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Let's Play shrapnel

Watershed said:
Follow the narrow path through the trees.
Click to expand...
North
You are standing north of a white house. There is no door here, and all the windows are boarded. To the north a narrow path winds through the trees.

North
You set off into the forest...

In the pines
As you proceed along the path, the light trickling in through the treetops seems to grow brighter, as if it had been sunrise and not sunset when you began. And the trees... this isn't North Carolina anymore. This is, what? Maryland? Pennsylvania? You'd think a man would notice walking two hundred miles, but apparently not.

You hear voices in the distance.

"Hey, Green," says the first one. Even this is enough for you to pinpoint the accent: Carolina. So you're not caught behind enemy lines. Good to know.

"Yeah?" says someone, presumably Green. There was a Green in your regiment, you recall. Common enough name to be a coincidence, though. "Have you been helped?"
 
turbler said:
proceed north
Click to expand...
North
You-- hmm, you seem to-- where did that path go? You seem to have lost your bearings. The sun is still south, right? But where's the path? You looked at the path and the trees changed, you look at the trees and the path changed... but hell with it. Hell with it. You can find your way out of here...

In the pines
You are walking through a forest nestled among low-lying hills somewhere north of the Mason-Dixon. The air is full of birdsong and the smell of gunpowder.

The voices resume.

"How come you're here?" asks the first voice, in less a drawl than a whine. "You're no Southerner..."

"I'm a substitute, Einstein," Green says. "You get drafted, you shoot a couple creds to the local op, and some poor ellhead gets to dodge artillery shells in your place. And chances are this ellhead ain't gonna be from the landed gentry of old Virginny, hm?"

The thing is, you vaguely remember this exchange. This is certainly the same idiot you remember from the war; at least the other immigrant substitutes just shit their pants when they got scared and didn't jibber in broken English. The strange thing is, with each passing moment you remember the conversation you've just heard more and more clearly -- but you still have zero recollection of what came next.
 
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