Forever Close My Eyes (Day 57)

The sun was high in the sky now, relieving somewhat the effects of the air's chill on his battered and bruised body. He'd made good progress across the valley although he had no idea how long it would take to get to the other side, or if even another side existed. For all he knew he'd just stumbled onto a drastic decrease in elevation and he was well on his way to the Coramni Plains. Never in his life had he been so completely lost, both physically and mentally. His continued persistence to keep moving was almost stubborn. As much as he might want to, he refused to just lie down and die.

To his intense displeasure, he found himself more often lost in thought. He didn't want to think about what happened, but if he was going to live on (at least for a little while longer) it was inevitable that he confront his demons. As fresh and raw as his mental wounds were, he wondered if he should make haste in making peace with his actions. His days were numbered; he held no illusions that he had the ability to survive for long periods of time out in the wilderness. He was not an adventurer like his brother. His affinity for literature and art would do him no good here. If he had followed in his brother's footsteps, he might be able to make a comfortable living out here, living off the land. It was a romantic idea, but the man hadn't the faintest idea how to make it happen.

When he had set out, he strode with purpose, but now his gait was aimless and unsure. He was so far away from home now that it seemed pointless to keep running. What was he hoping to find out in the woods? He wasn't so naive as to believe he would find a shelter out in this untamed wilderness, where even animals were sparse. For the first time since departing his home, the man felt the knife edge of panic cutting through his subconscious. As little as he might want to return home, it would have been comforting if he even had the option. But he didn't. He was too far gone now; he was lost.