He started towards the distant horizon. Wylen stopped when he noticed horse hoof prints leading away from the camp. The prints headed in the same direction, towards the buildings. ‘Well then, wonder if it’s a friend I’ll find?’ He followed the imprints as best he could. He didn’t know why he did as he could plainly see the city before him rising over the horizon.
The lightly trodden pathway gave him a chance to let his mind wander, though, and to try and remember something, anything. How had he got to that camp in the first place? What was that deep throb in the back of his neck and inside his mind? Why was there a constant deep numbing cold no matter how hot the air around him became? Elusive answers to the countless questions he had.