Sixty-three

Unable to regain control over my thoughts I plop myself in the tall grass and drop my head in my hands. I threw caution to the wind when I took it upon myself to confront Graham. Who is to say that he is loyal to Mason?

I spiral out of control for a good hour before my stomach reminds me that it's still empty, and I'm running on fumes.

My eyes land on a cluster of clover within reach, I rip a handful and stuff it in my mouth hoping that if occupy my mind with something else I might regain some of my sanity. I need it to stay alive.

If I'm going to survive this place, I need to stay sane above all else.

I pluck a few dandelions, avoid some odd-looking spiky plant that I'm not familiar with, and eventually find some marigolds.

It will have to do.

While eating, I allow myself to have a little rest. I can pick some more as I cross the clearing since I ate pretty much every that was within reach.

Using the branch, I push myself to my feet and carry on forward, while I keep an eye on the sky to make sure I haven't strayed while I was in the forest.

For now, that is all I have to guide you in the right direction.

Once I reach the other side of the clearing I find a patch of dirt free of any vegetation and draw a circle to mark it with twelve and six.

I need to know how many hours of daylight I have left since I need to find cover for the night.

The rudimentary clock shows approximately four thirty in the afternoon. So I have a few more hours before the sun sets.

With that in mind, I decided to stay close to the clearing and settle somewhere at the edge of it for the night.

Hopefully, I can start a fire to keep the beasts away.

With my plan made I begin to collect dry twigs that have fallen to the ground, and a the same time find a tree that has a dense canopy just in case the weather turns.

After about an hour of wandering through the forest, I find enough wood to keep the fire going through the night and a tree that offers enough cover in case it rains.

With my pockets heavy with flowers and rocks I settle at the base of the tree and arrange the twigs in front of me like a tent.

Using the rocks, I shave some wood off one of the thicker pieces of wood so I can start the fire more easily.

I know it will take a while before I can feel warmth, but it is worth the wait.

Once everything is in place, I pull out the two river rocks I've collected and begin hitting them against each other.

The smoother the surface the faster it heats, creating sparks, that hopefully will kindle my fire.

It takes a good thirty minutes of continuously hitting the rocks, at this point my arms ache but I need fire more, so I grit my teeth and push forward.

The stones in my hand are hot enough to feel the heat warm my skin, a promise of what is expected of me once I succeed.

Sparks begin to fly fueling my hope, just as daylight wanes further and further away.

Bringing the stones closer to the shavings, I begin hitting them, the sound of stone hitting stone echoing all around me, drowning out the birds singing and the droning of insects.

A few land on the shavings with no luck, so I carry on, hitting the rocks harder and harder. Just as the biggest spark lands onto the shavings of wood, one of the rocks splits into two. I want to scream with joy but I don't have time for a happy dance, nor can dance in my condition. So, I lean forward and begin to gently blow in the glowing ember that winks at me, holding the promise of a warm night.

Smoke rises in front of me just as the shavings catch fire, and I push them under the tented twigs and watch in amazement the miracle of fire.

I briefly wonder if that's how the first humans that ever made fire felt. Because I felt proud of my accomplishment.

Slowly, I build it up, by adding thicker pieces of wood, until it's roaring in front of me. The blazing heat seeps into my bones, making me weary, and drowsy.

Pilling up the wood between myself and the fire, to have it handy overnight I curl up on the floor and stare at the fire.

The smouldering embers rise into the canopy of trees, and I can't help but worry about the sparks flying everywhere.

I just hope I won't set the entire forest on fire.

I sleep as well one can sleep when it's in the middle of the forest, hungry and overall wiped. It's not the most restful sleep but I do feel slightly better when I wake at the crack of dawn.

As much as I'd like to linger near the clearing, I need to keep on moving on and find my way out of the forest.

Kicking up some dirt over the glowing embers, I begin my trek through the forest, hobbling like the crippled person that I am.

I need medicinal herbs to treat the deepest wounds.

It takes me a good while to advance through the forest, since I keep stopping to mark trees, and pile stones here and there.

I find a few medicinal herbs, but not enough to patch up one wound.

I munch on the wilting flowers, and leaves I have stashed in my pocket, to appease my rumbling stomach. It's not enough, but it could be worse.

Thankfully the forest is big enough for all the wild animals, and me to exist in the same space without crossing paths.

I see them among the trees, peering at me from behind the trees, or leafy vegetation, but they do not come near. I'm an intruder in this case. Can't say that I'm offended by their lack of hospitality.