As Logan walked with difficulty, his black leather boots crunched the dry leaves beneath his feet. Wincing in pain, Logan started off in a randomly selected direction, hoping that it might lead him towards the crash site. However, Logan had never had a good sense of direction. It took him a while to remember the way to get to places, and countless times throughout his youth Logan had gotten himself lost on The Ark. He turned his head left and right, becoming startled at every little noise that he heard. The pain from his left thigh was intense, and even though Logan had gotten used to it by now, it still hurt every time he took a step. Taking a break, Logan looked down at his blood. Blood was starting to ooze from the wound, although it was difficult to see because of his black coloured skinny jeans. Swallowing his pride, Logan continued on.

It felt like Logan had been walking for hours when he thought he could hear running water. The thought that maybe he was hearing things due to the pain and dehydration Logan was suffering, but even so, he did not want to look past this twice. He could feel his muscles starting to give way with each step, his body screaming out for water and relief. Stopping to listen to the sound grow louder, Logan was certain that he was not just hearing things, and turned his body towards the sound. Stumbling through the trees, Logan nearly burst when he saw a stream of clear looking water. Rushing towards it and falling hard on the ground near the water, crying out in pain, Logan scurried towards the stream and cupped his hands in the water. Bring the water to his lips, Logan drank to the point where he ended up physically sticking his face into the water to drink, the pain in his thigh temporarily forgotten.

Sitting back, Logan groaned as he moved his leg a little too fast. Now that he felt a bit more refreshed, the young survivor could take a moment to look at his wound. He was originally going to leave it alone, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to walk and Logan knew he would not survive if he did not do anything about it. He had water, so at least he could clean the wound. Inching a bit closer to the stream, Logan ignored the rocks and pebbles that dug into him as he sat. Bracing himself, Logan positioned both his hands on the shard of metal. A good 10cm of metal was sticking out of his leg, which was about 5cm thick. As he went to remove the metal, Logan pulled it up slightly then cried out in pain, biting down on his cheek.

"C'mon Logan, you can do this. You have to," he muttered, his voice raspy from the lack of use.

Taking a deep breath, Logan started pulling out the small sheet of metal. He scrunched his eyes shut as tears started to form. It was excruciating, but Logan knew that he needed to pull it out. With one more pull, Logan removed the metal and discarded it on the rocks, then splashed water onto his leg, wincing in pain as the water made contact with the fresh wound.

"There," he said, talking out loud as if to reassure himself of the situation.

Logan watched the blood drain down the stream, then pulled himself away from the stream. His leg shook from what had just happened, and Logan reached down and bit into the bottom of his grey shirt, tearing it so he could rip a strip along the bottom of his shirt. Acting quickly now, Logan wrapped the makeshift bandage tightly around his thigh, tying it with a double knot so that it would not come loose. Letting out a sigh of relief, Logan leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment. Opening his eyes again, Logan picked up the metal and winced at its sharp edge, then carefully ran it in the water to clean the blood from its smooth surface.

It was a strange chunk of metal, the section that had been embedded into his leg was razor sharp, while the end was slightly less so. Taking the metal and pushing it against a rock, Logan somehow managed to bend the less sharp end of the metal into a curve so that he would be able to hold it without accidentally cutting himself. There, now he had a makeshift knife. Gripping the knife with his right dominant hand, Logan glanced around and then got to his feet. He winced in pain, but found it a lot easier to do than before. Now that his head was clearer and Logan had at least tried to tend to his wound, he could continue his search for the crash site. Looking back to where he had come from, Logan wondered if he should try and retrace he steps and try a different direction.

Panic rose up in his throat at the thought. Maybe he had come too far? Shit. Spinning around slowly, Logan tried to find where he had come from, but the whole area looked the same. The trees were almost identical. Taking a deep breath, Logan swallowed. He was lost, but all he could do was keep going. His stomach grumbled from lack of food, but all Logan could do was ignore it for now. Making the decision to keep going, Logan started off towards the trees, limping slightly. His leg was weak due to blood lost and the fact that he been walking on it injured for quite a long time, although he could not say exactly how long it had been. In all honesty, Logan should rest until he regained his strength, but he did not feel safe out here, especially somewhere so open. This would be so much easier if he could just find someone. Logan had never worked well under pressure, nor did he like being alone in an unfamiliar place. Especially Earth. He had no idea what was out there, and it was entirely possible that there were strange mutated creatures and perhaps even people who had survived the nuclear fallout.

Logan didn't have time to think. He needed to move. Gripping his improvised knife, Logan slipped into the trees, holding the bent metal reassuringly. At least he had some form of protection. Rose did not sacrifice herself in vain, nor did the other 300 people who had given up their lives in the hope that the rest would survive. Logan would survive, no matter what it took. His people were down here somewhere, all he had to do was find them. These thoughts along with many others chased each other around his active mind while he walked.

Logan was far too stubborn to allow himself to give in, despite the fact that that was all he wanted to do at this point. He refused to let himself die, not when his own mother had sacrificed herself and he had already come so far. There were 12 stations that had landed somewhere in this area, and it was perfectly reasonable for others to have survived and not just himself. But then again… No, Logan could not be the only survivor. Their odds were too good and it seemed impossible. Plus, the 100 kids that had been sent down previously must be around here somewhere. From the rumours that Logan had heard, they had built a camp and there were savages roaming the woods, who they called grounders. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought. So far he had not run into anything, be it human or animal. If Logan ran into a grounder, he would surely be killed. Logan's eyelids felt heavy, and he yawned which only made his head swim. Just as Logan remembered that he had bumped his head, Logan felt his mind slipping away from him as he fell to the ground, blackness surrounding him.

When Logan woke up, it only felt like he had blinked, but it was now dark. He was not sure whether it was the same day or not, but at this point Logan did not care. Squinting through the darkness as he sat up, Logan patted the ground around him trying to find his glasses, but in this lighting he could not find them. He did not really need them, and they had been cracked during the crash so where not use to him anyway. Shaking his head, Logan was able to locate his knife which had only fallen about a foot away from him. Scooping it up, Logan gripped it like it was his lifeline. He had no idea how long he had been out, but he felt like absolute shit. Logan needed food and water, but he was exhausted and too weak to do anything about it. He was in the middle of nowhere with no help whatsoever. A rustling sound scared him, causing Logan to raise the knife defensively, eyes staring around as he prepared to get to his feet. If he needed to run and make a quick escape, Logan was sure that he would be able to, but he did not know how long he would last. Out from behind a tree, Logan heard a small squeak and stared in astonishment as a small creature stepped out towards him.

The creature was small and slender, and even in the darkness Logan could tell that it was only young. As the small animal drew closer, Logan identified it as a little fawn. Why would there be a baby deer out here alone? The fawn was looking at him with large brown eyes, then turned its head to reveal a grotesque mutation which looked as if a half formed second face was growing out of its cheek and neck. Reeling backwards in shock, Logan startled the fawn for a moment, but when he stilled, the small animal tentatively came forward and sniffed at his hand.

"I guess we're both lost," Logan mused, keeping his left hand still so that he would not frighten the fawn.

Pulling himself and the fawn against a nearby tree, Logan wrapped his arms gently around the fawn, who then proceeded to lick the sweat from his bare arm. Putting the knife down next to him, Logan rested his head against the tree, his body relaxing a little. No one had tried to kill him yet, and now he had a little friend.

Perhaps there was still hope after all.