The Heartwood stray bullet

@Lio

Morning breath combined with the taste of last night's meal. He smacks his lips, makes a baleful face. He had made his way through a mountain range and was being welcomed on the other side by the grim corpse of a forest. 

Every day he grew more doubtful of himself, his limits. He would check the surfaces of flat ice, and watch himself grow thinner. With every step he took, he wasn't sure if he was clinging onto life or digging another inch deeper into his grave. If he tripped and fell off-course, that was a calorie wasted. Everytime he leapt at a bird and missed, was that an entire day crossed off from his lifespan?

He walks through the snow. He is aware of something near him, perhaps a deer or two, blurred figures in slow motion wandering the mass of gray and white.

He walks as if guided by something, his vision trained on a pinpoint miles ahead. As if all along there had been a scheme, a destination.