Michael T. Hare

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

– Robert Frost

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The hiker swung on his backpack, tightening the waistbelt and tugging the straps. He was ready. In front of him was the forest, dwarfed by a seemingly infinite number of mountains in the distance. Two trails lay before him—the left carved by man and the right formed by wilderness.

The hiker looked right. Tall grasses and interspersed trees riddled the area. The hiker looked left. A smooth dirt path cut through the trees, allowing undisturbed travel. Many people had traversed it in the past—that much was evident by how many bootprints marred the dirt. The hiker looked right again. A deer stared at him through the trees. The hiker looked left again. Silence was the only thing that greeted him.

The hiker took the right path.

The deer looked delighted and bounded off, occasionally glancing back at him. The hiker laughed and walked on, boots crunching over loose twigs and pine needles. He wondered where this path would take him. He wasn’t the first to come this way—he saw bent sections of grass here and there and even spotted a faded bootprint. Not many hikers chose this route.

His journey led him up hills and down valleys, testing and strengthing his resolve at the same time. Days flew by like low-hanging clouds in a windstorm, but he was determined to keep going. The deer was a constant companion through the hard days—for some reason, it wouldn’t leave him alone. It bounded ahead, glancing back at him, and the hiker learned to follow the creature.

He didn’t know why. It just felt like the right thing to do.

As the sun set one night, the hiker pitched his tent and started a little fire. It amazed him how much talking he didn’t do when trekking the wilderness. Most days, his tongue stayed glued to the roof of his mouth, immobile and useless.

Something nudged him under the arm. The hiker glanced below his elbow to find the deer, its tranquil eyes gleaming against the firelight. Astonished, the hiker stared up at the massive creature. Was it the same one as before? “You’ve certainly taken a liking to me, haven’t you?”

The deer cocked its head.

“What do you want? Food?”

Without hesitation, the deer hunkered down and curled up beside the log he was sitting on. Its eyes remained open, staring intently at him, but not in a begging way. It seemed curious, interested, and… kind. It grunted softly and nudged him on the knee.

“You like it out here?” the hiker asked. “You know, I’m very grateful for places like this. To be in a world filled with nothing but animals, plants, and… well… whatever else may be lurking brings a sense of possibility, you know?”

The deer blinked.

“In a realm as vast as this, it really hits you that… there may be more. Mountains, for instance, may hold many fantastical things yet to be discovered. It’s… it’s…” He shook his head, running a hand through his brown hair. “Sorry, it’s difficult to explain… but it’s how I feel. To me, nature is a door to a bigger world. Within it, I feel a sort of peace.”

With a snort, the deer planted its snout on its front legs, eyelids fluttering shut.

“You’re a strange creature,” said the hiker. He gently reached out a hand and grazed the tip of the deer’s right ear. Seeing as the animal didn’t respond negatively, he stroked its surprisingly soft forehead. It had felt good to talk after hours of walking.

As the sun rose in the morning, the hiker heated some coffee and walked a little away from his camp. He’d been told there was a view somewhere around here, but since he’d taken a less-traveled road, he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to see it.

“Alright, let’s see here,” he muttered.

The hiker looked left and right, but all he saw were trees. Birds flitted around the branches, their flapping wings slicing the daylight and making it flicker. He’d walked so far yesterday, even into the night. There was supposed to be a view!

He heard a slight sound behind him, and the hiker turned to see the deer. “You know this road,” the hiker said. “You led me out here, but I don’t see a view. If I had taken the dirt road, I would’ve seen it like everyone else. What’s the point of having me out here?”

The deer grunted, jerking its head in a gesture for the hiker to follow. After hesitating, the hiker obeyed and kept pace with the animal. Step after step, the hiker walked silently beside the deer, who kept a firm gaze ahead. “Your road has some charm to it, I’ll admit,” the hiker said, “but I don’t see the appeal—”

He stopped mid-sentence, his empty coffee cup slipping from his hands and shattering on a rock. The trees parted little ways after, revealing what appeared to be an open sky. Five other hikers stood against it, bodies outlined by the blazing sun. Squinting, the hiker approached and found they were gazing off a giant cliff. He marveled at the height—everything below was miniature.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” one of the hikers asked. “All the other mountains look pretty small compared to this height.”

Looking farther below, the hiker glimpsed what appeared to be another cliff, though it was far below him and blocked off by an iron railing. He recognized the bright, orange color of the dirt—it was the road he’d chosen not to take. People filtered back and forth on the small dropoff below, pointing and taking pictures of… what? He didn’t understand.

“What are they looking at?”

Another hiker laughed. “Us,” she replied. “You see, the little road down there leads to a view—lots of people come to see it, but it isn’t often you get to be it.”

“Wait,” the hiker said, piecing together the story. “Are you saying… we’re standing on the view?”

“Righto!” said a third hiker. “Not many people choose this road—it’s a hard one. Welcome to the team, mate.”

He punched the hiker on the shoulder, who laughed confusedly. “Y-yeah.”

“What made you take this path anyway?” a fourth hiker asked.

The hiker looked over his shoulder at the forest, making eye contact with the deer. He smiled, and the creature gently bowed its head before bounding off into the wilderness. That wouldn’t be the last he saw of the deer—he knew it deep in his heart.

“A friend.”