Twenty-four hours after being abandoned beside the river, survival instincts took over. With no gear, I scavenged branches and foliage to construct a lean-to shelter against the wind. I collected rainwater using broad leaves and started a fire with flint from my pocket—my lifeline for warmth and purifying water. Hunger gnawed, but I foraged edible plants, avoiding toxic look-alikes. Every sound heightened my awareness—coyotes, rustling leaves. I marked my location with stones and maintained a signal fire. Exhaustion weighed heavy, but fear kept me alert. One day down; rescue uncertain. Survival wasn’t guaranteed—but I refused to surrender.
