This is how Arlo’s routine would repeat. Extending through the upcoming days, and eventually even weeks. After that, he simply lost track of how long it had actually been. All the while, slowly beginning to forget what his days and nights had been like before he had arrived in the forest. Like what activities and feelings they had been filled with. Because over the course of this time that had gone by, along with him doing the same tasks, and the same things to relax. In a sense, it became like he was reliving the same day over and over again. Sometimes loving it, and sometimes hating it. Arlo realized that there was no way for him to predict how he was going to feel. Whether is was good or bad, happy or sad. Would he awake with eagerness and energy? Or would it be nothing but dread and regret? There were even times where his attitude would change dramatically during the day. On some occasions, it seemed to instantly flip back and forth without warning. Going from feeling elated to deflated and then back again. The more this happened, the more he worried. Noticing the inability to slow his emotions. Accompanied by his wants and urges turning into needs and necessities. He had never previously been this way, even as far back as he could remember. Just directionless and so out of control. And even though there were plenty of others around, there were none for him to truly talk to. Even after being there for quite some time, Arlo found it hard to trust the others that were there. Partly because he had always had a problem with that; partly because the faces that he was familiar with, began to change. He watched numerous individuals leave under the cover of darkness. Their reasons for doing so were their own, but he knew that they must’ve felt similar to how he did. Whether it was quickly, as in only being a few days or less. Or whether it took a bit longer, it was very seldom that they did not eventually return. Some of the the individuals who returned seemed to be relieved that they were back. Almost as if they questioned their decision to do so in the first place. But the remainder of those who returned, did not provide the same vibe. They looked to be hobbling and rundown. Reluctant to be arriving back. Some were worse than others. They were battered and bruised, with ripped or missing shirts or shoes. Never quiet seeming the same as they were before they left. Nevertheless, to Arlo’s surprise, there were those who would continue to try and leave. Even after repeated failed attempts. Gideon would always be pleased to see them when they would return. Welcoming them with open arms, whether they wished him to or not. Because Gideon did try to keep the peace and keep everyone happy. But he did so in more of group manner, not so much individually. Unless you happened to be new, as Arlo once was. He and Gideon hadn’t interacted with each other for some time. Arlo was tired, and, had made up his mind.