The silence of the woods was broken momentarily by the sound of light footsteps, fresh legs moving him along the path while the sun was still asleep. He didn’t mind walking in darkness for a while if it meant getting to the next town before the sun went to bed. The days were shorter this time of year, so he needed as much of a head start as possible. Menacing dark grey clouds, pregnant with precipitation, loomed over him. Moist dirt and leaves, mixed with the smoke of the fires of the last row of homes in town, filled his nostrils.
The thick canopy provided some cover from the few drops falling on him, but it wouldn’t be enough. The plan for the day was simple: walk from point A to point B, find a place to get a hot meal and rest, wake up the next day, and do it again. His fresh legs slowly turned heavy after a rapid succession of hills, the ups and downs of his journey taxing his body and mind–a sense of accomplishment at the top, followed by defeat and self-doubt at the bottom, over and over again.
He kept his head down and carried on until the path was gone. Then, he pulled a tattered map from his pack and studied it intently. By his calculations, he should be close to his destination, but trees were all he could see no matter where he looked. Mud clung to his boots and staff, and a cold drop of water ran from the crown of his head down his neck. Going back was not an option.
The wind slapped him in the face and carried his map away, not that it would’ve been helpful. He carried on aimlessly, stopping occasionally to look for landmarks or signs of life. The drip drip drip of the rain grew bigger; kamikaze drops launching at him. It felt personal. He cursed the rain in vain and asked for a truce. The clouds made way for a sliver of blue sky and some faint rays of sunshine. He heard what sounded like bells, and over the horizon, a cross appeared. Salvation was near.
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