I reached 4,10 by nightfall.
The lake was exactly where I had left it, the birds still moving overhead in their usual current, indifferent to my problems. I refilled the canteen, packed the shirt-bag until the knot strained again, and sat at the water's edge long enough to eat three fruits and think through what I was doing.
Twelve days left.
I had spent days going south and found nothing, days going west and found nothing. The northeast was the only direction that had shown me anything alive, which was a thin reason to bet everything on it, but it was the only reason I had.
I slept at the lake. First real after a while.
As soon as the light came back I started running east.
The terrain here was cleaner than the jungle to the north, more open ground between the trees, fewer root clusters crossing the surface, enough visibility to push Quickstep properly without constantly worrying about tripping. I let myself run at full speed.
