19 Sling
#19 of Inktober 2019
Sometimes all you can do is keep moving.
It was with a heavy sigh that I moved on. All I could do was sling my bag over my shoulder and keep moving along the road. I'd been traveling for nearly two weeks, trying to make it to a city where I might have time to rest in the relative luxury of civilization.
The trip was a challenge, to put it mildly. I'd badly underestimated how long it would take. I've had to space out my rations, though I used up my last this morning and I hope it was enough. Travelers in this area tend not to stop for fear of bandits, so asking for help isn't even an option; either a benevolent caravan would think I'm trying to take advantage of them or a malign one would take advantage of me. My road has been a lonely one.
Despite the challenges, I think I can just see the city on the horizon. It may be a day's trek away. Two at the most. Heaven willing I'll get there by daybreak tomorrow and finally be able to rest, even if that means slinging this bag off my back into the corner of the cheapest inn around. I just need to stop writing and start walking.