Off to the right, Keith heard the sound again. He strained his eyes in the direction from which the noise came. Until this
point, he had believed that he was on the island by himself, the lone survivor. Somehow he knew that something lurked
between the shadowy cast of the forest among the twisted branches and leaves. No matter what it was, Keith figured that he was clever enough to survive an ambush from it. A surge of pain reminded him of his injury. Without the modern comforts of home, there was nothing else to nurse his leg wound or numb the pain. His ripped shirt made an impromptu bandage and at least aided in stopping the bleeding. Between a group of fallen blanches, there was a heavy stick that Keith could use. It would come in handy in the case of an attack and provided a way for him to relax the pain from walking on his leg.