Read Traitor, Book 1 of The Turner Chronicles Page 71

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  With every transfer he sometimes traveled a mile. Occasionally he traveled two or more miles, but those instances were unusual. On average his distance was less than four hundred yards. On many occasions he did not bother to transfer because even with the small boost of strength the steel in the shotgun and the knife gave him, transferring took energy. Sometimes it was easier to just walk a hundred yards or less when that was as far as he could see.

  By the end of the day, he was exhausted. He had made it through the pass but had not gone much further. The mountains were still with him, an unending rising and lowering of ground that thwarted with its limited sightlines. He had crawled when he wanted to run. After transferring more than two hundred times he had covered no more than sixty real miles.

  Exhausted, Aaron stopped when the sun settled in the west. He took a careful look at the area, memorized the flow of the land, the red splashed rocks and the smell of the earth, and then he transported one last time.