He turned over, somewhat violently, on his sleeping mat.
Two days was all he had left – that was when their supplies ran out. In two days time, they'd be forced to turn back, and even then, they'd be moving with hungry stomachs. His new recruits would undoubtedly leave him, and he'd be lucky to keep even the older men. It was his rations that he'd promised to keep them fed on, after all. If the food wasn't there, and they hadn't brought it themselves, they'd be forced to leave, lest they perish.
For the first time in a long time, Vol was beginning to feel well and truly backed up against a wall. He'd dared to roll the dice, merely out of impatience. He refused to have something stupid slow his progress. He was young, and impatience tainted every decision. Here he was now, praying that his gamble paid off.
