Journey of a Thousand Miles

Previously

…He touched the compass in his pocket. The needle pointed east, unwavering, and for a moment Jacob wondered if it was leading him forward or keeping him trapped in a circle. He walked on, the mud sucking at his boots, and in the distance, just at the edge of his hearing, he thought he heard a voice. It was his own voice, soft and tired, repeating words he could not quite catch. The swamp seemed to close in around him, the fog thickening, the shadows lengthening. Jacob kept walking, the compass always pointing east, and he could not shake the feeling that someone—or something—was walking with him, just out of sight, matching him step for step through the endless, clutching mire.