BS: Alrighty, first off, I don't own Far Cry 3 or any recognizable characters, just Chelsea Lidell. Also, due to a SharpAngels point on Chelsea's injury, I changed it so it deeply grazed her thigh instead of puncturing it. I changed it in the last chapter too, so if you actually want to go check it out to get a better idea of it feel free. ALSO just because I really want to introduce you guys someone coming up, I may even update again today. That, and its another chapter closer to Chelsea going badass and her reuniting with Keith. Gonna get really angsty and mature there, which if you've played the game I'm sure you'll know what I mean. And yeah, for those of you that don't I'm kinda being mean and making you try and figure out what all happens/getting and playing the shit out of the amazing game that is Far Cry 3. Wow, they really should pay me to sponsor shouldn't they? Eh, maybe not, anyways, onto the thank you's/replies and then the story. Don't forget to Read And Review guys! Thanks to everyone who's followed so far, means a lot :)

SharpAngels: Yeah, I actually wrote most of it at school haha, not denying that. And for the record it was in a note book all day and I typed it up in First Aid when I was done with my work. Also, yeah I realize the wound was unrealistic, but I was going for a more dramatic effect I guess. But you had a point, and now it kinda bugged me I did that after I realized that it didn't go through and meant it would be in the back of her leg-and it was just a bad deal on my part. Hopefully the change is more realistic, cause' that's kinda what I'm going for. :)

