Down the mountain I must go. My body needs water. My grand father s advice calmed me as I pulled hooks out of my arm and backed up slowly to release the vines from my backpack and clothing. My body is raw and itching with bites and scratches. It seems every plant and animal s purpose is to tear and eat my flesh.
Life feeds on life.
Nature is not always nice. How glorious I must look on this pile of rocks, huddled under a small tree for shade on a nightmare mountain-side laberynth of sleep cliffs, vines like barbed wire and other plants with tiny spines that sting. They are hard as marbles. Fear is hell. The scenery around me at this moment is awesome.