Saskatchewan, Canada Tall, thick grass cushioned his head and body as large, coniferous trees towered over him. Ryan could feel the changes made to his body. He could sense the new discomforts in his joints that came with age. He could hear the thoughts in his head telling him that he no longer was mentally capable of processing information quickly. His face was rounder and hairier. His body was plumper and physically slower. He had aged. And he was now 40. The sounds of wildlife echoed softly in the distance. Birds flapped their wings overhead, hidden in the treetops. It was mid-day most likely, judging by the height of the sun in the sky, but Ryan couldn’t tell exactly what time that might have been. He could barely see the sun through the arboreal ceiling. Just a sliver of the sun could be seen. “Where am I?” “Poor bloke! Doesn’t even know a forest when he’s in one,” a voice said behind him. Ryan quickly turned around to see two tall creatures sitting upon a fallen tree, watching him with curious fascination. They were covered in thick, dark brown hair and possessed large, thick feet. One of them was wearing an explorer’s outfit, complete with hat and ascot. The other simply was wearing trousers with binoculars around his neck and a monocle. “Chewie?” Ryan asked, feeling disoriented. “No,” the one with the monocle spoke. “We are not in Mexico.” He had a strong British accent and a composure about him that was very…British. “The poor fellow thinks we are in Mexico,” he said to the other one. “My good man,” the other began. “I do believe he is not asking if your name is ‘Chuy’ of the Hispanic descent, but rather mistaking you for a fictional character popularized by a science fiction genre of the American cinema.” “That’s preposterous. Utterly preposterous!” “I couldn’t agree more, Thames.” The hairy creature arose from the log and approached Ryan. He straightened his ascot and said, “We are not in Mexico as my brother had mentioned. But rather quite the opposite. We are in Canada. Saskatchewan to be more precise.” “But you’re British,” Ryan replied in confusion. “That’s right,” Thames replied. “I thought only the French colonized Canada,” Ryan said. “That is a common misconception,” Thames stated as the other chuckled. “My good man. Where do you think British Columbia came from?” The only response they got from Ryan was a shrug. Then, in a moment of realization, he said, “I, daresay. Where are my manners? An introduction is in order. My name is Bartholomew. Jonas Bartholomew, Esquire. My brother, here, is Thames.” “Please to make your acquaintance,” Thames greeted. “My name is Ryan. Ryan Henderson. How did I get here?” “Not the foggiest, I’m afraid. But you did appear to be in some sort of distress.” Ryan looked at his hands, noticing the extra thickness and plumpness in his palms and fingers. He touched his face and felt the roundness, the scruffy facial hair lining his upper lips, and the fullness of his cheeks. His heart sank as despair fell over him. “How did this happen,” he asked himself. “I’m old.” “And unattractive.” “Thames,” Jonas began in a disapproving tone. “I’m quite certain he was unattractive before.” “You are quite right, Jonas. My apologies.” “Now that you know where you are, do you know why you are here?” “I’m on a quest,” Ryan answered, although, due to his current physical condition, he didn’t sound thrilled about it. But Jonas did. “Oh, jolly good! An expedition into the unknown. I am dressed for just an occasion. May we join you on this grand venture?” “You don’t know what the expedition is for, Jonas,” Thames stated matter-of-factly. “That is of no concern to an adventurer such as myself,” Jonas replied. “It is the thrill of the chase. Whatever you are chasing, my good sir, I want in.” “Actually,” Ryan realized, “I think I’m here to find you.” “Me?” “Well, not you, exactly. But your kind. You’re a Bigfoot. A Sasquatch!” Jonas and Thames looked at each other and began to laugh. “We certainly are not,” Thames replied. “But you’re tall and hairy and have large feet,” Ryan said, pointing to their thick, hairy feet. “And I’m wearing clothes and speaking,” Jonas added. “In a British accent, no less. Thames, here, is wearing a monocle. No! We are not the infamous people of the sasquatch.” “We are not so fortunate to be among them,” Thames stated, adjusting his monocle. “We are Swatchers. Their observers and guardians.” “Swatchers?” Ryan asked. “Sasquatch Watchers,” Thames explained. “A slightly less significant clan. You see, our feet are rather quite diminutive by comparison.” “Among us, the crude term of ‘bigfoot’ is more of a physical distinction rather than a physical description.” “But if I were to take you to…say…Ireland,” Ryan ventured. “People would mistake you as a sasquatch.” “I suppose so,” Jonas shrugged. “What’s to explore in Ireland?” “The most elusive creature known to man,” Ryan enticed. He began to feel the desire burn within him. It was the drive that began to fuel his urgency to continue with his quest. He couldn’t believe how fast it was to locate the First Truth. By sheer luck or divine intervention, he was dropped right in front of two. He hoped the remaining two would be just as easy to find. He just didn’t know how he was going to get out of Canada and into Ireland.
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