It was raining heavily from the second Finn stepped through the cemetery gates, the air several degrees colder than it had been in Ashdown. He turned around, looking back towards the street and the bakery and his car, as if he needed confirmation that he’d crossed over. Sure enough, his Jeep was gone, the space where it had been slick with rain like it had never been there at all - and in this world, it hadn’t been.
Beyond that, the bakery window was dark, host to a pair of empty cake stands and nothing else, the gold lettering flaking off its windows.
Finn zipped his windbreaker against the rain, and raised his rainbow golf umbrella over his head, a bright beacon in the gloom. It wasn’t every day that such an obvious portal to the Otherworld opened right in front of him - some things just had to be investigated.
He kept to the road for now, scanning the orderly rows of gravestones but not getting too close - who was even buried here? Would it just be illegible copies of Ashdown’s markers, or…
He’d rather not find out.
hetzerei
”Alois Scholz,” he muttered to himself as the rain parted his hair into heavy chunks. A hand drew up to wipe the thick mess of it from his eyes and pin it back against scalp. “Born and died, but no kind words. Schade. At least they had the good sense to bury me next to my dog.” He gave pause to look about himself and tried calling fruitlessly for his shepherd again. “Schatzie? Komm!”
Yet nothing came but harder rains. Already he stood soaked to the bone; the day was clear not long before he entered the graveyard. And the graves stretched for miles here, much like they did back in Saarland. He walked, though he felt he covered just as much ground by standing still in a place like this. Where did that damn dog get off to? He was just waiting by the entrance, like someone told him to stay. What a useless pup. I’ll turn him into slippers the day he dies.
Alois was starting to feel it was assumptive, however, to think that he would leave this place. With his cell phone displaying illegible characters, Alois knew not how long he wandered, but the weariness in his legs spoke of hours. Each hill led to yet more gravestones, each tree marked little more than another long journey, and each great obelisk only touched the sky in pointless aggression. Nothing pointed toward the great gates that he passed through since he wandered thoughtlessly into the area.
He thought, then, that perhaps he would die here. And, maybe a little foolishly, the youth in him wondered if he already did. He considered the frightful fairytales wherein impossibilities like this did occur, and that he was subject to that very happening. Something killed him when he walked through those gates, and ever since, he’d been wandering dead around his gravestone.
After all, what other sense was there in seeing his own headstone?
Yet nothing came but harder rains. Already he stood soaked to the bone; the day was clear not long before he entered the graveyard. And the graves stretched for miles here, much like they did back in Saarland. He walked, though he felt he covered just as much ground by standing still in a place like this. Where did that damn dog get off to? He was just waiting by the entrance, like someone told him to stay. What a useless pup. I’ll turn him into slippers the day he dies.
Alois was starting to feel it was assumptive, however, to think that he would leave this place. With his cell phone displaying illegible characters, Alois knew not how long he wandered, but the weariness in his legs spoke of hours. Each hill led to yet more gravestones, each tree marked little more than another long journey, and each great obelisk only touched the sky in pointless aggression. Nothing pointed toward the great gates that he passed through since he wandered thoughtlessly into the area.
He thought, then, that perhaps he would die here. And, maybe a little foolishly, the youth in him wondered if he already did. He considered the frightful fairytales wherein impossibilities like this did occur, and that he was subject to that very happening. Something killed him when he walked through those gates, and ever since, he’d been wandering dead around his gravestone.
After all, what other sense was there in seeing his own headstone?
The rain pounded harder on Finn’s umbrella, and he held it a bit lower, his hair brushing the spokes. The clouds were low - they looked to be barely above the tops of the trees, though he knew that was ridiculous, they couldn’t be that low - and it made the graveyard seem larger somehow, as though the world beyond its borders didn’t exist, whether Ashdown or Otherworld.
He needed to stop being so imaginative. Morbid. Morbmaginative.
Finn scanned the hillside ahead of him, barely making out a lone human figure moving through the rain. Or - it looked human from this distance. It was possible he’d get closer and discover otherwise. He hadn’t met very many of the Otherworld’s residents, but he’d heard they existed, and that was enough to make him wary.
He stepped off the road, hiking boots squelching into the ever-present mud as he made his way up the hill. He wove his way between rows of tombstones, moving carefully because he didn’t want to step on a grave--
--And there, carved into the granite, was his own name. H. Finn Derouen.
