Then he saw the rocks and knew he had chosen the right path. A wall of 
brown granite, dark and damp from the condensing fog, materialized before them. 
They heard it before they saw it; it made no sound, but its presence changed 
the acoustics of the forest. The fog was closing in, and they could barely see 
the silhouettes of scrubby, wind-gnarled mountain trees lined up uncomfortably 
along the top of the cliff.