They reached the top of the small hill and stopped in front of the wooden post. It stood perfectly straight, as if someone had planted it there on purpose. The wood was smooth and clean, not rough like something that had grown naturally.
Fate touched it lightly.
Warm.
Again.
Just like the pebble.
Just like the box.
Just like the grass patch.
"This is definitely placed here," Fate said.
The Dreamer nodded. "Yes. Someone is guiding us."
They looked ahead—and saw something new.
The path split.
One trail went left.
The other went right.
Both were narrow and made of pressed grass, but the left path curved slightly toward shorter grass, while the right path led into taller grass that swayed more with the wind.
Fate frowned. "Why split it now? How are we supposed to know which way to go?"
The Dreamer walked between the two paths and crouched, touching each one. "We check for the same signs as before."
