Here is a little story that I just made up. I didn’t realize how long it was so I cut it short a bit at the end.
As he trudged through the dark damp forest, Andrew felt pain shooting through his arm. It had been a close call with the grizzly, but he had survived with minor injuries. As he moved forward he stepped through some brush, and was out of the forest. He gazed upon the vast horizon, all he could see was tall grass and some small trees that looked dead and fragile. He started making his way through the grass but stopped. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small run down house, that looked like it hadn’t been inhabited in at least five decades. It was getting dark and looked like there may be a storm coming so he figured he’d head to the house and stay there for the night. As he was settling down to go to sleep he heard a noise. No doubt this was a bear. After his last incident Andrew had no interest in having a confrontation wit a bear of any type. He picked up his knife and cautiously made his way to the cracked weathered door. He peered through a small crack and saw the figure of a small boy approaching. Andrew’s mind raced. He called out “Who’s there?” several times, but got no answer. Andrew opened the door, there stood the young boy, he had scrapes and cuts all over him and blood was running from his nose. In all of his twelve years as a hiker, Andrew had never met anyone during his hike. He sat the boy down and wet a rag with warm water. He wiped the boy’s wounds and cleaned his face, then he asked him who he was and what he was doing here, miles from civilization. The boy said he was in an off road vehicle with his father, and they had been driving for several miles and he had fallen asleep. He awoke to find himself flying through his windshield. He landed in a small bush about ten feet from the car that was by now in flames. He saw his father in the car but he did not look conscious. Flames were engulfing the car and for that it might explode, he ran and ran until he was a safe distance from it. The car blew up moment later, and even at his distance the boy was knocked to his feet. He was miserable, his father was gone and he was lost miles away from any other human. He walked and walked until he reached this house and met Andrew. Andrew had lost his father the same way just six months earlier and he knew how hard it was to lose someone so close, so fast. He talked with the boy for a while and tried to relieve him of some of his pain. They then went to sleep and hoped to wake up to a nice better day. The next day Andrew awoke to find the boy already up and getting dressed. They hiked together following a map closely so as not to make any wrong turns. By nightfall they had arrived back in the small town in which the boy lived. As the walked up the boy’s front steps, his mother came out and greeted him with a long warm hug, and with tears in her eyes she told him how the forest patrol had found the car and assumed that both it’s occupants were dead. She was so relieved to have him home safely. Two days later when Andrew got home he packed up his gear for good, and decided he was done with hiking. They all lived happily ever after. (except for the dad who died hapily ever after)