Work Text:
Lost in the woods. The moss is soft but damp with dew. The cloying mud is unavoidable, and eventually goes unheeded. There are more important things to worry about. Every animal track is another road paved with false hope, with desperately good intentions. Thankfully the rain has yet to commit to falling, but the sky remains decidedly undecided. Well, what I can see of it through the oppressive canopy, hanging like a heavy blanket overhead.
I wish you were still here with me. I wish we were still together.
Because you had the compass.