The cold breezy air in the woods did not make his journey any more bearable. The hand that was shot and bleeding was a complete terror. But Eric Willingham did manage to drag his lazy feet back into the city.
"Stupid Daven, left me there to die!" he cursed as he tried to get a taxi.
It was a two day walk from his old cabin where Daven had found him back to the main city but he made it. Because he is a Willingham, and dying in a pathetic state is not an option.
"Do you have any money?" A driver asked, stopping his taxi.
The man looked at Eric with disgust as he spoke. His shirt was ripped from the bottom and used to tie his bleeding hand. The rest of his body was covered in mud and dirt.
"Do you know who I am!" Eric hollered in anger. He couldn't believe the disrespect. No one has ever had the audacity to speak to Eric Willighmam that way.
