It walks silently. Day after day. The wind bites, the rain freezes on its skin, the darkness smothers it every night, and still, on it walks. It doesn't know where it's going. It doesn't know why it must get there. It only knows that it must keep walking.
Sometimes it is joined by temporary companions. They walk alongside it, displaying comradery and providing comfort where they can. Some stay for a short time, some for long. Most lack its tenacity, and part ways after a while. Some lack its longevity, and stick by it until they collapse, resting permanently in its wake. It cannot stop. It cannot double back. It must keep walking.
It cannot keep this up forever. It can feel its joints beginning to grind. It can hear the ticking in its chest becoming gradually slower, the difference much too subtle for anything else to notice, but there just the same. It can see its skin wearing thin. It can only hope that it reaches its goal, wherever that may be, before it falls apart. It cannot stop for maintenance. It must keep walking.
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