Excerpt from The Chronicles of Danny Warfield by M. R. Salisbury:
The sun beat down on him like a branding iron on the backside of a squealing calf. From below, sand burned his feet. The liquid within the blisters was threatening to boil. He knew the journey was about to end. Danny Warfield could sense it. It had been a long forty days and forty nights since he left the shade of the tree. His journey led him along the beach, along the water, day in, day out, night in, night out, one step at a time. He didn't know what he was going to find at the end of his journey. But he did know one thing, he was looking forward to it.
More time passed. How much, he didn't know. His ability to think clearly had significantly diminished, including the skill to count days. His focus was now solely on taking the next step. He was so hungry, so tired, and so thirsty he wasn't sure how much longer he could go on. He kept thinking, kept telling himself the journey had to be over soon.