Celestia

4

"Guess it can't be that easy," he says.

Mid-afternoon the same day, after we've enjoyed long showers and a hot meal, we prepare and leave our cabin for the second time. There's no point in beating around the bush. We have a few minutes of debate about which direction to go this time, and we come to the agreement to go north today, which is directly behind the cabin. There's a saying that if you follow the North Star, it will lead you home. Neither of us could identify it in the sky, but north is north. The plan for this go around is to go until we can't go anymore - which hopefully won't be until our after-living legs give out.

Sawyer's the pack mule for the backpack again, and like last time, we head off into the mouth of the forest that has swallowed us. We move along rather quietly as the day and miles pass, stopping occasionally for rest and snack breaks. I find myself internally struggling on whether or not I feel actual hunger - because that would be a sign that we still have needs. With my stomach growling at me, I tell myself: like Sawyer said, it's not like we're going to starve to death.

I find myself wondering: what if we do make it out of the forest? What if it's just more of this alternate reality? What if there is no way back? There's no guarantee this is going to work, but all I know is staying in that isolated cabin isn't going to get us anywhere.

Night number one falls, and we have a campsite set up by dark. There's a fire but we didn't pitch the tent since we won't need it. Instead, we just spread a sleeping bag across the ground near the fire and sit on it, cuddling into one another and waiting for daylight to continue on.

We eat, talk, and play mind games for the first few hours, until eventually we retire to quiet boredom. Sitting there in the dim glow of star and moonlight, I realize I don't think I ever sat and did nothing for such an extensive amount of time in my life. I don't recall ever being this bored. Just for the sake of moving, I get up to grab another log from the pile for the fire.

"What are you doing?" Sawyer asks.

"Throwing another log on."

"I just put one on about twenty minutes ago."

"I know, but I wanted to move. How do you feel?"

I begin doing some stretches.

He answers, "Like a mushroom."

Oddly, I understand what he means. 

"You?" He asks.

"Same," I answer. "I'm not sure if I'm tired of being bored or just tired. Or both."

He too moves to get up.

"I'm going to go pee. I'll be right back."

He stomps off into the darkness. I yawn and continue my fireside yoga for the next few minutes.

"Autumn?"

The disembodied voice of my mother suddenly echoes out again. I snap upright and glance around. Again, I see nothing. 

"I'm here!" I call desperately. "Mom?"

There's no response. To my left, I hear the crunching of leaves getting progressively louder as someone approaches. Sawyer emerges into the light. He eyes me confusedly. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head. "Nothing." I don't want to admit my hearing things. If he was hearing voices, he would've told me already. I think. As much as I want to believe my mom is attempting to make contact with me through the veil, I know I'm probably losing it.

I have no idea how many more hours we sit, waiting for daybreak, but I do know that by dawn's early light, we are both feeling the full effects of the all-nighter. Sawyer is the one to speak up first.