A Choice

Hours passed and Soren’s mind provided him only one conclusion: he had to make a decision. He had to decide whether he should continue traveling alongside the river, or if he should turn away and leave it behind him forever. He knew now what danger it held for him, but he would be directionless without it, wandering once again in the wasteland. Desiring to put off the decision for a little while longer, he walked the short distance back to the riverside. He stood, looking carefully at the river, and for the first time he perceived that it was beautiful. The dark and muddied water which he had drank upon first encountering the stream was here a vibrant and clear blue. Amidst the drab landscape in which the river ran, the blue appeared itself luminous, casting a soft glow on the sparse vegetation which grew along the banks. Small tufts of pearl-white foam curled gently above the surface before sinking back down with the water’s flow. As he continued to look he became aware of the tender roar of the rapids, a hushed murmur that sang unceasingly to his wearied soul. It was the only sound of nature he had heard in this forsaken place. He recalled the ripple of the stream that had first brought him the chance of survival. The river was no longer a river to him; it was hope, and rest, and comfort. But alongside this peace existed the anguish of what lay on the other side. The painful irony of his circumstances struck him anew. A single tear began to make its way down his face, one sacred bridge between the emotional and the physical, between his heart and reality: a single tear and not another forthcoming. There were none left to shed; he was void. He stood rooted to that spot by the river. He could not make the decision… not yet.