Slog

Slog

What a descriptive word!  When  you say “slog” you hear the sound,  the gooshing of mud or snow, you feel the weight of the word as your legs become tired from effort!

I was sincerely and desperately lost! The map did me no good.  Here I was out in the forest, lured by my best friend who supposedly knew what she was doing!  Alas, I found out to my detriment, this was not the case!  We had trudged up monumental hills, then down.  We crossed two streams and a rushing river following what we thought was the path out of his nightmare.

As we slog through the mud I can’t help but wonder at that moment of insanity when I’d agreed to accompany her on this worthwhile but now futile journey.  Originally having acquiesced to raise money for another worthy cause, this one hers, we had begun with light steps and happy hearts. However, as the miles passed, my legs tired, my feet were sore from rubbing along the side of the oversized shoe.  The slog did not seem quite as worthwhile.

It would be dark in another couple hours, we would definitely have to stop soon and light a fire.  I wondered if she’d brought matches.  We must find a place for the night.  Luckily I’d brought a heavier set of clothes to change into or add on as the case may be.

She wasn’t speaking to me, she slogged along silently.  Miffed, no.  Angry, yes.  I’d chided not berated, or so I thought, but she’d taken it differently.  Perhaps she felt a tad guilty about the situation we were in.  We had to get out of this mess and her co operation was essential.

“Maggy, we need to camp for the night and soon. It’s not feasible to slog through the bush after dark.”

She stopped walking, I stopped alongside her.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.”

“No need, my friend, no need.  We’ll start a fire, hunker down and make our way out at first light, right?”

With hope in our heart, and humming a song, we gathered twigs and small dry branches and started the fire.  We huddled close feeling the chill. Breaking out what little we had for bedding, we slept close to the fire, taking turns through the night to keep it going.

We were awakened by sound.  “What the hell is that?”  Noise, lots of it.  As it moved nearer, we identified voices. Hopping to our feet we stood and stared toward the direction the voices seemed to be  coming from.

Through the heavy underbrush, a dozen people, men and women surged.  A whoop of delight rose in the air so loud it could deafen.

“Alas the lost is found!”  One of the spectators of joy announced.

A grateful Maggy  delightfully relieved asked, “How did you know where to find us?”

“You left a trail a mile wide.  Couldn’t miss the slogging path you took.  What possessed you to turn left at the “y” juncture instead of right as indicated?”

We looked sheepishly at one another.  That was another story.

 

 

 

 

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