The Crossing

The last wolf howl of the night slowly died down, leaving me in absolute silence. The faint crackling of the fire was my only source of warmth and comfort aside from the clothes on my back. Not to mention my only source of light. If there is anything I fear more than not making it past the wooden fence it is being enveloped in the eternal darkness.
How bad did the wolves get me? I looked down at myself. My chest was covered in crimson. A large hole punctured into my stomach, the flesh torn aside mercilessly. A grey tube of intestine was pooling out of it. Not enough, it seemed. I could still walk, but sometimes I literally had to pull myself together.
I limped my way through the brush. I can't stop. I cannot quit now. I have to do this. This is for my wife and for my daughter.
They were waiting for me on the other side.
The morning sun has risen. Time to walk again. A battered and starved dog shied itself away from my path as I pressed forward. How long has it been since I last ate? Hours? Days? None of it mattered. As long as I can still walk.
On to the American Dream.
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