I awake the next morning stiff and sore, but surprisingly warm. The sun has come up while I was still sleeping, and apparently the air heats up fast around here.

When I sit up, there's a squelching sound, and I realize that the moss beneath me is moist. I'm momentarily befuddled before I smell something pungent, and recall the events of last night. My face morphs into a mask of disgust. I've been sleeping in the piss of the animal from last night! I guess it must have soaked through the moss while I was sleeping. I'd think I would have noticed that I was rolling around in this soggy mess, but I guess I was more tired than I realized.

I quickly crawl out of the shelter, intent on getting it off me, but hit a brief snag when I realize there is no water nearby to clean with. I've just never truly considered how incredibly convenient unlimited tap water is, nor how used I'd gotten to its ubiquitous presence. I'll have to make do until I can find some water source.

Experimentally, I grab a bunch of leaves, and try scrubbing myself down with them, but it doesn't feel like it makes much of a difference. While doing so, I inspect the outside of the shelter. Aside from the now obvious business that the animal did, everything else seems thankfully untouched.

I drop the leaves on the ground, and sniff myself. Can't really tell whether it's better or worse. Did I get used to the smell over the course of the night, or did it just never really stick to me? Maybe it was absorbed by the moss? I shrug. Oh well, if I can't really smell it, and nobody is around, then I guess I'm fine until I can clean myself up. And better not lick my fingers or something.

That urgent matter dealt with, I finally realize just how hungry I am. I didn't even think of it yesterday, as focused as I was on building the shelter, and as tired as I was afterwards. But my stomach is certainly complaining about its lack of contents now. My throat is dry, but it's not terrible yet. I imagine that will change over the course of this day.

I remember my thoughts from yesterday, and check if any of the plants are covered in dew. Unfortunately, the seasonal warmth that keeps me comfortable also means I don’t see anything like that around. If I want to have any chance at it I'll need to try waking up earlier to see if there's any then, though that's going to be hard without an alarm clock. My highest priority is still finding a method to re-hydrate myself.

I feel another grumble a bit below, and rush off into the woods. When I'm a bit away from the shelter, I'm suddenly unsure of how to proceed. Normally I have a toilet to sit down on. I simply squat down on my heels, not taking any particular care for hiding my business this time around. It's become abundantly clear nobody is around. Somehow defecation is just as easy without a toilet.

When I'm done, I pause. I'd unconsciously been reaching for a toilet roll holder that is, of course, not here. I look around myself, then down at the forest floor. Leaves again? I try to find some bigger ones. It somewhat works, but not nearly as much as I want it to. I can feel... things... still stuck there.

I feel a lump in my throat and have to fight back tears. This is just getting to be a bit too much too fast. I was sleeping in a warm bed just yesterday. I knew in some abstract sense how good I had it, but not having any toilet paper really drives home how utterly removed I am from civilization.

It takes a little while before I'm able to collect myself. I make a few more attempts with leaves, but it never really feels like it does the job properly. I'm not even certain if it's all in my mind or reality. Eventually, I just try to ignore whatever I feel is still stuck to me. I really need to have a proper bath.

When I come back to the shelter, I realize I cannot stay there. I have to go and find water, now for one more reason than before. I guess there's no way that I'd lie down in that particular shelter again anyway. I wonder if I could follow any animals to a water source. Then I remember that an animal actually passed by my shelter just last night. Maybe I can try to track where that one was headed.

A cursory investigation of the surroundings yields some indentations from what was probably a paw in the direction I think it went. The indentations are much larger than I was hoping for, though maybe not as large as what I imagined last night. I'm not adept enough to distinguish paw prints, but I'd say it's black bear, instead of brown bear level.

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The forest floor, especially the mossy parts, barely holds any footprints, so I could very easily lose the trail. I don’t believe for a moment that I'd recognize any other signs of passage than the obvious depressions. In hindsight, I should've definitely taken that survival training course when I had the chance.

