I don’t know where I am. I’m still in the mountains. I’ve been following a path, and I’m pretty sure I’m heading north… pretty sure. I may not be real, but I’m hungry. That doesn’t seem fair. There should be some advantages to being a fictional character. I shouldn’t have to eat or sleep or… other stuff.
I slept under something that looked like a park bench made out of sticks and logs off the side of the trail last night. I must be in some kind of national forest or something. There are mile markers all up and down the trail. This morning when I woke up there was a pack of crackers under the bench. I couldn’t believe it. I don’t know how old they were or how they got there, but I have never tasted something so delicious in my life. They were stale, frozen, and insanely good.
The only problem is they just made me hungrier. I haven’t seen a store or house or…. Anything at all in days. If I had my crossbow, I could hunt, but I don’t even know if there’s anything to hunt. I hear noises, especially at night, but I’m pretty sure it’s the wind. That’s that I tell myself, anyway.
Why didn’t I keep the crossbow?
I know why. I thought I’d be dead by now… no, not dead. That’s the wrong word. I thought I’d stop existing. What’s the point without the others… without him? I miss oz…
No. I can’t go there. I won’t be able to breathe if I do. If I have to live for another second without him, I have to forget about him. That’s the way it has to be. I am not real. I can’t be a part of his world. It will cost him his life. It will cost the others their lives. I know it. From this moment on, I have not past.