





The path forked hours ago yet still no signposts appear. Did I take a wrong turn at the mossy boulder back there? These winding trails all look the same now. The sun sinks lower in the purple bruise of sky. Darkness will soon swallow the landscape. My feet ache, my stomach growls. Panic rises as the last light dims. I wanted adventure but not utter loss. Each rustle in the brush makes me flinch. Will morning ever come? I long for the familiar once more. But for now, I’m forced to make camp here, in this nameless place, suspended between where I’ve been and where I’m headed.