He stopped and stared at it for a while.
“Huh,” said Finn.
He turned back towards the lone figure on the hill - they’d gotten farther away from him - and began walking again. “Hey,” called Finn. Maybe it was another visitor, he thought, and not a creature at all…? The rain was too heavy to get a good look…
Quote:
Alois glanced back toward the fog, where the trees rose up and outward like spikes on a wrought-iron fence. At first he thought he must’ve been calling to a friend, but in looking around, he saw no one else. “Who’re you?” His hawkish gaze turned back on the man. He looked like no client he’d had since moving here, and Alois would know if he met someone for more than thirty passing seconds.
Maybe he was out to bust Alois for trespassing. But weren’t graveyards open til the evening? “I’ve been trying to leave, but I just learned I’m s**t at directions. Are you the groundskeeper?” His accent came thick, especially in agitated circumstances, but he enunciated well enough. If this man really was the groundskeeper, then he’d have precedent to ask about the gravestones with Alois’ name on it. And what about his dogs? So much of this place didn’t add up - it was like he stepped into an alternate dimension.
Truthfully he felt almost glad to see another face. Almost - depending on how well this man reacted to him. He might wind up shooting Alois just out of fear and thoughtless reaction. Or, he could end up leading Alois out of this strange Twilight Zone episode he wandered into without incident, unite him with Tschambes and be happily on his way without expecting thanks or favors from Alois.
But, time would tell. And he didn’t have a lot of it, either - Alois was sick to the bones of being wet./quote]
Not an Otherthing, Finn realized, as the other man responded to him. He walked more quickly after that, navigating the mud carefully - it was a bit slippery. “Um, no,” he replied, when he was close enough not to shout. He held the umbrella out so that they could both stand under it - the younger man’s face might have been hawkish, but the rest of him had taken on more of a drowned rat look. The umbrella was large enough for the both of them, supposing they had no compunctions about personal space.
Finn didn’t, anyway.
“I came in through the main gate,” he said, pointing down the hill. The fence was barely visible now, a low shape in the fog, The buildings beyond it were uniformly dark and indistinguishable. “But it’s useless now. It would take us back to town, but… not the town we want.”
“Have you been here before?” he asked, recalling the recent influx of dreamers. It wasn’t safe anymore to assume that everyone knew how the Otherworld worked, or how to play by its rules. “To the Otherworld, I mean? I can get us out, but if you’re here… you’re just going to keep coming back again.”
s**t. That was ominous. Finn pulled a face, and then backtracked quickly. “I mean,” he said. “Actually. That’s exactly what I mean. It takes practice before you can come and go as you please. I can, um - where did you come in from in Real Ashdown? I can try to take us out as close to there as I can.”
Finn considered the gravestone that Alois had perched on. It was odd to see a dog buried in a human cemetery, but then this was the Otherworld and everything was odd here. “He’ll be where you left him,” he said. “Unless he wandered off. Dogs can sense the Otherworld. They’ll refuse to cross through. Is that his name? Schatzie?”
I want to go where Schatzie is, thought Finn, and felt the first magnetic tingles in his sinuses.
“The Otherworld,” shrugged Finn, trying to decide how to explain it. Aleksy was better at this introductory stuff than he was. He started walking slowly as to allow Alois to set the pace. “Other Ashdown. It’s… A localized magical occurrence centered on the town of Ashdown and the state forest. As far as I can tell, it doesn't exist anywhere else. It’s… Spooky. Spooky stuff happens here.”
It’s home to an ancient evil and the ancient evil is waking up, he thought, remembering his last conversation with Sunny - but that seemed sort of heavy to drop on someone who barely understood what was going on.
“You get here through… Doorways. Boundary lines. Liminal spaces. It’s always raining. Once you get your bearings, you'll start to recognize the ways in and out,” he explained. “They’re always changing.”
It was a good question. It was also one that Finn wasn’t sure how to answer. “You just get… a feel for them,” he said, cringing at how lame an answer that was. “Like. Fences where it’s raining on one side but not the other. Doorways where the weather doesn’t match what you see out the window. Changes in… air pressure. Like when your ears pop for no reason.”
