Gegenschein Gladness On A Moonless Night.

A hint of mist shrouded habitation irresistibly demands a change of direction, but you're soon lost in pine pricked pathlessness.

Looking straight down from desperate eye mountaineering, you see two incongruous artefacts before the darkling forest colours hurry to black, as if the sun gave up trying to sequin with cosmic dust a circular part of the sky once your attention was directed.

'What should I do? '' Wear them of course. ' Say the eyes of a racoon glowing up from her food.

Even if the lights ahead are only bioluminescence this is unconfirmed.

You've now hope and boots.