In the end I don’t have much choice though. Animals are my best bet for finding a local water source, and I have only one animal that I can actually follow now. I could probably try something tomorrow night, but I am even less confident about trying to follow anything in the dark.

With little choice, I follow the prints. As expected, I lose sight of them within five minutes of starting my journey. I mark the last spot where I see the tracks with one of my sticks and continue on, under the assumption they likely continue in the same direction.

After another ten minutes of walking, when I'm starting to wonder if that is actually true, I spot another set of prints. Since I can't compare them directly, I can't tell if they are from the same animal or a different one, but they seem roughly the right size and shape.

I proceed to follow those tracks for a while, but eventually lose them again.

This time more confident. I just go on in the direction these latest tracks point. With no way to tell the time, I can't say how long I proceed, though the sun is appreciably moving in the sky. All this walking without sustenance is making me tired, and though the undergrowth—outside of some easily avoided dangers—is as soft as it can get, my feet just aren't used to walking such long distances for days on end. I’ll eventually build up some calluses, but not within a day. I'm also starting to notice the lack of water now, my throat parched and dry as sandpaper.

The sun is near its zenith when I accept that I have completely lost the track. I don't find any more tracks or signs of animals, other than the birdsong all around me.

I'm momentarily lost on what to do, but eventually decide not to double back. I have no idea where I lost the tracks, and going back might hurt as much as going on. With no choice clearly better than the other, I'm more inclined to go somewhere I haven't been yet. There might be a road around the corner after all.

As I consider finding animals, more specifically the animal that passed by my shelter last night, I'm suddenly of the opinion I'd be well served by making some sort of weapon first. My second encounter with this animal might not be as harmless as the first one, and as focused as I've been on water, I haven't considered that eventually I need to eat as well. My grumbling stomach is an annoying reminder of my lack of breakfast.

I keep walking, but also keep my eyes out for a sturdy branch to make a spear with. Eventually I find a good straight one, I had the luxury of rejecting several subpar candidates before settling on my current nearly perfect one. It's honestly a bit bizarre that I could find a branch this straight without working it.

Now though, I need to find something to sharpen it with. Flint would be great, but I can't expect that to just be lying around. Maybe if I find a block of gravel and bash it? I smirk, if only it was that easy.

Unfortunately, the forest is quite sparse in terms of stones, and whatever I manage to find would more accurately be described as gravel. However, my persistence eventually pays off, as I stumble upon a brownish rock formation where a cluster of trees seem to be growing out of it seemingly at random. Given the otherwise flat landscape of the forest, I'm not sure if this is a normal occurrence. The trees growing through the rock has the same effect as on a paved road, and I quickly locate a rock with a relatively sharp edge. It's not flint but I feel it might work for my purposes.

As I try sharpening my branch, I realize I might have been too optimistic. It works well enough for skinning the branch, but I selected a solid branch for a reason. After a much longer time than I care to admit, I realize I'm being dumb. I lean the branch against a sturdy tree and kick the bottom of the stupid thing in half, leaving a jagged edge at the break. It was longer than I needed anyway.

While I walk I use the stone to sharpen that into a more serviceable point. At some point, I notice that the sky is darkening again, even though I haven't found anything yet.

I debate the wisdom of continuing today. A day of not eating and drinking is making me feel weak and lightheaded. In a little while, there's a risk of stumbling or falling and hurting myself. I don't like the idea of being out in darkness either. I very much dislike the idea of spending another night without sustenance too though, who knows in what condition I'll wake up tomorrow.

It takes me a little longer to decide, but eventually I figure that a slightly better shelter and some rest would help me more than spending an hour more looking for water. If my shelter is approached by an animal again tonight, I will follow them.

Building the shelter comes more naturally today, now that I've got the hang of it. Halfway through though, I notice how much more effort it feels like it's taking. When I'm finally done, I can't do anything more than crawl in and collapse into sleep.