Paths. Twisting, turning, winding away into nothingness. Only one would lead back toward the way I had come. The rest led to directions untraveled before. Paper was crumpled in my fist; other than notes on legends alluding as to what lay beyond the wilderness, it was blank.
I was on a journey to fill it.
I had lived in a small town for every day of my existence. Each hour was spent the same way it had been the day before. Life went by serenely. We were never hungry and we were always happy. But I desired more. I needed to push farther, discover more, and see all I could before there was nowhere else to go.
That morning I had left after saying my last goodbyes. Now I stood, looking toward the valley where home had been. Would always be.
With a deep breath I traveled on, going wherever the paths would take me.