the sun. The winds picked up and the temperatures started to drop quickly. After a short while, little white snowflakes started falling from the sky.
“A snowstorm in Pentay?” Gentry could not believe it. He knew he must stop his hike and take shelter fast. There was a little rocky overhang nearby that provided some shelter. Unfortunately he had no means to start a fire, so he bundled up in some blankets and watched as the snow covered the ground around him. His stomach started to rumble, but Gentry was so cold he did not dare expose his poor hands to the elements in order to search his bag for food. So his hands remained under the blankets, and his hunger went unsatisfied. The snowstorm was showing no sign of letting up any time soon. Hungry and cold, Gentry eventually fell asleep under the overhang.
By the time he awoke the next morning, the storm had blown through but the path was covered by nearly a foot of snow. What had already been slow going was about to become much worse. Gentry was disheartened, but after filling his stomach with some stale bread he had a bit more energy and was ready to tackle the trail again. The snow definitely made it a challenge to follow the path, but eventually Gentry grew more comfortable with his footing and he started to make decent time, all things considered.
He came around a bend in the trail and his heart fell at the sight of yet another three-way split. He had no way of telling if it was the same split or a different one as the small rock he had carved into the day before was now buried under snow somewhere, assuming it was there at all.
Gentry was concerned on many levels. Otto had mentioned the journey should be about four days, and Gentry was already into his fifth day of hiking. There was no sign of the castle, he had no idea if he was going in circles or not, and his food supply was quickly becoming scarce. “Well, the path to the left has not been kind to me, so this time I shall take the center path instead,” he said aloud before heading up the trail.
Things looked different and yet they looked the same, and still there was no sign of Lady Dinah or her castle. Gentry hiked for hours, only stopping for a few minutes at a time to rest his aching legs and nibble on some bread. When he reached the top of a steep hill he nearly cried out in agony, but not because of his pain. Up ahead, the trail split into three again.
He looked in vain for evidence of his footsteps in the snow-covered trail, but none were to be found. Either he had never been there before or the wind, which had been rather gusty all day, had long since covered up his tracks. Gentry knew he did not have much daylight left so he decided to camp out at the split. It was another cold night as he did not have any wood for a fire, but he was grateful that the snow was no longer falling. He had a single piece of bread left. He fell asleep with a hungry stomach, preferring to save the final morsel for the following day when he would require more strength.
The next morning the sun remained veiled behind a thick fog as Gentry traveled along the path to the right. His feet ached with each step but somehow he forced himself to go on. He hiked for hours in the fog, only able to see about twenty feet ahead of him at any given time. He was growing weaker and weaker with all the hiking and insufficient food, and his rest periods were gradually growing longer and longer. “Just a few more steps, Gentry,” he urged himself on, “and you shall have the last of the bread.”
He made it another hundred yards or so before collapsing to his knees. For the first time on this trip, Gentry’s eyes filled with tears and he started to sob. Before him, in the haze of the fog, Gentry could see that the trail split into three separate paths again. Exhausted and defeated, Gentry’s body sank into the snow with the quiver and arrows falling about him.
“I am sorry I failed you, Father. I am sorry I failed the Elders. I am sorry
“A snowstorm in Pentay?” Gentry could not believe it. He knew he must stop his hike and take shelter fast. There was a little rocky overhang nearby that provided some shelter. Unfortunately he had no means to start a fire, so he bundled up in some blankets and watched as the snow covered the ground around him. His stomach started to rumble, but Gentry was so cold he did not dare expose his poor hands to the elements in order to search his bag for food. So his hands remained under the blankets, and his hunger went unsatisfied. The snowstorm was showing no sign of letting up any time soon. Hungry and cold, Gentry eventually fell asleep under the overhang.
By the time he awoke the next morning, the storm had blown through but the path was covered by nearly a foot of snow. What had already been slow going was about to become much worse. Gentry was disheartened, but after filling his stomach with some stale bread he had a bit more energy and was ready to tackle the trail again. The snow definitely made it a challenge to follow the path, but eventually Gentry grew more comfortable with his footing and he started to make decent time, all things considered.
He came around a bend in the trail and his heart fell at the sight of yet another three-way split. He had no way of telling if it was the same split or a different one as the small rock he had carved into the day before was now buried under snow somewhere, assuming it was there at all.
Gentry was concerned on many levels. Otto had mentioned the journey should be about four days, and Gentry was already into his fifth day of hiking. There was no sign of the castle, he had no idea if he was going in circles or not, and his food supply was quickly becoming scarce. “Well, the path to the left has not been kind to me, so this time I shall take the center path instead,” he said aloud before heading up the trail.
Things looked different and yet they looked the same, and still there was no sign of Lady Dinah or her castle. Gentry hiked for hours, only stopping for a few minutes at a time to rest his aching legs and nibble on some bread. When he reached the top of a steep hill he nearly cried out in agony, but not because of his pain. Up ahead, the trail split into three again.
He looked in vain for evidence of his footsteps in the snow-covered trail, but none were to be found. Either he had never been there before or the wind, which had been rather gusty all day, had long since covered up his tracks. Gentry knew he did not have much daylight left so he decided to camp out at the split. It was another cold night as he did not have any wood for a fire, but he was grateful that the snow was no longer falling. He had a single piece of bread left. He fell asleep with a hungry stomach, preferring to save the final morsel for the following day when he would require more strength.
The next morning the sun remained veiled behind a thick fog as Gentry traveled along the path to the right. His feet ached with each step but somehow he forced himself to go on. He hiked for hours in the fog, only able to see about twenty feet ahead of him at any given time. He was growing weaker and weaker with all the hiking and insufficient food, and his rest periods were gradually growing longer and longer. “Just a few more steps, Gentry,” he urged himself on, “and you shall have the last of the bread.”
He made it another hundred yards or so before collapsing to his knees. For the first time on this trip, Gentry’s eyes filled with tears and he started to sob. Before him, in the haze of the fog, Gentry could see that the trail split into three separate paths again. Exhausted and defeated, Gentry’s body sank into the snow with the quiver and arrows falling about him.
“I am sorry I failed you, Father. I am sorry I failed the Elders. I am sorry
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