You walk the limerock path until it turns into a cracked and faded county road lined with sagging fenceposts and Angus cattle, black as jackboots. The air is warm and dusty. A breeze whispers through the longleaf pines, and an abandoned tractor sinks into the tall grass. Somewhere in the distance, you hear horses whinnying.
Follow the hoof prints into the oak hammock.
Climb to the top of the hay barn to get a better view.
Sometimes the trail doesn’t feel right… nothing wrong with turning back.