Griffin was tired of walking.
Moreso, he was tired of searching for a purpose. He had landed in South Korea almost 4 months ago, and had slowly made his way using basic conversational mandarin out of an outdated translation dictionary through China, Tibet, and into Nepal.
After a 3 day security delay, repeated friskings and police interrogations, Griffin finally met with progress, as he was escorted to the border between Tibet and Nepal, the Daunting mountain range imposing itself in the distance. Before him lay a guard station, protected by a guard with a pistol and a single bollard stretched across the dirt road.
Showing his identification to the border guards, the Sergeant on Duty suddenly looked up to the American across from him and slowly handed the I.D. back to him, his eyes wary of the man's presence.
"You ought to be careful, American. Bandits roam the hills in Nepal, they have no police to save you if you befall their greedful desires."
Griffin said nothing as he walked onwards down the dirt road, cutting across a mountain range. He would trek this road for 5 days and nights, stopping only to sleep.
At night, he built his fire, and amidst the cool spring evenings, would gaze upon the stars within the wilderness. Every glistening gem in the darkness of the night begged his spirit to continue.
He had exhausted all his options back home; The Army said his tests were inconclusive, and even the leading medical experts had no clue what was going on.
It was why he travelled with the last of his money. To find the truth about his ability.