by crow » 11/08/2014 7:15 AM
Worst of all, as he looked around in vain for any sign of the camp, he caught sight of more white thread wound around the trees--- this way, that way. All around him, the trees seemed to be tangled in floss. Whatever it was that was hunting him, he no longer felt himself capable of escaping it. With a weary sigh, he sank to the ground where he was. His legs felt spent of all their use, as if he could not take another step with them even if he had the will to try.
“Sorry, dad. Gramps. I guess this is the end of our line, hey? Pretty damn pathetic, but I did my best.” If his ancestors cared for him or his journey at all, they'd intervene now and save him, but he wasn't counting on anything like that.
51, 27, 24