
The swamp was filled with the deafening sound of thunder and so, too, was it engulfed by brief white-hot flashes of lightning. It had been raining for a time that Fallow couldn't quite fathom, and the earth beneath his hooves had long-since turned to nothing but a dark colored mud. He felt compelled to continue along the path he had been walking for that insurmountable time, though he knew not where he was heading. The trees surrounding the hooded buck swayed viciously in the wind, and the rain came at him from an angle. He was soaked, and he was shivering. He squinted against the onslaught, but couldn't make out more than a few feet in front of him. His mind felt hazy, his limbs leaden.
How did I get to where I am now? When did the rain begin?
He had no answers to his questions, and could only think of them over and over as he pushed forward- determined to reach whatever goal his mind had set for him.