Sixty-three

Leaning my weight against the cliff, to ease off my bad leg, I wait for daylight to break. Only I can stand only for so long in the same position before my muscles begin to cramp.

My good leg is the first to go, and I have to bite on my cheek hard enough to draw blood to be able to suppress the urge to throw myself on the floor, curl up and cry.

Once again I'm reminded of my limits, and I can't help that at times like this I'm more human than anything else.

I suppose this where I'm reminded that I'm partly human. My father was one. Why would I be any better?

Deep breathing helps to a certain extent to keep my mind off the pain by focusing on something else a little more productive.

When my back seizes, stealing my breaths with the intensity of the pain, I can't stifle the whimper that crawls up my throat, anymore.

I blink away the tears because I don't have the luxury to cry and reprise the breathing exercises.

Eventually, slowly but surely all my muscles begin to seize one at a time so much so that I struggle to keep straight. Just as dawn crawls over the land, my body finally gives in and I lose the battle with myself.

I collapse and roll off the cliff, my other leg catches on a sharp rock, adding yet another injury.

All I can do is watch, as I spin aimlessly in the air, I hit a few leafy branches on my way down. They do slow down my descent but it also beats me down like nobody ever has.

Thankfully, I land on soft, with a muffled thunk.

I'm grateful, but at the same time, I'm too tired to celebrate or complain about all the aches and pains. So I contently lie there, looking up at the darkened cliff, and I can't help but feel amazed that I survived climbing down. It is grotesquely high. Higher than anything I've ever seen. It goes on forever. From where I'm lying on the floor it looks as if it touches the sky.

Musty scent clings to my nostrils, and I know what cushioned my fall. Mulch, out of all the things on this earth, I landed on mulch.

I haven't moved an inch when the sun finally rises. Not that I don't want to, it's just that I don't think I can.

So instead of embarking on my new adventure, I take the time to rest and gather some strength.

I know, I need to find water and food. Hopefully, the forest is more abundant than the barren valley I left behind.

The wild animals are my only companions since I'm so deep into the woods but that's a problem for later.

Slowly, I drift off to sleep. It's not the most restful sleep I've had, but it's something.

I embrace the cooling breeze that sweeps over the forest, the gentle rustle of the leaves, and the musty scent mingled with fire, and I'm grateful that I'm alive.

I come to somewhere in the afternoon feeling slightly refreshed, and mildly better. Still hungry, thirsty and in pain, but that is something I can only tackle one at a time.

Sitting up, I examine the new addition to my other leg, rip off a strip of my trousers to cover it and do the same with the other one. Thankfully the bleeding has stopped, and all that is left is an open wound covered in dried flaking blood.

Once that is done, I look around to find fallen branches that I could use as crutches.

I find one not far from where I'm sitting. It will have to do for now.

On wobbly legs, I stumble to the tree pick up the branch, clean the little twigs sticking out, and rip a good chunk out of my top to cover one end to keep it from digging into my armpit.

Woods are difficult to navigate. Their general layout and thick vegetation make it awfully deceptive. If from where I stood on the cliff, I wasn't able to see any buildings or any kind of human settlement then that must mean that I was out in the sticks.

With my cardinal points marked, I begin to go south. Wherever I am is north.

It will take me days if not weeks to find my way out of the forest, so I begin to mark the trees I'm passing to avoid going in circles. Since the forest is right at the foot of the cliff, there are plenty of rocks to use as a landmark.

So every so often, I stop to mark the tree and make a distinctive landmark. One that I can easily distinguish among all that vegetation.

First I need to find water., so I keep my eye peeled, hoping to find a spring or a stream but when I don't find one, I resort to the second best option. Trees.

Picking up a sharp rock, I find a tree with soft bark and begin to carve into it, hoping to draw out some sap. It doesn't just quench thirst, but it provides a few key minerals and vitamins. And I'm desperate for both. Bonus, it's already filtered.

Once I get past the tree bark, a drop of sap blooms on the white flesh of the tree, and I gulp it down. It's not much, but is more than I had, so it is good enough.

It doesn't fill me like a glass of water would but it helps soothe my parched throat and alleviate the hunger, just a smidge.

I follow the same pattern, as I continue my trek through the forest until I reach a clearing filled with flowers in bloom. It's too early for any wild berries, but the right flowers can be consumed.

Stepping into the clearing, I begin my search for familiar edible flowers. I wouldn't leave it to chance and eat something I know nothing of, so I look for dandelion, clovers, marigolds, and chicory.

My throat closes up when chicory comes to mind. Mason.

Chicory always reminded me of his eyes. I've done everything to keep myself from the m thinking of him, and now that I have I can't stop it. The dam is broken, and I can't help the deluge that follows.

Is he looking for me? Does he know I'm stranded in the middle of nowhere?

The questions pour in unfiltered, unfettered. I don't have the strength to block them out or deviate to keep myself alert.