This entry is part 10 of 14 in the series The Dark

We traveled again, the tunnel growing narrower and wider at sporadic intervals. At times we were able to walk side-by-side. At others we were forced to move one behind the other, and when we did, we each took turns leading the way forward. When you led your stride was always strong, confident, sure. When you followed you kept watch at our backs, confident that nothing would be able to sneak up on us.

And of course we talked as we moved along that silent corridor, our voices strangely muted, even in that rocky passage. We’d known each other only a short while as Wayfinders, but already we had grown close. Closer still since you had saved my life.

Passages split off our course periodically. Some we passed by without looking, knowing by instinct that they were not the way back to Haven. Others we turned into with equal confidence, certain of our path. But far more often we were forced to give pause, consider the choices before us, and make the best decisions we could.

Such was the life of a Wayfinder.

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