You see it now. Clearly.
His bootsoles made little sound as they padded against the soft dirt of the rising trail, one before the other. The land climbed ahead of him, gently. Invisibly.
The fog lay heavy upon the trail and the moon hadn’t yet risen. But he felt sure of the route, sure of what lay ahead. He watched for tree branches in the mist and let his feet keep the trail.
Go farther. Farther up.
He would be well beyond the O.P. by now. Somewhere far below and miles behind lay Darreh Sin. He’d gone deeper up the Valley, he was sure, than anyone from 3/44 had ever been. Farther than he’d ever been.
Farther from there.
The trail was broad and flat in parts, close and challenging at other points. The river was not far, below and to his left. At times the trail cut close enough to hear it.
When the route moved away, the rest was silence. Only the quiet sound of his footfalls padding the land, over and over, upward to where he knew he needed to go.
You’ll find it.
He’d chosen a pace that he could maintain, steadily, for as many miles as he needed to.
You won’t falter.
It had been a trail like this one, that first dark morning at Fort Benning. Slugging through the black woods with the instructors hollering at them, emerging to the shining wet track, finding his friend afterward.
Let’s go again, he’d said to the smartass, arms linked around shoulders. He had felt he could hit the track and run forever.
You can. Further.
The cooling mountain air filled his lungs and drove his limbs.
Go into the mountains further.
There’d been no trail the final night on the land navigation course, when the two of them made their mad flight across the mountains. They didn’t have a prayer. Too far from the finish line. No time to use the map or the compass, no time to plot a route. Only time to run.
Scrambling and falling across the field of felled logs, he had realized that he didn’t care. The task was ludicrous. Impossible. But he didn’t care. He’d felt certain they would find the way.
You will. This is what you do.
As they bounded through streams and slashed their faces on vines, he had laughed aloud. In that moment he had never wanted to leave that forest.
You don’t have to.
He drove further up the trail.
—
Three hours in, he found it.
Ahead on his right, just visible in the mist. He felt sure enough of the signature feature that he didn’t stop to consult his topographic map.
The narrow draw rose sharply up and away from the path. Ahead, the trail proper narrowed and bent around the rump of the mountain, through perilous cliff’s-edge portions he’d seen on the map. He left the trail and began climbing.
A rivulet of water trickled down among the stones and pebbles of the draw. He let it flow over his hands as he worked his way higher. As he rose, his thoughts circled back.
Back to the beginning.
Focus.
To the other climb, up the other mountain.
Stay on this mountain.
He clawed and pulled upward. He guessed he’d climbed about five hundred feet when he came over the top.
There was no fog up here. The stars in the black sky were clear.
“It’ll just take you too.”
Moonlight shone silver on the mountainsides. The ground opened wide before him.