From the depths of Lake Elizabeth in the Sangre de Cristos Mountains, the Lady's arm emerged gripping a rusty sword. Backpack lazing nearby, he cast a stone, skipping over the water to the Old Ways, spreading their rings in all directions.... and the frog leaped into the pond again, Plop! The long path home was also telling. Trees stood tall and stiff as sentinels; bushes swayed, and flowers blushed. Mud clung to the soles of his high cut boots, slaking each step sung by "the necessary angel of earth."