Caves or Rivers

Walking a little past the house and shed, the path ends at a trampled clearing where the ground splits in two directions.

To the north, the land rises into a rocky slope. A dark cave yawns in the hillside, breathing out cold, stale air. Faint metallic glimmers flicker in the shadows within, then vanish. The silence there feels listened to.

To the east, the ground dips toward the sound of moving water. A slow river winds through the trees, its surface dull and black. You can just make out a warped wooden bridge spanning the narrowest part, half-swallowed by moss and shadow.

The air here is heavy with unease. Both paths look traveled… and neither looks welcoming.