Wil remebered something. Was it from his past? Lloyd from a place called Lincoln in the UK. A long trek at a camp in Michigan. Circle Pines? So tired then but Lloyd had been a help. Physically and mentally. He needed another Lloyd but knew that wasn't possible now.
Wil forced himself to hands and knees. So far but he could see it now. A goal that might be in sight. No energy to stand. So he crawled. One inch at a time. Forward. Always forward.
Reaching the saddle brought temporary relief. He looked behind and could just make out the forest thru the swirling, dark clouds. How he made it this far alone puzzled him. Time and again he was ready to just give up.
Ahead also lay another great expanse. But instead of tumbled trees and jagged rock, it was rolling hills and he could see a lake or ocean off in the distance.
Wil rested for a bit more then started down. The way was easy. Not a trail but soft short grass. Bright green.
The hours passed and Wil again began to tire. Although the way was easier, he covered more ground. Driven to reach the far off shore.
The sunlight began to fade as the moon rose above the horizon. It would be dark soon but with the light of the moon Wil could continue on. He trudged along. So tired. So in need of rest.
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