For the first time in six years, Jackson has lain his eyes on this valley. Before, the land brightened every day, natural life had integrated itself with the natural people who lived here. Colorful assortments of wildlife and a plethora of species roamed the land freely in this land. A beautiful river snaked its way between two large rocky mountains, tall mountains that like the valley were green and abundant with microsystems of plant and animal cooperating together in a beautiful way. All they wanted to do was survive, right? That’s all anybody wants.

This beauty has vanished though, and the reason to why it has vanished has eluded Jackson’s mental grasp. Even though the weather seems to have tried to keep Jackson away out of fear for his own life, Jackson came anyway to the valley. Jackson does not want to lose his first and perhaps his only chance at returning to the valley. Not even the worst thunderstorm can change his heart. This storm challenged his heart though, making the day look light night even though the time was near midday, attempting to shove him over with its pushing winds, firing streaks of lightning, dumping buckets of water on top of him, temporarily deafening him as if to say, “Leave here and never return.” Jackson doesn’t fear this bully.

Jackson walked cautiously along the trail, not afraid yet aware that the slightest misplacement of focus will cause the storm to win by either killing him. Yet Jackson knew this land like the back of his hand. He chose in the trail with the most trees, knowing that the large and fumbling hands of the storm, the wind, wouldn’t have a chance at defeating Jackson, the trees protected Jackson as if he was their child, he does share the same valley, does he not?

The rain perhaps provided the worst harm to Jackson. The armies of water droplets would charge him, scores of lightning all at the same time. His shield, his rain coat, protected his body extremely well, if not for that he perhaps would have died already from the sheer cold tendrils of the soldiers of the storm. His raincoat did not protect him fully though, and the rain that did get to him froze wherever they touched his skin, once again the storm failed to overcome this man. With dirt trails though, the rain caused even worse danger by making the road a river of mud. Jackson carefully weaved his way through slowly, wondering if he should turn back, find some shelter, or continue. Shelter seemed to be the best option. Using his memory, he located his location in accordance to landmarks he remembered. He knew exactly where he was, his journey had nearly come to a close and even with that in mind he decided to find a cave, knowing the location of one not too far he began his hike up into one of the mountains.

He remembered that a trail did lead up to the cave yet he could not find it proving an issue. Wet trees do not act friendly enough for a person. Slippery, wet, and rigid at the same time, he tactically chose each step, taking a few hours for a mission that would normally take a half hour following the trail. Even as an old friend to Jackson, the forest now gave him remorseful feelings. The storm has caused strife within Jackson’s head; victory for the storm is now a visible chance.
After escaping the brush, Jackson found himself at the mouth of the cave. Although following a futile idea, Jackson obtained some sticks on his way into the cave. He found a small alcove in the smooth wall of the cave. The floor of the cave seemed almost level, a flat plane, not how Jackson remembered it. For the time he ignored it. Producing a fire took longer than he expected, an hour. The struggle was “worth it” though, warming Jackson up and reminding him of his own home.
Jackson looked outside and witnessed what seemed to be a hurricane, the winds tore through the sea of trees producing wave-like effects yet somehow he knew the storm had begun to die down. Some pride took root in his chest. He had beat the storm. Tomorrow he will go home.