The Wet Walkers - Mary Smith

Finally we found the stack of carefully placed rocks and we had our sign... the wet walkers had been here! We exchanged looks and Raff gently guided our mule and enormous wagon off the trail on to a faintly used path that led down a gentle slope into a breathtaking wooded area. The path turned sharply... and there it was just in time as evening shadows slowly turned into darkness. It was a dwelling, dark, desolate, seemingly deserted. Bits and pieces of a broken fence scattered as if by the wind lay over the pitiful overgrown yard. We were filled with questions to which there seemed no answers. Would it give up its secrets? Raff climbed from the wagon, took my hand and together we walked to the cold closed door.