A/N: Roland had two choices. Did he choose the right one? As much as I may wish, the Dark Tower isn't mine. This first passage is directly from the book. However, having it here sets the story up. So hopefully I only get kinda, sorta, but not really sued, and not full-fledged sued.
Which way should he walk? He had come from the east; he could not walk west without the powers of a saint or a savior. That left north and south.
That was the answer his heart told. There was no question in it.
The gunslinger began to walk.
-Excerpt from Chapter 3 – The Drawing of the Three
As the gunslinger's limping frame shrank into the northern distance, the stretch of beach where his body and extremities went their separate ways became desolate once again. The gentle offshore breeze lifted minute droplets of ocean-water from the top of the waves. The droplets floated in seeming suspended animation as they drifted lazily toward the beach. However, gravity can't be denied forever. The droplets lower toward the rustling sand whose milling about with their brethren gave off a sound like chatty insects. The droplets moisten the sand where they land, thus momentarily silencing the particular grains' chattering while they wait for the great star in the sky to free them from their sticky confines.
The chattering sand may not be alive, but that doesn't mean that the beach is lifeless. One of the salty droplets lands on a protruding twig the same color as the surrounding sand. The concussive force of the droplet causes the twig to shudder, and the top to open up into a dark orb. The tiny crab the orb is attached to rotates its eye around to scan the surroundings. It can't see the others of its kind, but it can sense their presence. The previous night, the crab and countless hundreds of its brethren sensed the dead flesh of the lobstrosity and hungrily headed toward their feast. Their strong jaws carved every single part of the lobstrosity into nourishment that would sustain the crab colony for weeks.
The crab, satisfied with the lack of movement from its surroundings, began digging itself out of its shallow covering. It instinctively knew that it needed to drink to properly facilitate its digestion. That meant heading to the ocean. As soon as it was fully emerged, it ran full force toward the awaiting waves. The crab knew that it wasn't safe out on the beach. The waves would reach for it, only to back away again like a fickle lover that is prone to teasing. During its constant checking its surroundings for predators, it could finally see others of its kind mimicking the crab's motions. Safety in numbers was a good thing, but it wasn't good to be lax on alertness.
Three meters from the awaiting sea, the crab's worst fears were realized. Suddenly the ground was torn from its feet as it was replaced by sky. Pain seared through its midsection as the huge yellow pincers of a gull firmly grasped the crab's body. The crab struggled as much as it could, but the grasp on it was too great, as was the pain associated with the struggle. The crab resigned to its fate, going limp and drifting off into merciful unconsciousness as the gull flew off to its nest in the south.
A sharp jolt jarred it awake. The crab looked up to see great talons shred through the gull. Just as the gull had found its prey, so had the eagle. The gull's head was ripped completely away from its body in the struggle, and the head started to fall back to the sand. The beak held the crab firm even in death, which was a fortunate occurrence. The beak cradled the crab as the hard ground turned the gulls head into a reddish-gray jelly as the skull and brain split like an egg dropped from a great height. The crab tumbled from the impact force again and again. Finally it landed on its back. Instinctual panic caused the crab to convulse and grasp to right itself. A friendly gust of wind provided enough of a push to finally accomplish the needed goal.
After a few minutes, the dark orbs of the crab emerged once again to observe its surroundings. It spied the remains of the gull. The meal looked especially juicy to it. However, since it had just gorged itself on the lobstrosity, hunger wasn't its top priority. Shelter. The closest shelter the crab could see was a large brown object. The object was two meters tall, with a shiny bulb on one side and strange carvings about two-thirds of the way up. However the crab didn't care about any of that. It was shelter. It scurried as fast as its legs could carry it.
This time no predators came as the crab slid between a horizontal crack near the bottom of the object. As the crab scurried into the crack, the carvings on the object began to glow. The carvings, unbeknownst to the crab, spelled out the phrase 'The Tower' in the human tongue. Confident in its safety, the crab explored its new home. The shelter opened into a brightness. The crab peered out into the brightness to see rows upon rows of red and green plants. A black shape spied off in the distance made the crab instinctively recoil. It would never venture out that far. But look at all of the wonderful food so close by! The crab would never go hungry again.