The first tendrils of light were beginning creep back in through the forest treetops and birds began to reappear. Having created a large enough gap between him and the dead goblin, he paused to rest his back against a tree. In the distance, he thought he heard shrieks of outrage and anger coming from behind in the direction of the dead goblin. And knew then that he had made a mistake leaving the goblin's carcass out there where it could be found, but at the time he couldn't push himself to go back and drag the body away. Seeing what he was willing to do to live, frightened him. His hands still trembled at the memory of digging his fingers into the Goblin's skull. He shook his head to rid himself of the memory, but it wouldn't leave. He tried to think of his home, his family, how they would sit by the fireplace and play games like monopoly and felt his heart ache with homesickness. Shaking his head at his own weakness, he searched for another safe spot to rest and found another sturdy tree and clambered up it. He kept the spear close to him and watched for any movement below him.

He couldn't sleep, so he watched and waited, his breath misting in the cold air. After a while, he dug out the pouch he had taken from the goblin and spilled its contents onto his palm. To his surprise, the pouch only held fine black dust. Not sure what to make of his find, he poured it back into the pouch and pulled out the dried piece of meat. He moved to take out a bite from the dried piece of meat, when he noticed skin covering one side of the meat, human skin. He dropped the piece of human flesh and gagged into his arm repeatedly. Choking back bile that had risen up his throat, he rubbed his hands against his jeans trying to remove the feeling of having touched smooth dead skin.

Dawn finally arrived, with the sun showering the clouds around it in a soft orange light. He stretched his aching muscles and rubbed his numb feet, before making his way down the tree. He rubbed his tired eyes and went searching for the trail the group had left behind. A part of him didn't care that they had abandoned him, but the theft of his backpack with everything he had left in the world was too much.

He followed his own trail back to where he had last seen them, making sure to skirt the area where he had killed the goblin. His eyes wandered the forest floor covered in bronze leaves and tree roots, seeking the slightest imperfection. His father's words ringing in his mind, telling him to notice the little things around him and to be patient. It must have been at least an hour before he caught sight of their trail, heavy indentations in the earth and broken twigs marking the path they had taken; looks like they were moving north-east. He wondered if they were heading to a camp where there were more survivors, or were they like him, roamers wandering from place to place. Either way there was no time to lose; he tightened the makeshift bandage on his leg and started walking.

It wasn't long before his stomach growled and his throat became parched with thirst. The wound on his leg was throbbing again. He would need to clean it and soon, but first he needed food. He remembered his father telling him about insects being the best source of protein, and thus, he looked around for ant hill. Finding one near a tree, he quickly collected a single stick and placed it in the middle. Within seconds, the stick was covered with tiny black ants. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out the stick and commenced popping the ants one by one into his mouth and crushing them with his teeth. To his surprise, they had a pleasantly sour flavor.

After eating more than half a dozen ants, he shook the stick to get rid of the rest, brushing off the one crawling up his arms. Now for some water,

He moved around the tree to where the ants had made their nest and found a line climbing into a hole in the crotch of the tree trunk. He dipped the stick into the hole to see if there was any water inside. To his relief, the stick came out wet. He tore off another piece of his shirt and wrapped it around his stick. Then dipped the stick back into the hole, he waited for a few minutes for his shirt to soak up the water, before pulling it out. He then carefully squeezed every drop of water into his mouth, which tasted of sweat and bark. It wasn't enough to parch his thirst, but for now he could continue his hunt.