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Ryan where to place his hand! But it would not allow Ryan to grab a hold of its own! This process of “pointing and patting” went on until Ryan—being directed each time as to which root to grab—climbed out of the chasm.
    Once reaching the top Ryan quickly knock s off the insects that are crawling on him and while talking and slapping said, “I am so glad you came along! I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” and spinning around he looks everywhere but sees no one.
    “Hello, where did you go, don’t go away, I need to talk to you.” Ryan pleaded.
    “Please come back, you don’t understand, our plane crashed my father is trapped, PLEASE! Tell me where you are! Oh God no, please don’t go away.” Ryan’s voice fade s.
    Then , in a dark shadow of a sweet gum tree, Ryan sees him—or it. He is not exactly sure what he is looking at.
    Hunker ing down in the shadows is a large—hulk of a man. Two eyes are looking back at Ryan intently. They appear to be lit from the inside like a jack-o-lantern. They look peaceful, not threatening. Chills run up and down Ryan’s body. He moves forward cautiously saying, “I just wanted to thank you,” and extends a hand in friendship. The figure rises up, and up and up until the top of his head is seven feet off the ground. He extends an open palm in a halting motion so as to say— stop right there!
    Ryan, frozen in fear looks him up and down starting at the top. There’s a foot of hair piled high in a bun. There are bones and feathers protruding from the bun. The face is too dark to see but it looks painted. The skin is a dark bronze. His chest is tattooed and adorned with ornaments and so are his arms and wrists. Wrapping around his loins—a white cloth. His legs above the knees are adorned with ornaments too. Ryan cannot see his feet. In one hand is a six foot long-bow. The bow has ornaments also.
    Ryan does not lower his extended hand and inches closer motioning in a handshake fashion saying, “please sir , I would just like to thank you.” The man extends a second open palm forward so as to say— stop I mean it. Ryan gets the message and lowers his hand. The man points down at Ryan’s feet.
    Ryan looks down and sees a stone pointer, pointing in the direction of the path he is to travel. Ryan picks the pointer up. It’s a beautiful spear point tooled out of flint. An “orange point” the collectors would say. Turning, Ryan holds it up to the sunlight—it is translucent. Ryan is mesmerized by its beauty.
    A cold fog blows against Ryan’s face.
    Ryan turns .
    T he man is gone!
    “Hey, wait a minute . Hold on we need to talk.” Ryan said loudly dropping the spear point.
    “I get it now, great get-up. I like the whole re-enactment thing.” Ryan listens intently for any sign of movement.
    “My uncle is into the re-enactment thing. What are you Seminole? Are you Timacuan? What?” Ryan spins around and around, bobbing up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of the man. He starts to become frustrated.
    “Hey, listen to me. I really need a ride out of here. Maybe we can take your truck or something?” Ryan stops and gets angry.
    “I am not playing around! You better show yourself I don’t have a lot of time.” Nothing heard but silence.
    Then in desperation, “Don’t make me come after you. Don’t let me get my hands on you. You don’t scare me.”
    And w ith humiliation, “Ha, I didn’t like your dang costume anyway! My mother makes a better Halloween costume than what you’re wearing!” 
    Finally w ith a threat, “If I get my hands around your neck, you’re a dead-man!” Still there is nothing but silence.
    And then one final insult, “ You’re a Coward!”
    There is no motion, nothing to be heard but the sound of the wind and the locusts in the trees. The echo of his last word rings with hollowness. It tells Ryan that he is truly all alone in this vast wildness.
    Then , out of the corner of his eye, a movement . A flash as something leaps up