>"Want to? Sure. I want to sleep for about a month. I just can't."
>Let's try to pack up our belongings and make ready to head out. Then pause and assess our status.
>Kyouko frowns harder as you pull yourself upright to start gathering up your things, sending the damp towel tumbling off your head in the process; you barely even notice it fall, just feel the air around you growing hotter. But before you can even considered whether you should retrieve it, Kyouko is already scooping your possessions up.
>"Here, let me help you with that."
>After everything is packed away again, she insists on wrapping the towel around your forehead somehow. It feels awkward and heavy and probably looks ridiculous, but... if it makes her happier, you guess that's okay.
>If then we think we can make some worthwhile progress, then make every effort to do just that. For as long as we can.
>To be frank, you
don't really feel you like you've got another hike left in you, but you have to try. You
have to. If you don't try, you're dead.
>If you
do try, you're probably still dead. It would be a lot less struggle just to stay put. Maybe that's what you should have done.
>No. No, that's enough of that. Just one foot in front of the other. One quivering, unsteady foot. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, but you ignore it. Have to ignore it. Too many things to have to pay attention to. So hard just to... stay upright. The ground is so uneven and the trees keep moving. Which line is the horizon, again? There's so many of them and they all look the same. Too many damn trees in this forest; they're a nuisance.
>The ground rushes up to meet your face and it takes a few moments to register that perhaps
you were the one who moved, and not the ground. There's so little air down here. There's so little air anywhere. Kyouko is shouting your name into your ear, for some reason.