Chapter Four: Priorities

I don't know when I fell asleep-or how I survived, but when I woke up everything around me was sickeningly bright. The calls of unfamiliar birds rang above my head and immediately I remembered what had happened. There was no pause like there was in the movies, it was there as soon as I opened my eyes, and would be branded there for probably the rest of my life.
When I tried to move, I felt how stiff my body actually was. I ached everywhere, like my body was just one big muscle that had been through a serious workout and finally felt the effects the next day. I guess it wasn't that surprising though considering the circumstances. Eventually, I raised myself into a sitting position, hissing between my teeth at the pain of the simple movement. My leg felt like it was on fire, and my forehead felt as if it had been brutally beaten repeatedly with a hammer, but at least I could move. It was limited, sure, but it was possible.
That didn't stop the all-over pain though. My head and wounded thigh throbbed with the steady beat of my pulse, my back muscles tight and my skin probably littered with multiple sizes of bruises. On a slightly better not, even with the pain of my physical injuries, the blow to my emotional and mental sense was worse.
At least I'm alive. I thought I could have died or been captured with Keith and the others.
Keith. His name echoed through my coherent thoughts and I felt my chest and throat constrict, my other pains momentarily forgotten. The image of him lying unconscious and getting dragged away replayed in my mind like a broken record. I didn't cry oddly enough when this came to mind. Maybe I was more in shock than grief-though there still was plenty of that mind-you.
Sure I had escaped, but for what? I didn't have military training like Grant, or the resourcefulness Jason somehow possessed. I had nothing except myself and the pathetic pity party I was throwing myself.
I don't know how long I sat there with my thoughts, my clothes dirty and clammy and I could even feel the slight chill in the air from the ocean just outside my hiding spot. In the hostage movies, they never showed or talked about the gut-wrenching feeling you had, or the intense feeling of grief and guilt that practically consumes you. It was all action, the hero able to just get over it and go save the people without hesitation. I had none of that. I had watched my fair share of movies with the others, and not any of it could help me in this situation.
I don't need to think about this. I shook my head to clear the unwanted thoughts from my head, wincing a bit as I did so. I finally decided to assess my situation, first looking at my surroundings to at least try and figure out what way I should head.
Green. It was ridiculous how much there actually was. Maybe it was because I had been accustomed to the Wall Street city life, but all the unfamiliar trees and plants was almost overwhelming. Thankfully sunlight had no issue getting through the treetops towering above me, the light slowly smothering me in gradual warmth I usually would have relished in.
But not now, not while my friends were being held hostage and who knows what else being done to them. I need to move. I told myself, almost robotically as I slowly came to a standing position. I blinked a few times to clear the blurry and dizzied eyesight I had before running a shaky hand through my tangled and greasy auburn colored curly hair. I limped forward, trying to ignore the dulling throb the bullet wound had given to my thigh as it cried in protest with each movement. I kept moving though, slow at first, but soon at a steady and somewhat comfortable and slightly less painful pace than before. I didn't know where I was going or what I would do if I ran into any pirates, but for now I needed to move. After all, Winston Churchill once said "If you're going through hell, keep going".
As I continued to walk, I started to really listen to the things around me. There were thousands of sounds it seemed; hisses, howls, birds singing, insects buzzing, boars or deer grunting, and at some point I even heard a distant gunshot. The latter scared the hell out of me, and to be honest, I didn't really hesitate when I started walking away from it.
Soon though, I felt the creeping sense of exhaustion. Like walking had taken a huge toll on me, depriving me of needed energy. That wasn't it though, what came next was sudden-like smashing into a brick wall sudden. An unbelievable thirst and vicious hunger that seemed to tear at my insides, to the point I doubted I would have a stomach left if I actually found something. But the want for water overpowered any hungry feeling I had, and I wanted to drink all of what I could find.
So I did the most sensible thing and kept walking. the pirates had vehicles, which meant there would be roads that very likely lead to some sort of base, which then had supplies, AKA water and food. Hey, maybe if I got lucky enough I might even be able to find my friends.
It looked like I wouldn't have to wait that long after a few minutes of thinking this. It was faint at first, but once I listened carefully enough, I could hear the obvious sound of running water. I turned towards the direction of it and as I got closer and closer, the rushing water became louder and louder, until an all out waterfall was roaring in my ears. A shred of relief spread over me like a wave, and without another thought I was down on my knees and gleefully gulping down the water until I felt my stomach would pop. It was after I finally stopped and fully sat down did my mouth go dry, stomach lurching as I barely had any time to turn to the side and spew what meager contents of my stomach all over the grass beside me.
I quickly wiped the bile from my mouth, washing it off my hand and sloshing water in my mouth in hopes of getting the rancid taste off my tongue. There wasn't much luck in that endeavor, but at least my throat didn't feel so raw and dry anymore, and my mouth was somewhat cleaner.
With that idea in mind, I glanced from the clean blue water and then towards my blood caked thigh for a few thoughtful seconds. Untying the bandana from my wounded leg, I scrunched my nose up in disgust when my eyes met with the sight of a gaping, oozing, and bloody gash that angrily flared up at me. Inch by inch I submerged my lower body into the water, watching as blood and dirt flowed off me and disappeared into the water as a cooling sensation washed over the injury. I leaned on my uninjured leg, trying to relax a bit and let the wound be cleansed. While I sat I washed the blood from my shirt and bandana, even dipping below the surface to get the caked dirt off my face. Only when my lungs burned for oxygen did I resurface, wiping water from my eyes as a new rejuvenating feeling took over me.
With the little energy I regained, I got out and took a seat by a sun-baked rock, letting the sun's rays do the drying for me as I got my priorities straight.

I was alone.

That much was obvious.

I don't know how I'm going to save my friends.

Back it up, let's start with something smaller. I tried to pace it back a bit and solve one problem before the bigger ones.
I need food, and I need to find shelter.
I could go without food for a few days at best as long as I had water, but shelter was a big issue. From the howls, roars, and growls I've heard off and on all day, it was plainly obvious there were predators who would gladly hunt me down in this jungle. I wouldn't be any help to my friends if I was in some animals stomach or tore open somewhere.
I suddenly wished I had watched a lot more TV, preferably the discovery channel, instead of being so wrapped up in college and my husband-to-be. Don't get me wrong, I love both with a burning passion, but on my leisure time I would do nothing but bug the shit out of Keith until we found something entertaining to do. Whether it be childish or more adult related, it still could have been spent on TV and we'd still have a kick-ass relationship.
I groaned and pushed the love of my life out of my head for now, putting my forehead in my palms as I closed my eyes and got back on track.
Being brought up in the city definitely had its disadvantages, but from what I can remember from Grant's stories, it would probably be best to go cave hunting or get in a huge ass tree and hope I don't fall. That meant that shelter was my main goal right now, at least until morning anyway...