Press on The sky was dark and the trees appeared as an unnatural shade of emerald, but so far no rain had fallen. The air was wet and heavy, and it was only a matter of time before the first drops began to fall. They were running out of time. They pressed on, urging themselves to keep moving. Their empty bellies motivated them, pushed them on. It had been many hours since they last ate, and even then it was only a little fruit. “It’s just over this next ridge,” he said, pointing down the trail. But they’d heard those words before, more than once, and now they held no sway. Besides, they had no choice. They were going to die anyway, most likely, and no one wanted it to be here. They pressed on towards home, or at least where they hoped their home had once been. Robert Walton is a journalist, writer and photographer, based in the Finger Lakes region of New York. He lives in a small cabin, in the woods.