You board the wagon, waving at the other costumed passengers as you take your seat on the hay bale. Watching the sun set and dusk begin to settle, you lose yourself in the peaceful creak of the wagons wheels and nickering of the horses as the wagon makes it's way through the field of flowers, their fragrant aroma pleasant. One of your fellow passengers offers you an orange and you accept, peeling it absentmindedly as you lose yourself in your thoughts. You finally notice it's now night, and begin to wonder how long you've been on this ride and, more importantly, when it stops. Turning to inquire one of your fellows, you are shocked to discover you are the only one in the wagon, surrounded by ominous trees, bare of any leaves. The horses come to a standstill at a crossroads and the driver looks back at you, his hollow eyes staring imploringly from his straw face. Which way shall you choose?