A menacing piece of rope? Or a string of danger?

Pull one to kill a mythical creature. Stand on one to kill a myth you're telling yourself.

I’m worn, but not clothing. Sometimes I’m direct, other times I’m an excuse to explore.

I stretch through towns where people talk, Past shops and homes, where feet all walk. I guide your steps from dawn till chalk, A steady path, don’t fear the balk. I’m not the street where engines stalk, Nor grassy fields where children frolic and hawk.

You know me best as one of four with thirteen iterations. You might also use me to add to your garden.