That makes sense. It is warm enough during the day and not too cold at night although he hasn’t really stopped moving so he sort of ignored the temperature so far. But the longer he is here, the worse conditions could get. He may be forced to hide during the day if the temperatures get too hot.
He’s been lucky so far when it comes to insects, and wonders where the black flies and mosquitoes are, constant companions the last time he stayed overnight in the woods. Not that he’s complaining or anything. Being a snack for ravenous bloodsuckers while running from the hunters would just add another level of hell to his situation. But it also reminds him just how controlled this whole thing feels.
Reid glances up at the clear blue sky and wonders how long the weather could hold. Rain would also make his life more miserable than it already is, although he takes it as a good sign he is even thinking about his surroundings and not totally focused on just putting one foot in front of the other.
He considers the food he has left, wondering if he should ration it further before shrugging to himself. Now or later, he needs the energy. He polishes off the last power bar and the final swish from the water bottle. The wrapper he hides under a rock, but the empty plastic container he tucks into one of his pockets. The river he spotted below is probably fed by the stream he encountered, and that means fresh water. He will need a container to store some in just in case the hunters chased him off for the second time. His thirst demands he find a way to never go without again.
Reid moves on, keeping to the east, which means climbing. He is relieved he hasn’t heard any hunter’s howls for a while and wonders if they ever sleep. He’s not exactly feeling safe, but as the climb gets harder he admits he is dead on his feet and needs to find somewhere to rest. It’s either that or pass out where he stands and make himself a ripe target.
Easier said than done. Reid starts looking, not for pursuers but a hidey-hole he can use, even for a few hours of rest. Tucking into the shrubbery worked fine in the dark, but in daylight he’s not so sure. Besides, the undergrowth has thinned and he’s having a hard time finding a place that would conceal all of him.
Reid considers a tall tree, the lower branches just within his reach, but quickly discards the idea. He would have to climb too high to be safe and out of notice, so high that if he fell he would definitely be hurt. He doesn’t have rope or anything else to tie himself to the tree, so climbing is out.
The idea of breaking a leg or suffering a concussion is enough to drive him onward.
As for building his own shelter, Reid decides to leave that as a last resort. It would take a great deal of time and precious energy to gather the materials he needs. Even then he isn’t sure he would feel comfortable trusting something he built. Had his father been with him, with his mad survival skills handed down from his father… but Reid is on his own.
He continues for another few minutes, sneakers sliding over brown spruce needles and damp moss before he spots what looks like a gap in the rock face ahead. He is fairly high by now, the cliff he stands on allowing him a better view of the world below. He pauses, panting, and has a good look around, so self conscious about exposing himself he tucks behind a tree and only pokes out his face.
Everything is very green in the new light of day, softly hazy to the west where a thin line of fog hugs the edge of the valley. A strip of gray winds its way in the distance, sparkling objects speeding by. The interstate. He tears his eyes from it. There’s no hope there, he knows it, but at least he’s found that edge of the fence again, giving him some perspective on how far he’s come. He’s actually amazed by the distance he has covered and how high he has climbed.
The scene is so peaceful and surreal, Reid wants to scream. Under the thin veneer of
He’s been lucky so far when it comes to insects, and wonders where the black flies and mosquitoes are, constant companions the last time he stayed overnight in the woods. Not that he’s complaining or anything. Being a snack for ravenous bloodsuckers while running from the hunters would just add another level of hell to his situation. But it also reminds him just how controlled this whole thing feels.
Reid glances up at the clear blue sky and wonders how long the weather could hold. Rain would also make his life more miserable than it already is, although he takes it as a good sign he is even thinking about his surroundings and not totally focused on just putting one foot in front of the other.
He considers the food he has left, wondering if he should ration it further before shrugging to himself. Now or later, he needs the energy. He polishes off the last power bar and the final swish from the water bottle. The wrapper he hides under a rock, but the empty plastic container he tucks into one of his pockets. The river he spotted below is probably fed by the stream he encountered, and that means fresh water. He will need a container to store some in just in case the hunters chased him off for the second time. His thirst demands he find a way to never go without again.
Reid moves on, keeping to the east, which means climbing. He is relieved he hasn’t heard any hunter’s howls for a while and wonders if they ever sleep. He’s not exactly feeling safe, but as the climb gets harder he admits he is dead on his feet and needs to find somewhere to rest. It’s either that or pass out where he stands and make himself a ripe target.
Easier said than done. Reid starts looking, not for pursuers but a hidey-hole he can use, even for a few hours of rest. Tucking into the shrubbery worked fine in the dark, but in daylight he’s not so sure. Besides, the undergrowth has thinned and he’s having a hard time finding a place that would conceal all of him.
Reid considers a tall tree, the lower branches just within his reach, but quickly discards the idea. He would have to climb too high to be safe and out of notice, so high that if he fell he would definitely be hurt. He doesn’t have rope or anything else to tie himself to the tree, so climbing is out.
The idea of breaking a leg or suffering a concussion is enough to drive him onward.
As for building his own shelter, Reid decides to leave that as a last resort. It would take a great deal of time and precious energy to gather the materials he needs. Even then he isn’t sure he would feel comfortable trusting something he built. Had his father been with him, with his mad survival skills handed down from his father… but Reid is on his own.
He continues for another few minutes, sneakers sliding over brown spruce needles and damp moss before he spots what looks like a gap in the rock face ahead. He is fairly high by now, the cliff he stands on allowing him a better view of the world below. He pauses, panting, and has a good look around, so self conscious about exposing himself he tucks behind a tree and only pokes out his face.
Everything is very green in the new light of day, softly hazy to the west where a thin line of fog hugs the edge of the valley. A strip of gray winds its way in the distance, sparkling objects speeding by. The interstate. He tears his eyes from it. There’s no hope there, he knows it, but at least he’s found that edge of the fence again, giving him some perspective on how far he’s come. He’s actually amazed by the distance he has covered and how high he has climbed.
The scene is so peaceful and surreal, Reid wants to scream. Under the thin veneer of
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