Imagine yourself wandering aimlessly along the sandy trails that frame the Mullica's descent past Atsion and Batsto to the sea. Beguiled by the soft soughing of the breeze in the pines, and lulled into a false sense of security by the gentle, surging flow of the oily brown waters at your feet, you may miss the signs that would, had you paid more attention to them, alert your party to the fact that this is no ordinary day by the river. There are times when the river sleeps, and then there are the times when it does not. On such days the waters call forth the people of the dark woods to celebrate their ancient rites upon its banks. And woe unto you, careless traveler, who find yourself abroad on one of those dark days: The Day of the Tiki Heads.
