They continued toward their destination, knowing time was their enemy. The instinct was to continue pushing, but they both knew in their hearts that the possibility of arriving on time was becoming less feasible as the day dragged on. Ezra had gotten to the point where he didn't want to look at Vincent anymore.

There was nothing to see now except for his increasingly morbid state of deterioration. He searched his thoughts, looking for something to take his mind off his worries and focus on something more constructive. He couldn't seem to find anything particularly hopeful about their situation, so the best he could manage was to squeeze a measure of humor from their suffering.

"Boy, am I glad we had a few scraps of squirrel meat the other day or I'd be plumb starved right about now."

Ezra saw the ghost of a smile appear on Vincent's face out of the corner of his eye. He waited for a response of some kind and then he realized that Vincent was likely too weak for speech. Or at least not unless it was absolutely necessary. The lack of sustenance was clearly affecting Ezra, so he could only imagine how it was affecting Vincent.

His stomach grumbled and he desperately wanted to find something to eat, but he knew they didn't have time to stop and search for food or hunt for it. The brief moment of humor quickly faded, and Ezra was left to dwell on the increasingly hopeless situation and the constant gnawing hunger.

Though Ezra had no desire to, he glanced over at Vincent to see how he was getting on. Vincent still had the shadow of a smile on his face. Then he spoke, his voice soft and raspy.

"It’s times like these my friend when a man wishes he had a second pair of legs to change out when the first set have grown weary."

Ezra did a double take, then laughed.

"You are an odd one brother."

Vincent gave what Ezra took to be a shrug.

"I admit, I do understand the sentiment." Ezra finally said. "Regardless of how strange you may have put it."

He glanced back to Vincent and saw his expression. An overwhelming sense of guilt suddenly seized him. Vincent needed a break and Ezra had forgotten that Vincent simply wouldn't have it in him to ask.

"I'm thirsty," Ezra said. "Let's rest for just a minute and have a drink."

Vincent didn't respond but Ezra could see the relief in his eyes. Ezra was pretty much dragging him at this point. He pulled him over to a nearby log and set him down as carefully as he could. Then he proceeded to gather their canteens so they could quench their thirst. He was rifling through his pack when he heard a thud ring out behind him. Followed by a groan.

Vincent had sat upon the log for a time, but he found himself too weary to maintain his balance. He had unceremoniously toppled off of the log and onto the ground. Ezra had rushed over to Vincent's side and helped him sit upright again.

"Thank you." Vincent said weakly.

Ezra dragged him over to the nearest tree, so Vincent would have a place to rest his back. He leaned him up against the trunk and offered him some water. Vincent gratefully accepted, slowly sipping. The cool liquid felt good as it passed over his lips and down his throat. He inhaled deeply with relief. Then he leaned back and rested his head on the tree, his gaze skyward. He sighed, closing his eyes.

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After a moment, he opened his eyes and stared up at the clouds. There was still daylight left, but not likely enough to make it back before nightfall. He closed his eyes again, wishing he could keep going. In his current state, it was all he could do to stay conscious.

Ezra fell down on a nearby boulder, defeated. He placed his head in his hands. Vincent peeked out at Ezra with one eye giving him a knowing look.

"I thought you said you were thirsty?"

Ezra looked up.

"I did - I am." He said, sounding a little defensive.

Ezra stood quickly and grabbed his water. Then he began to drink as well. Savoring each gulp. The refreshing liquid momentarily cut through the fog of his fear and anxiety. He relaxed slightly, as he mulled over what to do next. All was quiet for a time, when suddenly they heard a roar echo in the distance. Vincent's eyes snapped open, and Ezra dashed toward him, his own eyes wide with fear.

Ezra pulled him up roughly from his resting place and carried him off in haste.

"Wait!" Vincent cried. "What about the packs?"

Ezra didn't respond, instead he continued to run.

"Ezra!" Vincent said, "the packs!"

"We don't have time. We have to keep going."

They ran for a time, not daring to stop or look back. Vincent couldn't take anymore. He'd all but collapsed. Ezra strained against the burden, essentially carrying dead weight.

"Stop," Vincent said.

Ezra continued forward.

"Stop, I can't go any further."

Ezra reluctantly came to a stop.

"I'm sorry, Ezra. I can't keep going. This is it for me."

Ezra wouldn't concede. He began pacing, looking around in desperation as if he were likely to find the solution to their dilemma somewhere nearby.

"We can't just give up," he said finally.

Vincent shook his head.

"No, not give up. But we need a new strategy. At this pace, there is no way we are going to make it back in time. Even if I could keep going."

Ezra wiped the sweat from his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair all in the same motion; consternation in his features.

"I don't know what to do. We just have to keep going."

"No," Vincent said, his voice tired and faint. "The packs, you have to go back for the packs."

Ezra waved his hand dismissively.

"Forget the blasted packs."

Vincent leaned forward.

"You can't make it back without it. It's got the ammunition, guns, and water. How are we going to survive?"

This gave Ezra pause.

"What am I supposed to do? We can't go back. Not with that beast on our trail."

"We don't know it was the bear. It could be anything out here. We don't know it's after us either."

Ezra stared at Vincent in disbelief.

"This coming from the one who just told me that bears are known to hunt down their attackers and finish them off?"

Vincent was silent for a time.

"Ok, there is a good chance it is the bear, but it's definitely not a certainty. If we're lucky it's just some other creature that has no interest in us."

Ezra scoffed.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but luck isn't exactly something you and I can rely on consistently."

He sighed.

"I agree, but we don't have much of a choice."

Ezra paced back and forth slowly, rubbing his temples.

"You have to go back for the packs," Vincent said. "It's our only chance."

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime, just leave you here?"

Vincent nodded.

"I'll be fine."

Ezra shook his head.

"Go... please." Vincent said, an air of pleading in his voice.

Ezra placed his hat firmly on his head and then turned on his heels to head back the way they had come.

"He's right, we have to have our guns and water. And who knows if it's the bear we heard? Plus, even if it was the bear, how would it track us down? It would probably be pretty difficult to find us with how long it's been since the attack."

Just as the thought had crossed his mind, he saw evidence of blood on a nearby plant. It was subtle, but it was there. Vincent had been leaving trace amounts of blood in his wake. A trail of breadcrumbs that led straight to them...