Personal Narrative-Two Paths Diverge In A Wood

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Two paths diverge in a wood
Frozen. The one word used to describe how my body. My new winter boots dug into the snow, and the moisture that have penetrated my boots dug into my foot. I suppose that’s unfortunate consequence of stepping into a river, in the middle of one of the most bitter winters I have ever seen.
The lights of my scoutmasters snowmobile flickered on the top of the hill. The destination was close, and I quickened my pace. I wondered what my leaders might tell me when I arrived. After all, I had just lead half my scoutroup down a path of unwarranted perils. I had been given a choice and that choice was wrong.
An hour before this time was when the choice was made. Our goal was to trek up to a yurt in the snow filled mountains, and every scout accepted the
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Ten feet down the valley I knew i had made a bad choice. The snow went from being packed snow to fluff that was ankle deep, or even worse knee deep. I trudged through the snow, like a fish going upstream. Contorting my body and flopping my way through.
I kept flopping until I reached harder snow, this however, was not the end of my trial. I stepped out of the frying pan and into the fire, or a better description,i stepped out of of the deep snow and into the snow that hid a frozen river. My foot grazed the water and I instantly pulled it out. The cold feeling surged through my body like an icy heartbeat. The ice burned. My sense of urgency increased and so did my speed. I started to jog.
My jogging got me to the end the valley and I started my final ascension to the yurt above me. I was almost there. The angle of the hill increased with every step I took. My body ached. I was cold, tired, and hungry. I occupied my mind with other thoughts to take myself away from the pain. My main thought was what I would tell my leader when he saw how dreary I looked. My answer came in poem i was once

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