The man meandered through the crunched snow, he was out on an early morning walk, on a look out to find anything out of place. The Winter breeze was getting stronger, the trees were blowing South and the man was reaching the end of his walk. His footsteps crunched in the iced snow, every step becoming louder, until out the corner of his eye a tall, thin rope hung down from the sky.

He was getting closer to it, smoke snaking all through the air, his head turned and faced up at the clouds in disbelief. Gently with a great deal of reverence he touched the end of the rope. It was soft, smooth even until his hand was almost to scared to hold it any longer.