Not, he thought, that that was a very helpful explanation. It still didn’t stop the problem of crossing over when you didn’t want to, when the boundary was thin or well-disguised. And as for getting back, well, he had no idea. He’d been relying on his magic for that ever since he’d gotten it. Before that… he’d just… wandered. “To get out… you look for a break in the rain,” he said, which was as good a response as Alois was going to get from him.
“My name’s Finn,” he added, turning away from the gate. “That one won’t take us out,” he said. “We’ll have to backtrack to your dog once we’re on the other side. Um.”
He pointed, indicating the farther gate. The small patch of sky framed by its arch looked brighter than all the surrounding sky. “That one will do it,” said Finn. “I’m a park ranger at Waite State forest. This isn’t much different from what I do all day at work.” He pursed his lips. “Do most people have an ulterior motive, in your experience?”
Finn nodded. He couldn’t begrudge other people their traumas. If this was working for Alois, well, this was working for Alois. He wasn’t going to try overhauling the behavior of someone he’d just met - that would be a d**k move.
“After you,” he said, gesturing to the gate. It was definitely a weird effect - rain on either side, no rain through, the cars parked on the other side of the street perfectly dry… and only visible through the gate. The tailgate of a truck vanished as it passed behind the wrought iron fence.. “Do you trust your dog to still be where you left him?”
“Yeah, sure,” replied Finn, lowering his umbrella and shaking it out before folding it. “I mean, if you’ve been there once, you’re likely to wind up there again.” But, he hoped, at least now Alois was a bit better equipped to handle himself in such a situation.
“We can definitely do this again sometime, though. Here - take my card.”
He pulled said business card out of his wallet and held it out to Alois. Finn Derouen, Park Ranger - Waite State Forest. “Cell number’s on there. Text me… whenever.” It was a friendly whenever, though, not a noncommittal one.
Maybe he was out to bust Alois for trespassing. But weren’t graveyards open til the evening? “I’ve been trying to leave, but I just learned I’m s**t at directions. Are you the groundskeeper?” His accent came thick, especially in agitated circumstances, but he enunciated well enough. If this man really was the groundskeeper, then he’d have precedent to ask about the gravestones with Alois’ name on it. And what about his dogs? So much of this place didn’t add up - it was like he stepped into an alternate dimension.
Truthfully he felt almost glad to see another face. Almost - depending on how well this man reacted to him. He might wind up shooting Alois just out of fear and thoughtless reaction. Or, he could end up leading Alois out of this strange Twilight Zone episode he wandered into without incident, unite him with Tschambes and be happily on his way without expecting thanks or favors from Alois.
But, time would tell. And he didn’t have a lot of it, either - Alois was sick to the bones of being wet./quote]
Not an Otherthing, Finn realized, as the other man responded to him. He walked more quickly after that, navigating the mud carefully - it was a bit slippery. “Um, no,” he replied, when he was close enough not to shout. He held the umbrella out so that they could both stand under it - the younger man’s face might have been hawkish, but the rest of him had taken on more of a drowned rat look. The umbrella was large enough for the both of them, supposing they had no compunctions about personal space.
Finn didn’t, anyway.
“I came in through the main gate,” he said, pointing down the hill. The fence was barely visible now, a low shape in the fog, The buildings beyond it were uniformly dark and indistinguishable. “But it’s useless now. It would take us back to town, but… not the town we want.”
“Have you been here before?” he asked, recalling the recent influx of dreamers. It wasn’t safe anymore to assume that everyone knew how the Otherworld worked, or how to play by its rules. “To the Otherworld, I mean? I can get us out, but if you’re here… you’re just going to keep coming back again.”
s**t. That was ominous. Finn pulled a face, and then backtracked quickly. “I mean,” he said. “Actually. That’s exactly what I mean. It takes practice before you can come and go as you please. I can, um - where did you come in from in Real Ashdown? I can try to take us out as close to there as I can.”
Quote:
”I noticed,” Alois replied abruptly. “I’ve been through it about six times. Things here aren’t the same, and they’re still not the same out there. It doesn’t make any sense. And I can’t find my dog. I know he’s not dead.” He perched a boot on the tombstone of Schatzie, an inadvertent and reluctant Captain Morgan with both arms still crossed against the world. “It’s like I’m going to the right place, but it isn’t.” It would take us back to town, but not the town we want’. What exactly does that mean here?
