breaks. I could tend to my mangled foot when I found what it was looking for, anything.
It’s day five. The forest is a funny thing. It’s having an impact on me that I didn’t think was possible. There was no quiet, no place to hide. Animals flocked around me, scraping for food and clinging to survival. I was truly at home, just a rat trying to stave of death. I had completely lost his tracks, now I was again aimlessly walking once again. The only thing I found comfort in now was the fact that my rations would be gone in three days. There was no more light in my life, just the prospect of seeing the twinkle in my daughter’s eye kept me going, even if the path to that was death.
It’s day six. He’s here. As I rise, his eyes pierce my soul, grinding my resolve to dust. He didn’t have my daughter’s twinkle. He didn’t have her shine. The same man who gave me hope now looked at me with killer intent, freezing my body, stopping my dying heart. He examined my condition, taking mental notes while keeping a close eye on both my hands. He grabbed my hand and lifted me to my feet, never letting me break contact with his eyes. His muscular face gripped his mouth and eyes, stretching them into wrinkled flaps. His mouth teased me, opening and closing as if he were going to say something, but he never did. My faith in his English speaking abilities were low. I think he was as lost as I was. I was covered in filth, my clothes reduced to blood stained fabric while vomit covered the entirety of my body. What was he going to do with me? He continued to stare. By this point, I wanted him to help me or kill me. The way I was living right now was torture. I felt nothing, only hunger and thirst. Any trace of Dan Graceon was gone. What stood before this man was an animal, cold, callous, and hungry.
It's day seven. Still no words. We walked together, just a few feet away but miles apart. At some points, I questioned whether he knew where he was going. He never stopped, driving forward with a will I didn’t seem to have. Did he have a family? Did he have someone to come home to? I began to think of a backstory for him during our walks together. Maybe he is a native, serving his tribe out in the forest. Maybe he is as lost as I am. Maybe he wants to be.