He encouraged the man to go back. Just go back.
“She’ll be there,” he said. “Go back.”
“I don’t think so,” the man said.
His blue jeans were nearly black with slime. His flannel shirt was a cold film of sponge around his body.
“I can’t.”
“What’s the worst that can happen?”
“She won’t be there, and I’ll fall in again.”
“Okay — and what’s something great that could happen?”
“I’ll find her.”
“Then go back!”
“Okay,” he said.
His chin rose, as if pulled by a string, and he turned walked back to the path and into the blackened woods.
