I woke up, dazed from the crash. I heaved myself up with a groan, a sharp pain in the side warned me not to move so quickly. My body ached and my throat stung, and I could taste the blood sitting in my mouth. I managed to stand up, luckily with only a soreness and the sharp pang in my side. It could've been worse.
I wandered through the wreckage, looking at the shrapnel of the pelican strewn about. Not much I could salvage other than half a lizard for food which I deemed inedible, and it seemed the others had left, from what I could see through the twisted metal hiding the cockpit. The thirst was getting to me, and I needed to find water. I decided the best thing to do would to look for brook or a pond to wash the blood and quench my throat. The sun was starting to retreat, and I didn't want to be left in an unfamilar jungle in the night. I decided I would try to return to the crash site after finding water, and it didn't take long to find a small stream gurgling ahead crossing my path. The water tasted like no other, and I drunk it until I almost felt sick. I sat there to rest for a while, relieved but worried. I had no idea where the other spartans were and and had a sickly feeling I might not see them for a while, maybe not even at all. Dusk was approaching, and I couldn't even manage to gather the strength to return to camp. I fell asleep next to some underbrush, only able to survive on my own for the night...