feel of it, just inside.
  
  You watch the tree topple through blobs of dull color.
  
  Afterimages hang around you in a greenish glare. You blink furiously, trying to sort out the shadows from what's really there.
  
  The runoff water is backing up behind the fallen tree.
  
  You pick yourself up shakily, although you can't quite remember falling. The air is full of smoke.
  
  > Go southwest
  The trail turns west as it descends.
  
  A profusion of flowers lie here, mostly furled against the rain. Edges of white and blue and yellow barely show in the darkness.
  
  Beyond a slight rise to the west, the ground drops precipitously to the stream. A trail leads northward towards the bridge; another heads steeply up to the east, and a third curves around the hill to the southeast.
  
  The afterimages evaporate into a black dazzle.
  
  The voices surge, then fade.
  
  > look at the tree
  The tree has fallen downslope, across the path, and is lying awkwardly in the undergrowth. The upper end -- which is to say, the lower end -- is blackened and split.
  
  The runoff water begins to spill out from behind the tree, down the southwest path.
  
  The afterimages evaporate into a black dazzle.
  
  The voices surge, then fade.
  
  > fill the bucket
  You fill the bucket with water.
  
  > Go south
  You stretch a foot towards the bush, shift your weight, and take two quick steps. The bush trembles but holds.
  
  You are in a dense tangle of shadow, bushes, and small trees. The ground falls away to the southeast, into darkness and rain.
  
  A trail curves down to the southwest. Another cuts along the hill to the north, but a chunk is washed out, too wide to jump across.
  
  A bush is growing out of a crack in the hillside, to the north. It's right in the gap in the northern path.
  
  An old shed stands just to the east. It's weathered but sturdy, still wearing the tatters of a coat of white paint. The door is closed.
  
  > pour the water on the lock
  The water splashes over the old shed and dribbles away.
  
  The voices surge, then fade.
  
  > hit the lock
  It may be weathered, but it's not weakened. You can't even shake it.
  
  From somewhere below, you hear a terrible
  
  Crack!
  
  You know without seeing that the bridge has been destroyed. You begin to rush downhill, but the trail seems to stretch and time takes on the weight of nightmare...
  
  [Hit any key.]
  You awaken in the cave, sore and cold, bathed in the listless light of an overcast dawn. By the time you wade across the swollen stream, you're as soaked and miserable as if you'd slept out in the rain after all. You reach civilization exhausted and with what promises to be a lovely cough.
  
  > go south
  Elsewhere in the park, flowers lie in hollows and peek out from under the brush. Here you have found a profusion of them. Sprays of white and blue lie everywhere; the vines ripple yellow.
  
  Beyond a slight rise to the west, the ground drops precipitously to the stream. A trail leads northward towards the bridge; another heads steeply up to the east, and a third curves around the hill to the southeast.
  
  A glint in a nearby bush looks more metallic than floral.
  
  > get the glint
  (It turns out to be a battered old tin bucket.) Taken.
  
  > fill the bucket
  You fill the bucket with water.
  
  > go to the northeast
  A wide angular tongue juts out from the hillside. The park stretches off to the north and west, a vast expanse of bright meadowland, patched with dark woods and stitched with streams that glitter in the sunlight. In the distance, a lake reflects white fire from the setting sun.
  
  A trail leads southwest down the hill, towards the bridge. From where you stand, it turns southeast and continues upward, deeply cut into the hillside. A narrower trail leads more steeply up to the east.
  
  Someone has dug a trench here, from the path out over the bank. Abandoned in the mud near it is a spade. You figure someone was using the spade to dig the trench, and you can also figure why he stopped; the shaft is broken off about two feet up from the blade. The handle end is nowhere in sight.
  
  The sun is lazily approaching the horizon.
  
  You catch a pair of dark eyes in the edge of your vision; then they are gone.
  
  > pour the water on the spade
  You splash the water around the spade. The mud absorbs it greedily.
  
  From within some tall grass, you notice a pair of dark eyes. The grass blinks, and then it is a small, orange fox who watches you solemnly.
  