When Finn clarified his question, Alois stared at him blankly. He spoke of nonsense in those few seconds, much like the surreal conversation held with Aleksy. What was he on about? Strange dreams, Otherworlds… What was wrong with this podunk little town? “To the what? I don’t know what an ‘Otherworld’ is, but I’ve been to this graveyard twice now and I live in this ridiculous town. English isn’t my first language, obviously, but I’m not that far behind in comprehension. Tell me, what is an Otherworld and what does it have to do with this place? It’s like everything went sideways once I passed into the graveyard.
“And a way out would be useful, too.” While he did not step under the umbrella immediately - he first debated with himself whether getting rained on more really mattered in his current state (and the phrase ‘drowned rat’ sounded highly familiar, though he could not determine why) - he did have a distinct want to do so. Finally he gave up on his naturally aversive inclinations and stepped under the umbrella just enough to stymie the rain. Squeezing his bangs out was a matter of catching the heavy wefts and pressing them between palms.
When Finn clarified his question, Alois stared at him blankly. He spoke of nonsense in those few seconds, much like the surreal conversation held with Aleksy. What was he on about? Strange dreams, Otherworlds… What was wrong with this podunk little town? “To the what? I don’t know what an ‘Otherworld’ is, but I’ve been to this graveyard twice now and I live in this ridiculous town. English isn’t my first language, obviously, but I’m not that far behind in comprehension. Tell me, what is an Otherworld and what does it have to do with this place? It’s like everything went sideways once I passed into the graveyard.
“And a way out would be useful, too.” While he did not step under the umbrella immediately - he first debated with himself whether getting rained on more really mattered in his current state (and the phrase ‘drowned rat’ sounded highly familiar, though he could not determine why) - he did have a distinct want to do so. Finally he gave up on his naturally aversive inclinations and stepped under the umbrella just enough to stymie the rain. Squeezing his bangs out was a matter of catching the heavy wefts and pressing them between palms.
Finn considered the gravestone that Alois had perched on. It was odd to see a dog buried in a human cemetery, but then this was the Otherworld and everything was odd here. “He’ll be where you left him,” he said. “Unless he wandered off. Dogs can sense the Otherworld. They’ll refuse to cross through. Is that his name? Schatzie?”
I want to go where Schatzie is, thought Finn, and felt the first magnetic tingles in his sinuses.
“The Otherworld,” shrugged Finn, trying to decide how to explain it. Aleksy was better at this introductory stuff than he was. He started walking slowly as to allow Alois to set the pace. “Other Ashdown. It’s… A localized magical occurrence centered on the town of Ashdown and the state forest. As far as I can tell, it doesn't exist anywhere else. It’s… Spooky. Spooky stuff happens here.”
It’s home to an ancient evil and the ancient evil is waking up, he thought, remembering his last conversation with Sunny - but that seemed sort of heavy to drop on someone who barely understood what was going on.
“You get here through… Doorways. Boundary lines. Liminal spaces. It’s always raining. Once you get your bearings, you'll start to recognize the ways in and out,” he explained. “They’re always changing.”
Quote:
The man’s explanations drew further into the esoteric, and for a moment Alois felt as though he were drawn into a folktale of old. Ancient germanic tongues spoke of faerie woods, of carnivorous demons lusting after children in the darkest hours. While this ‘Other Ashdown’ seemed less iniquitous, it felt like it belonged to the same vein of the bizarre.
“That explains why Schatzie just stayed by the cemetery gate. He did not follow as I told him to do. It’s unusual for him.” Alois cast a glance back toward the shadow of a gate in the distance, though he found no sign of the dog. He found nothing to indicate a viable exit, according to his guide, either. “But to call it all magic...” His hawkish gaze returned to the other man. “It’s a little childish, wouldn’t you say? It’s easy enough to rob someone under the guise of helping them out. To cite something so whimsical in all seriousness reeks of ulterior motive. Who are you? How do you know all of this?”
’Doorways. Boundary lines. Liminal spaces. Spooky stuff happens here.’ I can’t completely doubt him. The gravestones, the dog, the sudden rain, they’re all pointing to something I don’t understand. Is it magic? I don’t know. Maybe science doesn’t have a name for it yet. When I hit that deer, I didn’t expect to wind up in a place like this.
Stepping over a large tree root that gnarled its way over the ground, Alois kept a brisk pace. He wanted heat, coffee, his dog. The rain droned in its flat patter on the soaked ground and old tombstones. This place started to foster a sense of dread in him. “And how do I recognize these doorways in and out?”
