text: > look around
  The Dim Recesses of the Forest (Jacqueline A. Lott Ashwell)
  Branches scramble overhead, straining toward one another in a bid to blot out the sky. Mercifully, light manages to filter down through an opening in the canopy above a small pond. Paths slither away into the forest to the north, southwest, and southeast.
  
  > Swim
  You consider the ominously inky water, and, considering yourself sane, decide against entering the pond voluntarily.
  
  A flurry of dead leaves goes skittering along the ground, swirling past you in the wind.
  
  > examine the canopy
  You gaze up. Were it not for the pond, you get the feeling these branches would weave themselves together to plunge these woods into near-total darkness.
  
  For a moment, the wind dies down. Leaves on the ground come to rest.
  
  > look at the leaves
  Leaves are everywhere. Some float, withered and aimless on the surface of the black water, the rest carpet the forest floor.
  
  > count them
  You feel a bizarre compulsion to count the leaves.
  
  One... two... three...
  
  ...there are 69,105 of them. Give or take a few.
  
  While counting the leaves, you appear to have revealed a flat stone.
  
  > examine the stone
  A flat stone with rounded edges. You eye the surface of the pond speculatively.
  
  The wind momentarily stirs up a pile of leaves.
  
  > get it
  Taken.
  
  Somewhere in the distance, you hear a mourning dove's plaintive song. From above, a leaf floats slowly toward the ground.
  
  > Skip stone
  You weigh the flat stone in the palm of your hand for a moment or two, then decide to see if you can make it skip across the pond: you wind your arm back and fling the rock at an angle near-parallel to the water. It skips once... twice... three... four five six seven times, then disappears from view. You enjoy a brief feeling of accomplishment.
  
  All of the sudden, the forest goes quiet. Completely quiet.
  No wind, no doves, no sound at all.
  
  You are frozen in the stillness, too scared to move.
  
  > wait a while
  The unsettling silence continues. It's almost as if the forest is waiting for something to ... to happen.
  
  From the pond, a slimy ivory tentacle emerges, feeling its way toward you through the dead leaves.
  
  You are transfixed, and powerless with fear.
  
  > wait a while
  It is as if you are observing from outside your own body: you watch as the eburnean appendage begins wrapping itself slowly around your ankle.
  
  Suddenly, you are back inside your skin, and feel yourself being dragged toward the pond! You kick at the clammy white arm with your free foot, and desperately dig your fingers into the earth in an attempt to prevent the inevitable.
  
  The surface of the once-placid pond now churns violently.
  
  > hit the tentacle
  To your horror, you are pulled beneath the surface!
  
  All is dark. All is still. An unearthly calm consumes you. You cannot breathe, but you do not seem to care. You blink, unable to make out any shapes in the black water.
  
  Then, from the depths, an ivory shape emerges: a many-tentacled creature. The cephalopod floats toward you, coming eye to eye, and you sense something... maybe sadness?...
  
  > ask the creature about the pond
  Gently, two white tentacles place a delicate silver chain around your neck. Before you have time to express surprise or gratitude, the pond kraken carries you to shore. You inhale, thankful for the air, and turn back toward the pond just in time to see the last of the creature slip back beneath the surface.
  
  > examine the chain
  The locket and chain are silver, surprisingly untouched by the murky depths from which they came. The front of the locket bears a tiny embossed likeness of a kraken. The initials E.C. are engraved
  on its back.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  an antique locket (being worn and closed)
  The Dollmaker's Journal
  a repaired page
  a trolley schedule
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Twin Hearts Between the Planes
  a pamphlet of home listings
  a Jansport backpack (being worn and open)
  a hidden pocket (open but empty)
  a key pocket (open but empty)
  a book pocket (open)
  a postcard of Big Ben
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three
  a side pocket (open but empty)
  a trash pocket (open but empty)
  a backpack features guide
  a book list
  a library card
  Peter's jacket
  a faint chill (haunting you)
  a cast iron spire
  a waterproof flashlight
  a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask)
  a pull-string doll
  a glass jar containing an insect
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a familiar gold wristwatch
  a brass winding key
  
  > About yourself
  As good-looking as ever.
  
  You bear the trauma of a woman who has been eye to eye with an eburnean pond kraken.
  
  The wind picks up again for a moment, and a few leaves fall from above. One of the leaves settles in your hair. You disentangle the leaf and toss it to the ground.
  
  > open the locket
  You open the antique locket, revealing a tintype.
  
  The wind comes from a new direction. The skeletons of dead leaves scratch against one another.
  
  > look at the tintype
  A portrait of a young but stern-looking woman with dark locks and darker eyes has been placed within the locket. The photograph is, to your amazement, dry and in good nick, despite how it came to be in your possession. You idly wonder if there's anything hidden behind it.
  
  > get it
  As you handle the photo, you notice something on its reverse. The handwriting is so small! You marvel at the clarity of the feminine script, which you are just able to make out. It reads:
  
  To my Eliakim,
  Eburnean Alderman of
  the Variegated Court.
  I would follow thee
  to the depths of Hell.
  - Faythe
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You are carrying:
  a tintype
  an antique locket (being worn and open but empty)
  The Dollmaker's Journal
  a repaired page
  a trolley schedule
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Twin Hearts Between the Planes
  a pamphlet of home listings
  a Jansport backpack (being worn and open)
  a hidden pocket (open but empty)
  a key pocket (open but empty)
  a book pocket (open)
  a postcard of Big Ben
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three
  a side pocket (open but empty)
  a trash pocket (open but empty)
  a backpack features guide
  a book list
  a library card
  Peter's jacket
  a faint chill (haunting you)
  a cast iron spire
  a waterproof flashlight
  a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask)
  a pull-string doll
  a glass jar containing an insect
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a familiar gold wristwatch
  a brass winding key
  
  > Close locket
  You close the antique locket.
  
  > Search leaves
  You feel no need to collect any leaves, but you poke at them with your foot, uncovering a flat stone.
  
  For a moment, the wind dies down. Leaves on the ground come to rest.
  
  > take the stone
  It reminds you of the stone you skipped across the pond, awakening a long-dormant horror. You cannot bring yourself to touch it.
  
  > Skip stone
  There is absolutely no fucking way you will try skipping stones again. Ever.