If there was one thing Alexei wasn't ready to give up, it was the Run; it was the little fishing hole he'd made for himself. When he couldn't find anything else to do, he'd just go to his spot in the pass and fish. It might seem boring to others but, the silent time spent alone with the water was giving him more confidence by the day. The man still tried not to look at himself in the water's reflection, in fear it'd make him sad or stuck endlessly staring back at himself, caught in a whirlwind of memories that led him here. Recently, there wasn't immediate fear when the river was a little high from a rain the night before. It helped that he'd blocked off the faster flowing part of the river with his little off spout of water in a hole in the river's side. He'd expanded it enough to where he could put his front half in with no problem, adjusting rocks if he needed.
The fisherman sat back, waiting for the river flow and the fish either swim off or get caught in his little trap. As one says, a watched pot never boils, and yet, he didn't mind as the time passed by. He could sit here forever, most likely. Of course, he'd get lonely, but he was used to that feeling. It was endless and temporal all at the same time. For he knew company and knew without, and the time in between was fathomless, unable to comprehend sometimes. And so, after tending to his fishing spot, he decided he was allowed some rest. The front half of him was a little wet, but the sun's heat would help out with that. The days crawled closer to summer, an inescapable heat. Thankfully, the pass held lots of brush and foliage to keep those who inherited it, cool. The river also helped, with a refreshing spray of water when the wind was right.
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