Mead dulled the mind, and slowed one’s reflexes, making it easy to escape.She continued to scratch the wood, more intensely now. She didn’t notice... but her hands were beginning to draw upon the fire, her fingers sparkling with flames, drawing red tears of sap from the oak, her hands now autonomous.Today the voice was sober. And the voice was coming closer.‘We don’t have long, Jean. Haven’t you missed me?’Suddenly, the voice was right next to her. It grabbed her neck with chunky, gristled hands. Much stronger. You'll see. You'll find out the rest of that story while we are there for your birthday."And like Dad did with my fainting spell that first day on the ledge, I just let it go, knowing there was more to it, but willing to wait until the right time to get my answers.Dad and I didn't let our new project go however, we spent the next year trying to gain as much knowledge and insight into what was happening and where I was taking us. We were able to confirm pretty much absolutely that. More

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