Your mom has always said you were a talkative kid, and this time it’s no different. “I am lost,” you answer simply. “You wouldn’t happen to know a way back, would you?”
“That depends on where you’re trying to get back to. There are a great many places you can find from these woods.”
You were afraid of that. Ever since you arrived, you’ve had this feeling that any choice you make inside these woods will take you in a very strange direction.
“I’d like to go home. I was on my street, walking to the park when this path opened up,” you explain.
“Ahh, then I think I know where you’re trying to go,” the chipmunk says.
You sigh with relief, but there’s one more choice to make.
“Follow me,” calls the chipmunk as he steps off the stones and heads toward a foreboding opening.
OR