The path was no more treacherous than it had ever been. Wooden fences blocked off dips in the landscape, and signs marks dangerous expanses of swampland, or abandoned sections of the wood that had become overridden by beastly creatures. Oswald's path was simple, forward, and without pause. He made his way forward, up until the point where the trees grew so closely to one another, that their roots were entangles and their leaves suffered from a lack of nourishment. If they were not so tightly packed, sun would've shone through relentlessly.

	Unbeknownst to him, somebody took advantage of this covering to sneak up on Oswald. He was walking for several minutes, unable to skew off the tightly surrounded pathway. But every time there was suspicion, the stalker dove into the trees like a termite. It wasn't a quiet sound, and Oswald would hear the scampering of something particularly large from behind. Somebody was following him.

	The path eventually became far too over-grown to follow, but the trees were still thick. There was a small shard of wood embedded in the ground, surrounded by splinters that lay scattered across the grass. It read '-nger' just barely legible, and faded to a dull blue.

	"Oswald!" A familiar voice shouted from behind, "It really is you!"

	It was a shorter man, who looked to be in his mid-late 40's. Oz might have recognized him at Fredrick, or much rather, [i]Freddie[/i], the head woodsman. Well, the [i]previous[/i] head woodsman, who lead many expeditions into the forest before the paths were even [i]built.[/i] He looked much older, and wore the same work uniform as every other wood-cutter, albeit worn and torn, covered in stains, and a few sizes too large. Freddy smiles and opened his arms, approaching slowly. It was a strange meeting.

	Especially since Freddie had been announced dead for over 15 years.