text: [Themes: Fantasy, Slice of life, changing environment]
  
  > press space
  The picnic is going full blast, which is exactly why you've wandered away from it. It's not that you don't like your new companions; it's just that after weeks of spending each day around them, a noisy weekend cook-out isn't the way to relax. Some exploration -- on your own -- is an appealing thought.
  
  None of them noticed you drifting away, anyhow.
  
  Copyright 1995-6 by Andrew Plotkin. Please copy and play freely. (First-time players should type "about".)
  
  The grasses are fragrant under the sunshine of a late, late summer afternoon. A stream chatters by at your feet, and a weathered old wooden bridge stretches across it to the east. Beyond the stream, a scrubby hillside stretches upward.
  
  The shouts of the volleyball players and the boom-box thump are pleasantly far off to the west.
  I beg your pardon?
  
  > examine the stream
  It's not particularly deep, but it's spectacularly clear. Streaks of green trail along the stones at the stream's bottom, and you see the rare glint of a fish in the sunlight.
  
  > go west
  You turn your back on the hill, and consider the distant shapes of your companions. One of them waves hugely to you. You shrug, and begin jogging towards them.
  
  > examine the bridge
  A narrow span of weathered wood crosses the stream here. The boards are vaguely warped, and the handrails aren't quite connected each to the next, but it's held this long and you expect it will probably support you.
  
  > examine the sky
  The sun is sinking slowly in a clear blue sky. It's the end of a long, long summer afternoon.
  
  > cross the bridge
  The bridge creaks as you cross it, and sways a bit.
  
  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.
  
  > examine the stream
  It's not particularly deep, but it's spectacularly clear. Streaks of green trail along the stones at the stream's bottom, and you see the rare glint of a fish in the sunlight.
  
  The sun is lazily approaching the horizon.
  
  > 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 orange 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.
  
  > take the spade
  The broken spade is stuck in the dried mud. The shaft bends slightly; perhaps you can pull it free.
  
  > pull the spade
  You get a good grip on what's left of the shaft.
  
  Crack!
  
  The shaft has snapped off right where it joins the blade. The blade is left buried in the mud.
  
  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.
  
  The fox chases around your feet for a moment. It seems to be watching something you hold.
  
  > throw the stick
  The fox cocks its head as you wind up; it tenses to spring, and you hurl the stick far back into the undergrowth. With a yip the fox streaks after it.
  
  A moment later it's back, bushy tail high. It drops its prize at your feet.
  
  The fox chases around the spade shaft for a moment, then stops and stares at you to make sure you didn't see.
  
  > Pet fox
  Without seeming to move, the fox is out of your way.
  
  The sun is settling to the horizon, amid a scattering of clouds which have begun to drift in.
  
  > look at the sky
  A few bands of cloud are visible on the western horizon, lit by the reddening sun.
  
  The fox darts at something in the undergrowth.
  
  > take the stick
  Taken.
  
  The fox vanishes.
  
  > get the blade
  The spade blade is stuck in the dried mud.
  
  > dig mud
  The mud is dry and quite hard.
  
  > 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 sunlight, sweeping to the ribbons of color on the horizon. 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.
  
  The fox appears from behind the boulder.
  
  > look at boulder
  It's a roundish lump of rock -- about what you thought. Maybe two or two-and-a-half feet across.
  
  In the shadow behind the boulder, you notice an edge of deeper blackness. It's a cave of some sort.
  
  The western horizon has become a surging sea of gold and scarlet waves. The light is magical -- a cool bronze radiance that somehow makes the grass and foliage more intensely green than ever.
  
  The fox chases its tail furiously for a moment, then stops and stares at you to make sure you didn't see.
  
  > examine the cave
  You can only see a few inches of dark emptiness behind the boulder.
  
  The fox chases around your feet for a moment. It seems to be watching something you hold.
  
  > enter the cave
  There are only a few inches of space between the boulder and the cave mouth. You can't possibly squeeze through.
  
  > Pry boulder
  You grasp the boulder as best you can and heave -- fruitlessly. It's well sunk into the ground.
  
  The moment is gone. The sun has set, although the clouds are still well-lit.
  
  The fox vanishes.
  
  > pry the boulder with the stick
  The shaft is too thick to wedge under the boulder.
  
  > go to the northwest
  The trail turns west as it descends.
  
  Someone has dug a trench here, from the path out over the bank. Stuck in the mud near it is a spade blade.
  
  The fox appears beside a clump of weeds.
  
  > Go west
  The ground drops off, dangerously steeply, in that direction.