The young man rode for hours, in the midst of a mist that only rose at times, as the surrounding air was stirred by gusts of wind and local whirlwinds that illuminated the limits of his path, but that effect later disappeared when the atmospheric calm was restored.
Unable to distinguish the contours of where he was, he could not establish reference points to guide his march. Nick soon realized that he was completely lost, that he was probably going round and round and that he could in no way be sure that he was marching in a northeast direction as he had been instructed. The boy reflected for a moment and realized that control of his life was no longer in his hands, that he was completely at the mercy of fate, and that he could not find help in a medium that seemed to have the intention of assuring his loss.