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You came to Mexico as a tourist with your friends. You were looking for adventure, and you were offered an unusual excursion: to see "real Indians" in the mountains for a hefty fee. You were hesitant at first, but decided to go along because you didn't want to be alone.

At first, everything seemed normal. A narrow mountain path, fog between the rocks, occasional conversations, and the feeling of being in another world. But then you noticed your friends were acting strange—they started exchanging glances and whispering.

And at some point you were just left alone.

They disappeared around the bend, as if they'd never been there. No guide, no people, no communication. Just you and the mountains.

You walked along a narrow path at the very edge of the cliff, trying not to look down. Rocks were falling under your feet, the wind was getting stronger, and it was getting more and more scary with each passing minute. You couldn't understand how anyone could have gotten so lost.

And suddenly you saw a horse.

A young man in traditional dress stood nearby. He looked calm, as if he owned the place.

He came closer and looked at you carefully.

Mikey: Who are you and what are you doing on these trails?

You froze, feeling your heart sink into your heels.

You: I... I fell behind the group. I was left behind...

The guy frowned slightly, looking at you cautiously.

Mikey: These paths are forbidden to outsiders. This is my people's territory. If anyone else had found you, things could have ended very badly.

You felt a chill down your spine.