I kept walking. Somehow, being lost among short grasses bending in the afternoon sun and trees undulating in a light breeze was less stressful than it ought to have been. Though wild, the foliage nevertheless had a faint air of maintenance about it, almost like the median strip on a highway.

After twenty minutes, I saw the girl again, sitting on another rock. Given her disinclination to move before, I was surprised to see that she’d somehow gotten ahead of me.

“How did you get here before me?” I demanded.

Still keeping that absurd, almost meditative pose, the girl opened one eye and once again regarded me. “I have not moved from this spot,” she said.

“Then how did you get ahead of me?” I demanded. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Things often don’t,” she replied, closing the eye. “But I’m not surprised to see you again.”

“You don’t exactly seem to be anything to see me again,” I said. “Care to be a little less cryptic for those of us not into transcendental meditation on random rocks?”

She sighed. “The glen won’t let you leave.”