Jack took stock of his situation as night fell. He had water, the weather even as night fell was mild, and there weren't any signs of any large predators in the area.

But he had no tools, no food and no shelter. Being careful not to stray too far from the pond, he gathered what he could in terms of branches and sticks. He wasn't enough of a woodsman to think he could make a fire, but he was hopeful that he could at least put together some shelter from whatever the night would bring.

And a large branch was better than nothing if he needed to defend himself.

He even managed to come across an old broken tree stump, that he decided would make a good starting point for a shelter, even if it was just branches propped up against it giving an illusion of safety.

Which all turned out to be quite unnecessary. The weather stayed mild and no nocturnal predators came crawling out of the woodwork.

Well, except for the insects - invisible in the moonless night and ready to bite. The bane of unprepared campers even here, a billion light years from home.

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Surprisingly, Jack had no problem dozing off for periods during the night. Either his recent hardships were taking a toll on him, or the unthreatening nature of the woods had lulled him into a false sense of security.

In the early dawn light, Jack could make out a small herd of pygmy deer drinking from the pond. They fled as he approached the opposite side of the pond to splash his face and take a few sips of the water.

"Tastes better than any of that overpriced bottled crap they sell back home" he said to himself as the water revitalised him.

Let's see what else there is to see here, he thought as he walked to where a small stream trickled into the pond. Always best to follow the water.

The stream itself was only a few inches deep, and narrow enough that he could jump it if he didn't want to get his feet wet.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

He followed the stream as it meandered through the woods, which unless gravity worked differently here meant he would slowly be heading to higher ground. He'd tried to climb one of the taller looking trees earlier but the straight trunk and spaced out branches left him unable to get high enough to get above the neighbouring trees.

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Islena had been very surprised when she had heard someone lumbering through the trees. Her first instinct was to return to her uncle with the news that they were not alone, but curiosity had gotten the better of her and soon she had found this oaf scaring off all the wildlife.

Uncle Iroh will be glad it’s not a Ranger.

This boy looked about as far from a Ranger as it was possible to be. He looked healthy enough, but he was dressed in clothes that were little more than rags. He was using a broken branch as a walking stick and making what amounted to an ungodly racket in these woods.

Unfortunately for him, his one good decision to follow the stream was leading him straight to their camp. Uncle Iroh will know what to do with him.

Islena nibbled on some dried berries as she continued to follow this oddity.

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The woods were eerily quiet as Jack made his way along the stream, occasionally veering off to inspect the odd clump of vegetation amongst the trees. Without the convenience of modern camping equipment he wasn’t nearly the woodsman he had thought himself to be, and he wasn’t even sure if there was a safe way to know if the sparse berries the bushes bore were edible.

He had just hopped over the stream to go and inspect another bush when he heard the unmistakable sound of whistling. He oriented himself in the direction of the sound and slowly, carefully made his way.

There. He squatted behind a fallen trunk as he caught sight of a campsite about 50 yards from where he stood. Two tents, and a rather hulking figure seated outside one, whittling away at a piece of wood.

He watched this scene for a few minutes. There were two tents, so there must be at least two people in this group. Where is the other one? He thought to himself.

“Come on out, boy.”

Jack nearly jumped out of his skin when the man suddenly spoke loudly enough for it to carry to where he was hidden. He hasn’t looked up, and he isn’t even facing me. Maybe he’s talking to his companion?

Already jittery, he nearly wet himself when a blade appeared next to his neck, and he felt a breath on his ear when someone whispered “I’d suggest you listen to him. Slowly now”

A dampness in his crotch area suggested he hadn’t been very successful at not pissing himself.