Dear Trillium.

The path to the left of the split was craggy and as unforgiving as ones mother in law. It seemed though that this path was not one to salvation, but one that an individual would take when exiled. The grass and shrubs wilt here like one would when on the brink of starvation, but still remain to service as a guide so one does not lose their balance on the loose edge of the cliff. You can see the slumbering giants off in the distance well from the end of the path, a jump that follows after the end to the battering waves and rocks below, a gaping maw to inhale those who made the leap. Perhaps the path to exile was a path that that lead to recreation, but in a petrified state of unconsciousness forever to be held captive as a slumbering giant within a legs distance of their past brethren.