I’m too old for this. The training of The Flower helps, but each mile, each hour, each standing, each sitting rests heavy on these old, old bones.
Horses were a bad idea. I have traveled miles and miles over the years searching and gathering, most of them by the power of my own two feet, but, when one is in a hurry, horses can be a blessing. Not this time.
I was in such a hurry, the Red Eyes upon us, surrounded by such youth and enthusiasm, I pushed. Pushed too hard. Pushed past my own body’s endurance. After the first day of hard riding I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t get back up on the horse. Sure, I told them my horse was lame, that I needed to rest. Sure, they nodded and allowed me the delusion, they are an odd bunch, but they are good and kind at heart. Even the demon child.
For my pride and impatience I am paying with a delay of two days of travel. Two days closer to the end of the world. Two days less that I have to figure out the puzzles before me.
I’m too old for this.