Now, as then, the man finds himself alone. Since his awakening he has travelled far and seen much and all that he has done he has done in solitude. He has met many peoples in more towns and cities than he can recall and he has tried to help all those that he could.
Occasionally they are grateful and give the man food, shelter, and small gifts to remember them by. The man holds these gifts dear and keeps those especially important to him in a weathered leather bag worn close to his chest.
In some moments of quietude he sees the other man on the beach before him, the blood red evening sun still playing off the edge of his face, beckoning him. And though the weight of his past has lightened, he now finds himself haunted by chasing this new spectre.
The man cannot recall how long or how far he has wandered since the beach but he knows that he is no longer the same man who awoke upon the sand. He is older and more worn down, but still searching for his path forward, hoping that he will find something of himself in those he heals.