Rarity had almost fallen asleep despite the unsatisfactory environment. A loud thunk, followed by the scratching of nylon cords sliding over her box brought her fully awake, if a bit dazed. Slowly she remembered what the cord coming off meant. "I need to bail now!" she exclaimed suddenly. If I get out of the box first, I stand a greater risk of being injured when I jump. A moment's silence. I'm jumping off a moving vehicle, she realized with a shock. Fundamentally she had understood that fact the whole time, but she hadn't really thought about it. Well, I can't stop now. I need to get the box off. She began to throw herself towards the back of the box, slowly sliding it towards the end of the truck bed. She had no clue how close to the back she was, so on just her third lunge when she tipped off the back, she was caught off guard. The box hit the ground, and she hit her head on the side. It rolled for a few meters, finally coming to rest on its side. Rarity was battered, but still mostly okay. She lined up to kick off the lid, but as she did it fell over rather anticlimactically.
It was just as well as she discovered she had hurt her leg worse then she realized. As she kicked it out, it barely had any force behind it. In fact, her leg was numb from the knee down. It began to ache as the adrenaline wore off. Her knee was throbbing and warm. When she tried to move it again, it would only bend a little before it hurt too much to continue. She painfully crawled her way out of the box. Standing up, the knee began to hurt less, as long as she didn't put her weight on it. There was a trickle of blood coming down over her eye, and she felt her head. She cringed and pulled away quickly when she came in contact with a gash just under her hairline. She must have hit her head hard when she fell. She looked back at the box and saw a rectangular grey pouch hanging off the side. It was torn and dirty from the tumble, but the snap had stayed closed, and whatever was inside had stayed that way. She pulled it off. It was just secured by a magnet, but it was very strong. She looked inside and spotted a strap, two rolls of bandages, an extendable splint, and a canteen. The splint was standard field medic issue. It looked like it worked the same way as a back-scratcher, with two adjustable straps at either end. It was strange what came to mind in situations like this. The canteen was full, and there was a filter tied to it with nylon cord.
She splinted her leg at the knee and dribbled water over the gash on her head. She wrapped the bandages around her forehead after it was suitably clean. She attached the strap to the bag and took it with her, packing it with rations and repacking the rest of the bandages. The rations she could fit would last her a couple of days, maybe a week. Maybe two if she was sparing with them. She could always try to come back and get more as well. She could only fit a very small portion of what was in the crate into the bag. The canteen still only had enough water to last maybe two days, but she could filter some natural body of water when she needed to. Or, Rarity thought, I may have found somewhere in the next two days. It was optimistic, but you have to cling to something when you have nothing. In the Iron Federation, the only geography they knew or learned was the area surrounding their post or deployment zone. So she chose a direction at random and set out across the desolate plains, limping over the dying grass and dry dirt.