The old man worked his way down into the valley, tapping his cane against the ash caked road. Why? The father and the boy departed on their own path a few days ago, leaving him to find his next meal on his own, a challenge he may not be able to complete. Why was that boy so generous? Why didn't they rob me? He couldn't help but be dumbfound by their willingness to help him, especially the boy, it was if the world had not yet tainted the kid's soul with the hate that tainted his years ago. The father seemed more timid to the idea of feeding someone, though eventually he succumbed to the boy's begging, bless that kid.

None of that mattered though, he was in the same predicament as he was the other night. His hunger was growing fiercer again and, as usual, he was out of food to feed that hunger.

His abdomen suck closer and closer to his bones.

His heart seemed to be crushed by his twig-thick chest.

But he didn't give a care anymore, maybe death would be sweater than bitter. How, in any case, could returning to the unshaped dust be worse than treading through this hell?

The old man felt his walk slow to almost nothing, gravity to intense to carry on, and as he stopped so did the cold wind. His face tingled and warmed, his legs popped and ached as he lowered them to the ground, his breathing more challenging by every breath he stole from the morning air. It was time, and it felt as if every single atom and every dying fiber in his body knew.

His back to the ground, he looked to the sky. The clouds knew no color besides their usual 1000 shades of gray. The sun was cloaked somewhere up there, but where? Maybe it was as ashamed to be alive as he was.

His breath thinned and shallowed to something barely existent. He closed his eyes, there was nothing more to see of this world, he'd had enough. The nerves throughout his body warmed, he felt dead, but alive. Finally as he accepted his fate, he slept.

He slept deep.

Too deep in fact.

It had not been thirty minutes, but if another man were to check this old mans pulse, it wouldn't be beating. No sir. For he is now transcendental, one with the nature that had chiseled him away for so long...

He is finally dead.