Eddies of swirling breezes dance about the woods wisping leaves in a subtle choreography. Warm in my bag, I listen to the sounds. As my imagination wanders, random cracklings aquire patterns while winds wisper gutteral groans. My neckhair stiffens as I reach for my Swiss Army knife. I will not fear.
Fear is the mind killer.
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past me, I will turn to see the fear's path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.