The air was thick with the scent of moist bark and dewy morning. Judging by the bright light now assaulting his senses, the young man had somehow managed to fall asleep on a tree trunk jutting out of a valley wall. Now that there was light to see by, he could finally get a better idea of where he was. As he had guessed, he'd been descending his way into a valley; he was very close to the bottom but the steep slope would make the remainder of the journey a dangerous one. He coughed pitifully, his lungs aching with the effort. He wasn't looking forward to what was ahead of him.
He craned his neck to see the aftermath of his fall the night before. Unsurprisingly, there were broken branches, patches of grass missing, and drying mud thrown in every direction. He looked down at his limbs to find mud covering his arms, chest, and legs, his filthy clothing torn and tattered. He winced at the multitude of scratches and gashes crisscrossing his form, some still caked with dried blood. He shifted his position experimentally, gasping at the sharp stab of pain in his lower back. He recalled now that he'd slammed rather painfully into a rock on the way down. Reaching down to touch the wound, his fingertips came back wet with fresh blood. He grimaced; he knew he'd have to do something about that.
Sighing in resignation, the man pulled off his stiff brown shirt, ignoring the pulses of pain from his lower back. He'd have to put some pressure on the wound so it would stop bleeding. He certainly didn't have access to any bandages or tools of any sort. He'd made no preparations for this little trip; in fact, it had been very spontaneous, but so far it didn't feel like much of an adventure. But he didn't deserve that. His brother was an adventurer and he'd always felt like he might one day follow in his footsteps, despite never really measuring up to him. The young man felt a pang of guilt as he considered what his brother might think of him now.
With some effort he managed to tear his shirt into one length of cloth which he wrapped tightly around his torso as many times as he could. It was painful, but he knew it was necessary to get the wound to heal. He shifted on the tree trunk again so he could support himself with the still moist wall of the valley and shivered as a chilly breeze tickled his now exposed flesh. He made an attempt to brush off some of the mud and caked on blood, wringing out his still-damp mane of tangled hair to clean himself. There wasn't much else he could do until he found a source of water. He hoped there would be a stream or pond in the valley below. He realized again that he was, as far as he knew, miles away from civilization.
The young man knew how to hunt, of course, but with as little preparation as he had made for this journey, he'd have to improvise. He imagined that springing out and tackling his prey would yield little success, especially in his current state. He very much doubted he could wrestle a squirrel, much less a deer or larger game. Unfortunately for the man, the Lakara Wood wasn't densely populated with animal life, either. Granted, he was far beyond areas he'd explored before but he had very little idea what he might be looking for. Still, there was time to worry about this later. Though hungry, he was far from starving. For now, he decided to concentrate on the difficult task of making his way further down into the valley.
Although the morning fog was thick, he could just make out the bottom--which, to his delight, was not a pit of spikes. He scooted his way out a little further onto the tree trunk and struggled to his feet, doing his best to ignore the dull pain emanating from his lower back. He took the time to carefully stretch his limbs and attempt to soothe his aching muscles, which were stiff, stressed from his mad dash and ensuing fall. Once he felt he was suitably prepared, he crouched down on the tree trunk and swung a leg experimentally over the side, gingerly stepping onto the steep slope below. With great care, he slid off the tree trunk and onto the slope, positioning his feet in such a way that he was completely supported. He wasn't about to repeat his mistake from the night before.
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