Griffin looked down at the ground in front of him as he walked, and felt it become softer and muddier.
He delightedly skipped through the mud, enjoying the pure simpleness of his happiness, refusing to look up but focused on the ground before him, as if it were making the moment last longer.
He soon noticed new footprints engraved into the mud suddenly appear, and stopped walking for some reason he wasn't sure of, unnwanting to ruin the footprints which lay before him.
He observed them introspectively, curious as to whose they belonged to. Griffin looked back at his own footprints; these were larger, more defined.
And then he stood back and wondered:
were these footprints leading me somewhere?
Was it his designed fate to follow these simple steps forward?
Or could he go backwards?... unless pushing on was his only choice.
Maybe there was somebody right behind him, following his exact footprints as he was now.
He desperately wanted to follow the footsteps and see where he would end up, but maybe he wasn't supposed to follow these footsteps at all, and create his own path in entirety.

His decisions made him who he was, and although there might be a path specifically drawn for him, it didn't mean he was destined to follow it.