Before I could even begin to wonder why he decided not to crash, I heard a loud commotion coming from my right. I turned and saw what looked like an old logging town, situated just downriver from where I landed. I brushed myself off and walked towards it, feeling cuts and bruises throughout my body, but nothing really serious.

Upon arriving in the town, I saw what could only be described as chaos. The town, which seemed to split right down the middle by the river, was full of people, who were busy throwing their belongings into the water. They rushed back and forth from buildings and homes to the river, tossing everything in. Most of the perishable and damageable things seemed to be packed into barrels, which were sealed up, nailed shut, and thrown in. Everything was floating down a bit, under a elevated bridge that ran over the river, and then down the river toward a series of rapids that ended in a large waterfall. And on top of the bridge, a band was playing a strange sort of waltz, with a very rustic and kind of eerie quality to it.

I walked up to a younger man who was wearing a top hat and seemingly conducting everything, yelling instructions to people and moving his cane back and forth.

"Excuse me sir, but what is this place and what's going on?"

"Why, this is none other than glorious Splinter Rapids, and you are witnessing a mass evacuation," he stated with an air of showmanship as he directed a group of men carrying a large barrel towards the river.

"Why are you evacuating exactly?"

"Because this logging town is no longer seen as 'necessary' and so they're going to flood the valley to create a new lake for commercial purposes, mostly fishing and lakeside resorts."

"I see, but then why are these people throwing everything into the river?"

"To have it shipped down the river towards new land, where we'll set up a new town," he said with a somewhat annoyed tone, as if I should've been able to guess. I decided to be quiet and watch what was going on for a bit.

After it seemed every last thing that wasn't nailed down had been tossed in, people began rolling a series of logs toward the river, which had been stored in the lumberyard. One after another, families lined up, and climbed on to large logs, strapping themselves on as best as they could. A number of men, who I guessed to be lumberjacks, shoved the logs in, and the people floated downriver on them, towards the rapids.

"Excuse me again, but what if they drown on those?"

"My good man, logs float naturally, much like ducks and boats and debris. These will float right to the surface once they make it down the falls. Then they can continue on down to where their belongings end up, and we'll make our journey eastward, to the woodlands east of the valley. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must finish up here so I can hop on my own log. You may join me if you don't wish to be standing at the bottom of a lake."

With that, he hurried to a large log and situated himself upon it. I saw the band suddenly stop playing, and jump onto a nearby log with their instruments, shoving off to head towards the ominous falls. Suddenly a low rumbling noise sounded, and I looked behind me to see the crest of a large amount of water starting to come up over the horizon. I quickly hopped on the last log, as did the remaining lumberjacks, and we rushed down the rapids and over the falls.

As we hit the pool of water below, I turned to look up at the falls. They slowed down to a trickle, and then nothing, and as I looked closer, I could see that they had been dammed up with the remaining trees, wood, and buildings from Splinter Rapids. All at once, the people had managed to make it downriver to a split, where they gathered up their barrels, a few of which had busted open, and began the trek towards the east.

"Well, as the mayor of the late Splinter Rapids logging town, I bid you farewell and safe travels my friend," he said cordially, shaking my hand. Then he joined his fellow townspeople, who trekked off towards a woodland that was slowly being descended upon by fog. I sat for a moment to gather myself together before noticing that it was getting rather late, and the sky was getting darker. Quickly, I hurried after the townspeople, deciding that maybe I'd make camp with them. It was hard to see through the fog, but I journeyed in what I hoped was the correct direction.