Days bled into one another, a monotonous march through the verdant obstacles. We four, a silent quartet, navigated the treacherous terrain, our words as scarce as water in a desert. Only the primal needs of rest and sustenance broke the oppressive silence. The tranquility, however, was a fragile illusion, shattered by Easton's petulant complaints. He railed against our endless wandering, demanding a return to the familiar, a place where the only struggle was against our own limitations. Aiden and Calix, weary of his ceaseless whining, retorted with biting sarcasm, reducing him to a child with their scornful words.