The Path

The ground made his journey difficult. Though level, the path was covered with jagged rocks. The cool night air left the smoother, larger stones dangerously slick. The moon shone brightly above him. On either side of him towering hills rose quickly vanishing into the darkness at their peaks. Gnarled trees stood dark and menacing on the face of each hill.

The wind howled through the path sending a biting chill through his bones. Tree tops shook and shadows danced around him as dark clouds passed swiftly beneath the moon. A dense fog flowed constantly down each slope, slithering through the trees like serpents. The fog was always there, following him, swallowing him from the waste down, and making it nearly impossible to see the ground that he walked on. He moved very slowly, carefully placing his feet. Pain would shoot through his feet with each misplaced step. He continued, though, trying to ignore the aching and the cuts.

The darkness would play tricks on his eyes. The fog seemed to move strangely around him, as if trying to hide the most dangerous spots in the path. The trees were so mangled and moved with such force from the wind that they seemed to have life, their branches thrashing around him, trying to pull him into the depths of the forest.

It seemed like forever there, walking down the same narrow path. He was exhausted and lost. The only way was forward, through the night. He dared not venture into the forest for fear of what he might find. His thirst and hunger were almost unbearable and with each passing moment he grew more and more weak.

How he made it there he didn't know. At some point he was just there, walking between the ugly trees under the moon. And the path became more dangerous the longer he walked. He tried to remember. Tried to think back to a time before when he wasn't on this terrible journey. There were only glimpses of his life before the endless night and none that he could grab hold of for long. The darkness was an overwhelming weight that he carried with him, slowly breaking him, draining what little energy he had left. There was only ever the light from the moon. The sun never rose and the fog was always lurking. He didn't know where it would lead him but he didn't feel he had any other choice than to keep going.

A gust of wing nearly knocked him to the ground. He stopped. There was another gust of freezing air and he whirled around. It was there, in the wind. The whispers. He'd heard them before. Each time there seemed to be more: many voices flying with the wind through the blackness. He squinted into the forest to try and see someone but the branches blocked his view. He had never seen anyone else but he knew they were there because of the voices. He tried to make out what they were saying but he couldn't concentrate. There were too many, all talking at once, growing louder around him. He pressed his hands tightly over his ears to shut them out but it didn't help. He heard a scream somewhere in the distance. Then another. He could hear the heavy breathing close by, somewhere behind. The deep intake of cold air from a creature somewhere behind him. He spun around, trying to see the things around him. The fog circled beautifully as he moved. More scream. A low, ferocious growl. Tearing and crunching. Breathing. Finally, he collapsed and everything grew distant until at once it all vanished.

A while later he woke, but he didn't open his eyes. He hoped that when he did, everything would be different. That hope lasted only a moment. He could feel the cold fog that was engulfing him and the sharp stones digging into his back. His body still ached and he was still exhausted. In that moment he wanted to give up. He wished for death, to escape from the darkness and misery that he had spent most of his life in. He wanted the end.

He wrestled with those thoughts for quite some time and finally decided that death wasn't the answer. That he couldn't give up. That the path would eventually end and there would be something wonderful waiting for him there. He stood slowly, his young body hurting all over. He took a painful step. Then another. Nothing had changed. The trees still had life. The fog followed him as he moved and the wind blew harder and colder. The voices were still there, sometimes close, sometimes distant. The screams and the creatures hiding in the forest. He feared the path ahead and the things around him. He feared the unknown. He didn't know how much longer he could go, tired, hungry and thirsty. But on he walked, longing for the end to his misery, holding on tightly to his last bit of hope.