It was another dark, silent night. The fog drowned the gorge in its nebular paleness, giving the already gloomy environment another layer of quiet menace. Some nights it felt like it was alive, in the sense that a dormant predator is. Still, asleep, waiting for hunger to be insufferable to stir and hunt...

A light suddenly shines through the mirador, blinding you momentarily. Shielding your eyes, you are not alerted in the slightest. You know what that it. The operator on the other side of the gorge wants to talk.

Smiling to yourself, you grab your papers and a marker, and exit the comfortable temperature of your shelter to stand onto the balcony overlooking the cliff. In front of you, the warm lights of his own watchtower shining against his back, he looks back at you with an easy smile, his torchlight now directed at his paper.

There, a message written in a bold, slightly clumsy handwriting reads : Want to play a game?