Crystalo and I reach a spot where three trails converge into one.
“The Stampede has passed, Crystalo remarks,” “But these three trails, this is a strange Fork in the Trail.”
I grin and reach up to a tree branch and pull down a bag tied to the limb. I pull out a wooden fork, “Actually, this is why we call it the Fork in the Trail.”
“How is that?” Crystalo aksks, confusedly.
I shjrug, suppose you are out hunting, fishing, or doing something out back here and when you got hungry, one was to discover that you’d forgotten your eating utensil. You’d have to skip you4r can of baked beans.”
“But wouldn’t that be something silly?” Crystalo asks, “In the middle of nowhere out back here?”
I shrug, “It happens more often than you would think.”
Crystalo decides, “Well we are at the Fork in the Trail, and Mister Greg told us to wait right here.”
And see what fun tramples us this time,” I comment.