He stumbled again, his foot catching on another root. This time, he didn’t have the strength to stop his fall. He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him as he landed in a patch of damp leaves. For a moment, he lay there, gasping for breath, staring up at the tangled canopy of branches above.
His body screamed in protest as he pushed himself back up onto his knees. Everything hurt—his legs, his arms, his lungs. He was so tired. The urge to just lie down, to give up, was almost overwhelming. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Thunder was still out there, and George wasn’t going home without him.