Part two
"Oooooooohhhhhh… man… MY STOMACHE!" It hurt so bad… Must have been those freaking berries. I crawled over to the corner of my lean-to and threw up for an hour. After I was done, I was hit with another memory. It brought more pain, so I shoved it away and went down to the lake to wash my hands and get a drink.
I went back to my lean-to and sat down, thinking of my mom. Then I cried. Tears, tears of self pity. Then, suddenly, I stopped. Crying doesn't help at all. At all…
I went back to the lake and got a few more drinks. My hunger sharpened again. I went back to my lean-to and ate a few gut cherries to stave off the hunger. They were sweeter, but still tart.
I decided their must be better cherries somewhere around here and went to look in the forest. Then I found the raspberries. They were sweet and delicious. I was stuffing my face when the bear came. I stood still, waiting for the worst to happen. The bear just… examined me. Then it lumbered away. I stood their, not believing it. I shook my head and went back to camp, carrying the raspberries in my windbreaker.
It started to rain. It came down in sheets, drenching the sand around my lean-to. I went inside and went to sleep.
During the night, a porcupine came. Not knowing what it was, I kicked out at it. I felt its quills burry into my leg. I threw my hatchet at it. The hatchet hit the stone wall, sending off a shower of sparks. The porcupine left.
I yanked the quills out, crying, and went to sleep. I had a dream where terry, (my friend) and my dad were trying to tell me something. I woke up, realizing what it was. The hatchet! Fire! When the hatchet hit the stone wall, it made sparks! I tried desperately for hours to make fire. I used all types of kindling, until I came to the shredded bark of a birch tree. Thinking of giving up if this didn't work, I hit what was obviously flint stone and made the sparks. It didn't work. I tried blowing on it.
It worked! Then I hurried and gathered more fire wood to feed my new friend.
The next day I thought of trying to spear some fish. I made a crude trident out of wood, and tried. The fish darted away before I could spear them.
After hours of trying, I made a bow and arrow out of my shoelaces and wood instead. I remembered something about how light reflects off water differently, so I aimed under the fish. Yes! I got it! I was probably the happiest person in the world as I walked back to camp.
After I cooked the first fish and ate it, I went to get more. After I was done, I had a pile of fish. I was rich! Rich with delicious food!
I ate all the fish and went out to stretch. I almost stepped on what looked like a chicken. I decided to call it a foolbird, because my foot was right by it when it finally decided to fly away. Maybe I would hunt some later. I went back inside and went to bed.
I woke up the next morning from a wining sound, like the mosquitoes. It was a plane! I went to the top of my lean-to and started the fire I had prepared just in case the rescuers came. But they flew away… I sat down in the corner of my camp, crying… wanting to die…
No. Even though there was no hope of rescuers, there was still hope of survival. I got up and smiled. I'm full of tough hope. Tough hope…