The Ranger felt about as low as he ever had. It was raining hard and he was soaked through and through. It was late autumn and he was cold to the bone. Miserable and crabby, he stood looking left and right at the two branches of this path he was on. The left path went West into a dark forest of pine while the Eastern branch ran off through a sub-alpine meadow and climbed up into the rocky lower slopes of a large mountain, the majority of which was shrouded in fog. He shifted the weight of his pack and switched his bow from his right to his left hand trying to decide which of these paths would be the easiest way to the next village.