From the hills of oblivion to the shores of despair he walked with the
voracity of a man half his age and only a tenth his girth. He thought
nothing of the transparent insects lodging themselves in his pores. The
insects quickly went to work mating and obtaining mid-level management
jobs. Rather, his thoughts did not waiver from the task he had set himself
to: the salvation of his race. The very scope of his task caused sweat to
pool on his back and in his shoes. His feet pounded the rough terrain,
until his foot encountered a rock. The misstep set him sideways, his body
no longer touching any semblance of soil, he plunged in a crevasse - never
to be heard from again.
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