Tired and with hope fading, you fall to your knees. You know your destination but the journey is unimaginable. You feel like a child. You don't notice the time pass, you just stare out across the still deep water. Now and then the silence is broken by distant calls as strange tribes and cave dwellers, beings known only in tales told by wise elders around ritual camp fires, go about their daily hunting and gathering.
You wake up in a start. It is dark and cool. You feel sad, and hungry. There is no light to help you search for food, your next meal will have to wait until morning. You crawl back towards some primitive, but large ferns. They will do for cover tonight. You lie there and wonder. Is this my home now? Or is this where I will die. Without clarity you resign yourself to living here for however long you may live.
Dawn comes. You did not sleep so now that light rises you crawl out from your floral tent and survey the nearby plant life for food.
You spot a strange oval shaped bush sprouting straight out of the ground without a visible trunk. It is covered in large red fruit, about the size of a baby's fist. Your curiosity and hunger dictate your next move. You walk to the bush, and ignorant of the fruit's potential lethality you pick one and bring it to your mouth. You roll the skin against your lips wondering if you should take what could be your last bite of food ever.