Chapter Four
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HuntingI lagged behind the others, dragged my feet through the deepening snow, the furrows of their passage my guiding tracks. Not that I didn't want to walk beside them, I did, truly, but sometimes a person has no option but to remain apart. This was one of those occasions.
The snow-filled distance became a balm, a salve I applied with liberal strokes, and as oft was my way, my mind wandered. Perhaps it was those feathered snows, perhaps walking away from the light, but the spatial barrier between my compatriots and I became a physical one. If left unchecked, one's sanity whittles away in such solitude like limestone cliffs before the ocean's heaving breaths, an absence of words creating a void filled by nothing other than the realities of life. The eternal melancholy
