A man must struggle to travel home
“Clark, I am beginning to find your supposed truisms disagreeable” said Wallace, leaving the empty tent. He dropped the note on the wet ground and wondered where his travel companion had gone off to this time.
He noticed the previous night’s fire was still burning.
“Clark?” Wallace called out, curious how his friend had managed to keep the flames from extinguishing in the middle of a rainstorm. Wallace hadn’t remembered Clark leaving the tent at all the night before. The inside of the tent itself was dry; if Clark had left to keep the fire going, it seemed almost impossible he’d be able to avoid covering the blue nylon with mud on his way back in.
For a moment, Wallace thought Clark must have woken up early and found some dry kindling for a new fire. The more he looked, though, the harder it was to deny he was staring at the same firewood he’d been staring at several hours ago.
“Besides,” he thought “why would anyone start a fire this early in the day?”
Still, Wallace was wary, especially since, for the first time since waking up, he suddenly remembered he had put out that fire the night before.
Also there was a doctor. He stood amongst the trees, preparing to introduce himself in as dignified a manner as possible.