Skeletal Hill i want more more more

The first small skull, bleached white by years of sun and speared through the eye socket by the twig it hung from, had been assumed some funny fluke of nature. Perhaps an owl had dropped a chunk of it's kill, or even coughed up it's pellet from up high, and chance had decided to show off. It'd been a minor fascination, taken a few minutes of his life, and then Scully had moved on.

Then he found the second, with a third and fourth within view. A thrill crept up his spine as he recognized them not as red flags, but the dotted lines of a treasure map. Someone had done this on purpose, and it had to lead somewhere amazing, one of a kind, momentous. With glee he pressed forward, pursing the trail toward it's heart.