The hot summer air cloyed in his paper-thin nostrils and threatened to strangle him, but still he advanced, no matter how sore his hooves were, or how much his muscles ached. Every so often, he would stumble gracelessly over a pot-hole left by burrowing creatures or rain, or nearly impale himself on a fallen branch. Besides a few scrapes and bruises however, his skin was as intact and clean as you would expect a dusty traveller to be.
What did he seek? Howl had asked himself that question many times before; perhaps the better question was 'What did he run from?' He knew this answer definitively, but would rather die than to vocalize it; to say so would spell a certain death for him, and he valued his pelt as much as the next woodland creature.

He wondered when he would grow weary of this endless march forwards; not weary in the physical sense, so much as the mental. At first, after recovering from the trauma of losing his home and his entire life, Howl had felt the pull of the vagabond's life entice him onto this endless road. He would roam everywhere and nowhere, and meet interesting creatures and see extraordinary things, but now he felt terribly homesick for the first time in weeks, and was beginning to feel cracks beginning to form in the veneer of his adventuring spirit. For most of his life he had lived a sheltered existence, alongside extended family and close friends. If he were ever lonely, there would always be a cousin or friend to play with him, and if he were ever sad, there was always his mother to console him. Now he felt lonely, sad, hungry, and jaded, and there was no one other than the occasional squirrel or bird to cheer him up, and even their efforts were largely ineffective.

Although it was difficult to ascertain the time of day from beneath the thick canopy, Howl felt a sluggishness overcome him which caused his eyelids to droop and his mind to fog. The forest was quiet, so he paused his travels despite the terrible heat and vicious insects. Perhaps he would meet another of his kind today, although he highly doubted it. Loneliness had pervaded his life since he had encountered (and fled from) the Many-Faced Witch, and he was half-thankful for it, no matter how much his heart ached.