Huston did not know where he was going. He always had the impression in school that he was particularly adept at directionality but he realized, as they walked for days that edged into weeks, that he was not. He knew, at least, that they were not headed backward. They would not end up back in Hillston. He just did not know where they would end up. If anywhere. As time ticked by, he found himself mourning often. He was certain that at some point they would die. And Huston found it difficult to have that weight on his shoulders. It would only be by some godly grace or some intangible stroke of luck that they would find themselves somewhere safe.

He kept it to himself, though, and was confident in guiding Feld. Whenever multiple paths were presented to them, he made the choice quickly as though he knew the direction they were headed. He did not want Feld to lose faith. A few times and for significant periods, they followed what Huston knew must be a formal hiking trail from some time in the past. The trees along the middle of the path were significantly shorter than those surrounding the path – a distinct line to follow. On these occasions, Huston saw the spirits of Feld raise significantly. And he saw the same in himself. A happiness and a comfort. They followed the sunset and Huston knew that meant, at least, they were headed west away from Hillston.

Their conversation faded after the first two weeks except for what was necessary to communicate. There was a feeling, for a time, that over each next ridge they would see something incredible to guide them. But that ceased to be the case. It was winter and they days were short. 

From time to time, the two would find themselves in an abandoned town or city. Coming over a hill or around a bend and seeing buildings were what kept Huston going. He loved seeing the look on the face of Feld when he ran into the buildings. Hillston was small and the buildings were short. On several occasions, Huston and Feld saw buildings that had upwards of eight floors, things they had only read about. They would run in and out of buildings, looking for any sign of other people, any sign of life but would not find any. Huston knew that this was a long shot every time – the books all said that the West was mostly abandoned since the fall of the New American Empire. He still allowed himself to get excited every time. Maybe this city was their new home. Maybe this is where they could stop.

At the very least it meant that they could gather supplies and sleep somewhere inside for a night or two. This was what he would explain to Feld when they met back up after searching and found no sign of people. Feld’s face would fall every time.

Huston felt lucky because they had not run into a significant snow over the first three weeks but that changed when a tremendous blizzard bore down on them. They had been traveling with not town for relief for four days and had crested over one mountain with a valley and a much taller mountain in front of them when they saw the first flake of snow. They rushed into the valley as the snow started to fall in earnest. 

There was a small grove of trees next to a stone outcropping and they used to shield themselves slightly as six feet of snow fell slowly over the course of the following seventeen hours. Huston was successful at making a fire for the two of them with the remainder of their materials but it was weak and mostly just stayed in embers. They huddled together for warmth but found that only one of them could be close to the fire at any given time. Huston made sure it was always Feld. He felt his toes get cold and then colder and the sting with pain and then go numb but he ignored it. 

They dug themselves out in the middle of the day eighteen hours and twenty-two minutes after the first snow had started to fall. It took them a further three hours to make a path to the other side of the valley using walking sticks they had picked up along the way. They were not well prepared for a blizzard but Huston kept their spirits up by singing a song they had learned when they were children and they laughed and the hours passed by more quickly. His leg started to hurt again but he ignored it. The sun disappeared as they reached the base of the West side of the valley. They decided to climb through the night.

It was not an easy climb but not the worst they had encountered. This was a formal path – one they had taken to following three days prior but had lost intermittently. It took them in switchback up to the peak of the mountain previously known as Candland. It took them much of the night. They arrived at the top, exhausted, as the sun started to crest over the horizon at the back of them and they saw whey saw what they had been looking for. Below them, in a town that was just slightly larger than what Huston imagined Hillston to be from this height, there was movement. There were people.