“That explains why Schatzie just stayed by the cemetery gate. He did not follow as I told him to do. It’s unusual for him.” Alois cast a glance back toward the shadow of a gate in the distance, though he found no sign of the dog. He found nothing to indicate a viable exit, according to his guide, either. “But to call it all magic...” His hawkish gaze returned to the other man. “It’s a little childish, wouldn’t you say? It’s easy enough to rob someone under the guise of helping them out. To cite something so whimsical in all seriousness reeks of ulterior motive. Who are you? How do you know all of this?”
’Doorways. Boundary lines. Liminal spaces. Spooky stuff happens here.’ I can’t completely doubt him. The gravestones, the dog, the sudden rain, they’re all pointing to something I don’t understand. Is it magic? I don’t know. Maybe science doesn’t have a name for it yet. When I hit that deer, I didn’t expect to wind up in a place like this.
Stepping over a large tree root that gnarled its way over the ground, Alois kept a brisk pace. He wanted heat, coffee, his dog. The rain droned in its flat patter on the soaked ground and old tombstones. This place started to foster a sense of dread in him. “And how do I recognize these doorways in and out?”
It was a good question. It was also one that Finn wasn’t sure how to answer. “You just get… a feel for them,” he said, cringing at how lame an answer that was. “Like. Fences where it’s raining on one side but not the other. Doorways where the weather doesn’t match what you see out the window. Changes in… air pressure. Like when your ears pop for no reason.”
Not, he thought, that that was a very helpful explanation. It still didn’t stop the problem of crossing over when you didn’t want to, when the boundary was thin or well-disguised. And as for getting back, well, he had no idea. He’d been relying on his magic for that ever since he’d gotten it. Before that… he’d just… wandered. “To get out… you look for a break in the rain,” he said, which was as good a response as Alois was going to get from him.
“My name’s Finn,” he added, turning away from the gate. “That one won’t take us out,” he said. “We’ll have to backtrack to your dog once we’re on the other side. Um.”
He pointed, indicating the farther gate. The small patch of sky framed by its arch looked brighter than all the surrounding sky. “That one will do it,” said Finn. “I’m a park ranger at Waite State forest. This isn’t much different from what I do all day at work.” He pursed his lips. “Do most people have an ulterior motive, in your experience?”
Quote:
Finn’s initial response received a caustic stare in reply, which quickly lessened upon receipt of genuinely useful information. Breaks in the rain, changes in weather pattern - these were both occurrences that Alois felt confident he could identify. Alois decided that he would avoid visiting this Other Ashdown without the presence of someone more experienced, for he wanted to avoid the potential hours of wandering that he wasted here. Would he come back? Ultimately, yes - Other Ashdown provided a genuine mystery that he knew nothing about, and that gave him something to latch onto - if only for some weeks, or months.
Thrusting hands into pockets, Alois continued probing their surroundings with his scrutinizing gaze. Trees upon trees, densely populated shrubs in the outskirts of the graveyard grounds, and headstones for hundreds of yards behind that. Over the old stone retaining walls he saw yet more rain and stifling fog. Spotting these doorways might require practice.
When Finn pointed, he followed the direction immediately. At first he saw little more than fog, but upon examining the indicated arch, he realized the fog looked lighter in an area beyond the wrought-iron frame. Blindingly so, perhaps - like an overachieving streetlight or the sun itself. “I see.” Finn was quite useful for that, at least; the ranger found him and bailed him out of being lost for possibly forever (though, Alois expected, he would’ve found his way eventually) for seemingly no reason beyond being the ‘right thing to do’.
“Alois,” he provided after a minute. “To answer you, I try not to stick around long enough to find out if most people have an ulterior motive.” He remained silent afterward, though he sighed as if dissatisfied with his own answer. Another few steps left him at enough distance that he responded again. “... When I was younger, they did. And if they didn’t have an ulterior motive, then I did. Es ist eine Lebensart geworden. Ah, it’s… become a way of life?” He shrugged flippantly.
He shouldn’t have continued, he knew.
Thrusting hands into pockets, Alois continued probing their surroundings with his scrutinizing gaze. Trees upon trees, densely populated shrubs in the outskirts of the graveyard grounds, and headstones for hundreds of yards behind that. Over the old stone retaining walls he saw yet more rain and stifling fog. Spotting these doorways might require practice.
