Pant !Pant !
Thousands of miles from Jake's position, a young teenager was running for his life, huffing and puffing. His tousled brown hair had grown well since the Ordeal began, but the immature features of his face were still recognizable. It was no more and no less than Tim.
Except that since his excellent performance in the first trial, when he was the 996th competitor to reach the shore, the situation had changed. His composed but vigilant expression was over. On his face there was nothing but endless distress and deep despair.
His frail and underdeveloped muscles were trembling with exhaustion and Tim had stopped sweating long ago. His tongue was hanging down, his breathing was wheezing and his lips were bluish as if he was about to faint. He didn't know how he was still standing, but he knew that if he flinched for even a second, his Ordeal would end.
BOOOM!
