The soft sound of crunching leaves beneath muddy shoes leave an echo into the night. Nightly creatures crooning and going about their habitual nightly rounds. He feels the cold, the dull ache of his feet that have been walking much too long. It's fresh--new and it triggers a deeper meaning to the term 'humanity' for that of the once grace-ridden flesh. Sleep would have been preferable--if he knew how to settle in and where he could lay his head. There was the bunker (of which was requested to return to by Dean's insistent press of his brashly gruff voice filled with what he could assume was protective nature), but after traveling by foot for miles, on top of hitched rides he had received to small destinations; he could only assume he was still quite a ways away.
No rest when home is so far in the distance...
Crystal hues stare ahead, dark bags formed against the dirtied skin. His journey was still just beginning--