The forest felt endless. Every step Noah took was a battle against his own body, a grueling test of will that he was terrified he might lose.
He was weary, his muscles aching with a deep, throbbing exhaustion that seemed to settle into his very bones.
Hunger was no longer just a sharp pang in his stomach; it had become a dull, hollow ache that made his head light and his vision swim.
But the hunger was nothing compared to the agony of his leg. The injury was severe, and every time he shifted his weight to move forward, a hot flare of pain shot up his spine, making his breath hitch in his throat.
He could only walk one agonizing step at a time, dragging himself through the thick underbrush.
He knew he had no other choice. To stop moving was to give up, and despite the overwhelming odds against him, Noah was not ready to die in the forest.
