It took Connor more than a week or two to get used to the Cretaceous - as if you could actually adjust to living in a time not your own - in which time there were several more occasions in which, as careful as he was trying to be, he touched or ate the wrong plant or part of a plant, and earned himself dizzy spells, rashes, stomach aches, and various other thankfully short-term ailments. In between those episodes, however, he was learning his environment… and thinking up ways to do more than just survive.

He wasn't naturally the most practical thinker, but he had no choice but to turn his inventive mind to practical uses. He'd already had luck with the fire pit and cooking tripod - but it was mostly just that, luck that he'd had some memory of how to make those things, and had the tools at hand. Connor started several projects at the same time, alternating between working on a more permanent pulley system with rope and the tree in case he injured himself again, and a hunting spear. Making the spearhead, and the spear itself, left him nursing several cuts and pulling splinters for the duration.

One chilly night, Connor sat with his knees up in front , back against the trunk of his tree, fire blazing in the pit to ward off the native inhabitants and for heat, knife in one hand and stone piece in the other. It'd been a bit of a struggle to find a good stone that could be cut away by the little knife but wouldn't shatter easily, and he had a small collection of the stones in the pack. Chipping away at the edges of the rock, Connor's mind wandered to thinking about Abby and Danny. He tried not to, because he was worried, and there was nothing he could do to help. He figured they'd stopped Helen, otherwise he'd not be here, right? (The mechanics of the space time continuum and how changes happened was confusing, to be honest, but he had to believe they had stopped her.) So, his mind was wandering, his concentration following, and all of a sudden there was a sharp flare of pain in his palm, shocking him out of his thoughts.

"Aaahh, ow!"

Confused and in pain, he looked down, and his eyes widened: he'd sliced himself right across the palm, deep enough that the amount of blood covering his hand made him feel queasy.

Connor swallowed audibly, nostrils flaring, and dropped the stone and knife (he wasn't even sure which he'd cut himself with, they were both covered in blood and he couldn't—) before pressing right on the wound with his other hand.

Gritting his teeth against the scream building in his throat, Connor realized he needed something better to stop the flow.

The only question was, what could he use? There were no more long bandages in the first aid kit, and the plasters were all little and virtually useless! Feeling slightly lightheaded, he cast his eyes desperately around his little camp, and his gaze caught on the sleeves of his pleather jacket. Perfect.

He wasn't sure how he'd tear a strip one-handed, but his left was out of commission… Connor stood woozily and retrieved the jacket, before sinking back to the ground, and leaning his left elbow on the sleeve several centimeters away from the end. He grabbed the hem with his right hand, and yanked hard, feeling relieved when, after two tries, a good sized strip tore away. The first aid kit thankfully had cream to put on wounds to help healing and reduce pain, so he fumbled the tube open and stuck some of that on his makeshift bandage before carefully - as carefully as he could manage - pressing it against his injured palm, and tying it around and about his hand. Tying a knot one handed was difficult, but he got it eventually.

Connor stared at his throbbing hand and then looked up and around, heart rate finally slowing to normal, eyes less wild than before, and he breathed a long sigh.

"Bugger it! Two days without anythin' bad happenin', 'n I had to go and slice me palm up?" He said, grumpily. Connor turned a sullen gaze on the knife and half-finished spearhead, and huffed.

"I won't be able ta work on this 'n for a couple of days a' least. Glad I finished the fishin' spear first." It'd given him a billion splinters, but it meant that he wouldn't go hungry while his hand healed.

x_x_X_X

Danny was surprised at the dark glee on Abby's face at hearing of Helen's demise, but found he could understand it, having watched, powerless, as 13 of the Austrolopithicus (boy was that a mouthful of a word!) died of poisoning at Helen's hands. He didn't ask, but thought that Abby was probably thinking about Nick Cutter, apparently killed by his insane ex wife. Said woman having fallen off a cliff thanks to an equally dead raptor (which would probably confuse the hell out of scientists in the future, the human and raptor bodies that'd be carbon dated to a time they shouldn't've. Maybe they'd get lucky and it would be dismissed as a hoax.), Danny figured Helen'd had just deserts for her actions now.

They hadn't come across any creatures since he and Abby'd gone looking for Austrolopiths and found several more family groups looking quite lively and healthy. That had taken their minds off of Helen, even as they poured over the journal.

Now, the lack of water, creatures, and shelter were beginning to worry the both of them. They had just enough water and food in their packs to get them a fair distance, but it all seemed like open quasi-desert for kilometers, which was definitely troubling. Apparently this time period was home to those Terror birds they'd been aquainted with at the bunker, according to Abby, though she wasn't sure on that, or on what all other creatures they might come across. Neither of them had any idea what continent they might be on, which complicated things further.

The lack of creatures wasn't a bad thing per se, but it meant this whole area wasn't exactly
habitable. There hadn't been even any stagnant pools of water since the last time they made camp, which was hours and hours ago. They'd used one of the few purification tablets on the last puddle they came to to refill the bottles, both understanding it might be difficult to find more. Now that prediction was coming true.

Once in a while, they both spared a moment and a thought to worrying about how Connor was doing, but Abby insisted they needed to focus, brushing off Danny's questions. Eventually he'd decided it was better not to inquire after their relationship, or her thoughts on Connor, and the heat of the day bared down on the two humans unceasingly.

Abby coughed and took off her jacket, tying it around her waist, before standing on tip toe and peering into the distance. Danny chuckled, throat feeling rather dry.

"Anything?" He asked, knowing the answer would be a big 'no'.

Abby sighed, shrugging, glancing at him. "No, not really. A bit of a smudge over 'round there looks like it could be promising, but it could just as easily be some rock formation or other." He could hear the defeat in her tone, and winced.

"We might 's well check it out, eh? Oh, and drink some more water, you're looking flushed." He said, smiling slightly when she narrowed her eyes at him. She did take two sips, however, before a corner of her mouth twitched up.

"Yeah, alright. Maybe we'll get lucky."

Danny nodded along, and they both pretended to believe it.

TBC (the connor whumpage lessens considerably after this
... probably)