What seems like hours later though only minutes, through the mud and rain, he reaches the top of the sloped hill. What next catches his gaze is the burnt husk of a home, the surrounding vegetation encroaching upon it. Crawling with what speed he can muster he reaches the remains of a house, pausing momentarily as another wave of deja vu passes over him, he continues into the burnt remains seeking any bit of shelter he can find.
Searching briefly he finds some boards and begins propping them, with some effort, next to a less crumbled wall. Crawling under his makeshift shelter, escaping the rain for a brief respite, he curls up into a ball trying to stay warm. Listening to the rhythmic sound of rain fall he falls into a fitful sleep.
Waking to the sound of a hooting owl and no sound of rain, he inches out of his shelter shivering. Bracing against the wall as best he can he tries to stand again, the pain is still there, holding onto the wall grimacing he shifts his weight slightly and decides that he bear the pain and walk a little. Keeping one hand on the support of the wall he limps around the burnt house, searching as he goes, stopping when he notices a water hand pump. Thinking to himself, "Well at least I can finally wash my wounds." he lets go of the wall and limps to the pump.
After several failed attempts, determination pays off, he is able to get some water to flow from the pump. He sits next to the pump and starts to undo a bandage to his legs, inspecting the blood soaked bandage he sighs, beginning to wash his legs. With each pump of water on his wounds brings fresh agony, biting into rolled cloth, he finishes and washes the strips of cloth while letting his legs dry.
After rebandaging his legs he stands holding himself up at the water pump looking at the burnt building, closing his eyes, thinking why this place seems familiar.