  > Go east
  The trail turns southeast as it climbs.
  
  You are high on the hill; it rolls downward and off to the west. Beyond the trees and brush, meadows glow in the thickening sunlight. Behind you stands the last stony lump of hill. A narrow trail curves away to the northwest.
  
  A boulder is half-buried at the base of the hilltop.
  
  > Wedge blade under rock
  You notice a cave of some sort behind the boulder. (Who would have guessed?)
  
  You push the spade under the boulder, kick the blade to settle it, and lean on the shaft. Nothing happens for a moment, and you're leaning harder, and the boulder starts to move, and
  
  Crack!
  
  The spade's shaft has broken off in your hands, right above the blade, which is now caught under the boulder. On the other hand, you've moved the boulder up out of its hole; it's balanced on the rim.
  
  > go southeast
  You're standing on a ledge, on a rather steep, overgrown hillface. Greenery hides the stream below and the hilltop above, but the meadows and sky beyond sweep away endlessly to the west.
  
  Trails angle down to the northwest and southwest. Another crosses the hill to the south, but a chunk is washed out, too wide to jump across.
  
  A bush is growing out of a crack in the hillside, to the south. It's right in the gap in the southern path. You could probably use it to get across. (One of those little coincidences that makes your life a little nicer.)
  
  Among the hill's brush and scraggly trees, the tree that stands here stands alone. You might be able to get your arms around it, and you might not; it must reach nearly as high as the hilltop itself.
  
  You catch a pair of dark eyes in the edge of your vision; then they are gone.
  
  > Go south
  You heft the broken spade, considering your balance. You stretch a foot towards the bush, shift your weight, and take two quick steps. The bush trembles but holds.
  
  You are in a dense tangle of bushes and small trees. The ground falls away to the southeast, to the meadows below; you can see a lake far to the west.
  
  A trail curves down to the southwest. Another cuts along the hill to the north, but a chunk is washed out, too wide to jump across.
  
  A bush is growing out of a crack in the hillside, to the north. It's right in the gap in the northern path.
  
  An old shed stands just to the east. It's weathered but sturdy, still wearing the tatters of a coat of white paint. The door is closed.
  
  > hit the lock
  It may be weathered, but it's not weakened. You can't even shake it.
  
  > break the lock
  It may be weathered, but it's not weakened. You can't even shake it.
  
  The sun is settling to the horizon, amid a scattering of clouds which have begun to drift in.
  
  > Dig
  What do you want to dig in?
  
  > go to the north
  You heft the broken spade, considering your balance. You stretch a foot towards the bush, shift your weight, and take two quick steps. The bush trembles but holds.
  
  You're standing on a ledge, on a rather steep, overgrown hillface. Greenery hides the stream below and the hilltop above, but the meadows and sky beyond sweep away endlessly to the west.
  
  Trails angle down to the northwest and southwest. Another crosses the hill to the south, but a chunk is washed out, too wide to jump across.
  
  A bush is growing out of a crack in the hillside, to the south. It's right in the gap in the southern path.
  
  Among the hill's brush and scraggly trees, the tree that stands here stands alone. You might be able to get your arms around it, and you might not; it must reach nearly as high as the hilltop itself.
  
  The fox appears beside a clump of weeds.
  
  > Go southwest
  The trail turns west as it descends.
  
  Elsewhere in the park, flowers lie in hollows and peek out from under the brush. Here you have found a profusion of them. Sprays of white and blue lie everywhere; the vines ripple yellow.
  
  Beyond a slight rise to the west, the ground drops precipitously to the stream. A trail leads northward towards the bridge; another heads steeply up to the east, and a third curves around the hill to the southeast.
  
  The sun is settling to the horizon, amid a scattering of clouds which have begun to drift in.
  
  > Go north
  A slope descends to the noisy stream to the west. The old wooden bridge which spans it leans comfortably against the bank at your feet. To the east rises the flank of the hill, shining in the afternoon sunlight; two usable trails lead up around it, to the south and the northeast.