When Finn pointed, he followed the direction immediately. At first he saw little more than fog, but upon examining the indicated arch, he realized the fog looked lighter in an area beyond the wrought-iron frame. Blindingly so, perhaps - like an overachieving streetlight or the sun itself. “I see.” Finn was quite useful for that, at least; the ranger found him and bailed him out of being lost for possibly forever (though, Alois expected, he would’ve found his way eventually) for seemingly no reason beyond being the ‘right thing to do’.
“Alois,” he provided after a minute. “To answer you, I try not to stick around long enough to find out if most people have an ulterior motive.” He remained silent afterward, though he sighed as if dissatisfied with his own answer. Another few steps left him at enough distance that he responded again. “... When I was younger, they did. And if they didn’t have an ulterior motive, then I did. Es ist eine Lebensart geworden. Ah, it’s… become a way of life?” He shrugged flippantly.
He shouldn’t have continued, he knew.
Finn nodded. He couldn’t begrudge other people their traumas. If this was working for Alois, well, this was working for Alois. He wasn’t going to try overhauling the behavior of someone he’d just met - that would be a d**k move.
“After you,” he said, gesturing to the gate. It was definitely a weird effect - rain on either side, no rain through, the cars parked on the other side of the street perfectly dry… and only visible through the gate. The tailgate of a truck vanished as it passed behind the wrought iron fence.. “Do you trust your dog to still be where you left him?”
Quote:
Alois didn’t hesitate when prompted to step toward the jarringly sunny side of the fence. As soon as he exited the otherworldly ambience of Other Ashdown, he whipped waterlogged hair forward and squeezed out most of the rainwater. Straightening up left slowly cascading, moist and jagged wefts to settle against his back. “I’ll find Schatzie. We’ve gotten separated before; it’s not hard to track him down. He knows what to do.” And he better not have forgotten.
“Thanks… For that.” Alois gestured back at the entrance they just used. He doubted, by Finn’s explanations, that he could go back that way - or even use that exit in the future.
“Before I go grab my dog, I want to know - can you take me back there again someday?” He hoped that asking such a favor didn’t require making house calls and being friendly and attending dinner parties. Finn didn’t give that impression, though he didn’t give much of an impression in general; Alois only gleaned that he wasn’t quick to anger or assume.
“Thanks… For that.” Alois gestured back at the entrance they just used. He doubted, by Finn’s explanations, that he could go back that way - or even use that exit in the future.
“Before I go grab my dog, I want to know - can you take me back there again someday?” He hoped that asking such a favor didn’t require making house calls and being friendly and attending dinner parties. Finn didn’t give that impression, though he didn’t give much of an impression in general; Alois only gleaned that he wasn’t quick to anger or assume.
“Yeah, sure,” replied Finn, lowering his umbrella and shaking it out before folding it. “I mean, if you’ve been there once, you’re likely to wind up there again.” But, he hoped, at least now Alois was a bit better equipped to handle himself in such a situation.
“We can definitely do this again sometime, though. Here - take my card.”
He pulled said business card out of his wallet and held it out to Alois. Finn Derouen, Park Ranger - Waite State Forest. “Cell number’s on there. Text me… whenever.” It was a friendly whenever, though, not a noncommittal one.
Quote:
”I’d rather not get lost again.” Alois accepted the card willingly, looked it over, and pocketed it. Fumbling around with adding it into his cell could wait for another time. “I’ll be in touch.” He wanted to know more about Other Ashdown - much more - before he chanced another venture. Already he considered the number of bookstores around town for information mining, assuming that anyone had written a damn word about this strange place.
Alois started in the direction of the cemetery entrance, then hesitated. “And, I should say, thanks for your help.” He tossed the words over shoulder, not fully committing to eye contact. Alois wasn’t often thankful, but he also wasn’t often lost in some strange otherdimension half-buried in a town.
There was reason for thanks, at least.
“Tschüß Ranger Finn.”
Alois started in the direction of the cemetery entrance, then hesitated. “And, I should say, thanks for your help.” He tossed the words over shoulder, not fully committing to eye contact. Alois wasn’t often thankful, but he also wasn’t often lost in some strange otherdimension half-buried in a town.
There was reason for thanks, at least.
“Tschüß Ranger Finn.”
