A few weeks later on my off day, I decided to go for another hike.
I spent the entire drive there squirming in my seat in anticipation, hoping I'd be able to spot...and of course play with...some more slimes.
So of course I was disappointed when I got there and found a sign posted saying that particular trail was closed off due to a landslide.
I doubled back, down to the main path, and took another trail.
Maybe, I wondered, I could go down to the creek and try to find a secluded area and some water slimes...or maybe, if I went deeper into the woods, to where it was quieter, I might even be able to find tree slimes.
Buoyed up by the promise of squishy fun, I hurried down the path, checking my map every now and then.
The forest was beautiful, late-morning sunlight streaming through the trees, and birds calling back and forth. It was quiet; I didn't hear a single other hiker or camper, though I passed a vacant campsite with the remains of a recent-looking fire in the fire pit, and the trashcan still full.
It had rained the night before, so the ground was still wet in some places, and the earth was giving off the clean smell of petrichor and pine trees, and the hike was quickly turning into a beautiful event in and of itself.
And then I found the ruins.
Of course I knew they were there; everyone knew they were there. I'd heard, over the years, that it was everything from an ancient temple dedicated to some forgotten deity, to a place where devil-worshippers went to perform ritual sacrifices. I'd been equally terrified, and curious about, of the place as a kid; there was something just innately scary about a beautiful old building that was clearly long-abandoned.
But now, as an adult, I looked at it in the daylight and felt completely neutral.
The 'building' was actually carved directly into the granite face of a large, rising cliff. Between two pillars carved with ancient reliefs of deer and tall grasses, the empty doorway seemed to yawn open.
Thousands of years ago, people had lived in the forest. Every now and then, a burial mound or carved ceremonial stone would turn up; or some hikers would find the foundations of a building, or something. Then the government would send historians, who would assess it, put up a plaque, and have a ceremony about it...and then everyone would just get used to it, seeing it as something so old it was permanent, even if we didn't even know what it was. It was a nice feeling, sometimes, being right next to such old, old things.
The floor inside was made of triangular granite tiles, dark and light, arranged in a repetitive pattern over the floor. The walls were carved gray stone, and smoothed over many years to a dull, soft gloss by the touch of untold numbers of hands. The entry hall was surprisingly light and airy: when I turned around, I could see there were actually tall, narrow triangular 'windows' cut into the stone, very high up.
I pulled out my phone, snapped some pictures, and then continued in.
The ruins were pleasantly warm, compared to the breezy forest outside, so after awhile I took off my jacket and tied it around my waist. There was also a mild humidity in the air, and a faint smell, almost like shampoo.
I paused, hoping no one was squatting there and I wasn't about to walk in on someone taking a bath in an oil-drum or anything. But when I stood still and listened, the place was completely silent.
After that, I calmed back down. I spent a long while just wandering around, admiring the stonework. Here and there, about six feet up, there were carved reliefs showing all the ancient peoples apparently walking down the same hall...and stripping out of their clothes. I wondered if maybe the place was some kind of ancient sex temple.
I snickered. Maybe if it was, I could ask the deity for a slime. Or an orgasm.
Someone had carved crude modern graffiti penises underneath a section of mural showing people clearly washing their private parts; I had to snicker, not least because the thousand-year-old dick carvings were much, much better than the recent ones, but because several other people seemed to have thought so, too...the modern graffiti had been scratched and chipped through in several places.
But seeing the naked people only reminded me of the goal of my quest...which was to find, and fool around with, a slime. Several slimes, I added mentally, if I was lucky.
I kept walking, passing a few large, empty chambers, one of which had hexagonal cubbyholes carved in the walls, and grooves in the floor where benches must have once stood: these looked like some kind of ancient locker-room or changing room.
Finally, I turned a corner and saw a huge stone archway stretching upwards, carved again with more beautiful reliefs of nature designs.
Through the elaborately-carved stone doorway I found a huge pool of steaming water, in the middle of the high, round chamber.
Suddenly the shampoo smell made perfect sense. It was a hot spring! The place must have been a bathhouse, in ancient times...and someone must have sneaked in there and taken a bath, only a little while before I got there.
"Well, whoever you are," I said, "I'll keep your secret if you keep mine..."