Andrew looked around and then started scratching away at the ground. After a while he uncovered some rocks which he then hit against each other at a couple of different angles to create fractures in one of them and chip away some pieces. After a while he had a crude knife.

"If anybody finds a chunk of metal, we can rub it against some rough rocks to sharpen it and then we'll have a better knife."

Andrew looked around for some thin vines and when he found them he cuta length of one. He then cut some notches in a stick with the knife and tied the knife to the stick with the vines using the notches to keep it in place.

"And this is what we have that is better than a stick."

((if anybody wants to be doing stuff while that was happening, or following along with what I'm doing and copying me, feel free. It did take a little while after all.))

((Random dreaming time! Since my character will wake the next day))

Cathy… dreamed.

It wasn’t the usual crazy swirl of dreams and colours of disarray. It wasn’t the strange gibbering dreams of insanity. It didn’t wake her screaming.

She… found herself on a grey plane, the sky of purple above her head. It was a clear image, with no words to express the utter stillness of the place. Cathy experimentally moved her head. She turned, and walked, dreamlike, towards the horizon.

It came towards her suddenly, and she was standing at the edge of a cliff. She spread her arms, knowing… just knowing that no harm will come to her. She felt herself jump. She felt herself fall. Then she soared.

The landscape changed to dense forestry. Her fingertips brushed the tops of trees. She strained to gain altitude, even flapping her arms occasionally, only to discover that they weren’t arms, but wings of sleek black feathers. A wind picked up, and she felt the phantom wind whip around her face. She automatically adjusted her wings and…

She was standing on rolling hills of green, daisies and dandelion scattered like specks of golden sand on green tile. She felt herself growing larger, leaner, stronger. She looked at herself in horrific fascination. Fur sprouted, her arms lengthened and her legs shortened. She was reduced to quadrupedal movement. She looked up at a night sky devoid of stars. She howled at the jagged moon. More howls went up around her. Wolves surrounded her, changing, shifting, warping, mutating. Surrounded by something… oppressing.

The darkness pressed into her. She felt herself changing. Becoming smaller. Lightly. She began to fall. The darkness clung to her hungrily, sapping her. She opened her mouth. Tried to scream. No sound. She was alone. Horribly alone. Silence all around her. No noise. No voices. She felt… strange.

Then… there was nothing.

Yet, within the dim, sane recesses of her mind, the part that was recovering and strengthening, she thought I’m ALIVE. I’m SANE. I’m BACK.

She dreamed.

Thomas was over by the watering hole. He was crouched among the tall reeds, scanning the dirt. Finally, he found some tracks. The tracks seemed...odd. But hell, so did everything else about this situation. He began to follow the tracks. As he followed them, he rubbed his teeth with his tongue. They were starting to bother him. They hadn't hurt like thise since he had his braces taken off. He quickly pulled his tongue back as one of his teeth cut his tongue a little bit. He started to wonder about it, until he found the end of the tracks. They seemed to lead to a small burrow hidden inside a ring of bushes. Thomas pushed the leaves aside with the stick, and looked inside at a distance.

(OOC: Arhra, you can say what animal he finds. I don't know if you want them mutated or not.)

Lena took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes with the back of a fist. For whatever reason, it was becoming harder and harder to focus. Everything seemed just a little blurrier than usual. Well, that was just perfect.

"I'm no wilderness-survival whiz," she began tiredly, calling after Thomas as he prowled around the water hole, "But I agree with Patrick about the stick thing. IF you do find something, I doubt you'll be able to bludgeon it to death with that." Her voice trailed off. Oh, what was the point of discussing this now? It wasn't her area of expertise. She was a science major, not a camping afficionado. Besides, she thought forlornly, Nobody ever listens to the nerdy girl anyway.

Sighing inwardly, she turned back to Patrick and the remainder of the 'non-hunters.'

"Since the topic of meat-collecting seems to be under control," she began dryly, "what say we scope out a good place for a shelter? Anybody want to help?"

OOC: You won't find anything Raiden. There's a word for a burrow with only one entry and that word is trap.

OOC: Anyone going searching for food, it should be moderately difficult to find but if all else fails you might see some cocnuts or something. It's up to you whether you suceed or not. Keep in mind where you would find some of these things though (like coconuts grow next to water).

Alex looks at Lena with a slight smile, "Sounds like a plan. It probably gets pretty cold here at night. Where to begin..." They have no idea of what the weather is like here - if there is any at all. Some sort of at least semi-enclosed shelter's probably a good idea if just to keep heat in. Well obviously they'll need to get things to make into a shelter.

Alex says as much before adding, "I guess we should make windbreaks to keep off the wind too. They're like low walls if I remember correctly." His graituitous reading of novels looks like it might actually come in handy. "Well, I guess we should get to work then." One of the other people seems to be scratching around for rocks for some reason and some of them are heading off to see what they can find but surely it shouldn't be too hard to make a crude shelter. Right?

Flora held up a finger. "And we should decide on a night watch...well..." she stopped, looking up at the sky, or lack thereof, "...a sleep watch. You know, someone stays up for a while and keeps watch, then wakes the next person to keep watch for an hour, I guess. To keep an eye out for animals."

Thomas frowned. Though there were tracks, there were no animals. He fell backward, and landed on his back. He just laid there, letting the situation sink in. He was in a weird place with a bunch of freaks and geeks. They were even making fun of his weapon! Damn, a blunt stick is just as useful as anything else. And they've never seen him use a bat before...

In the corner of his eye, he saw some strange spheres in a tree near the watering hole. It was almost like a coconut, but was a little strange. It was food, none-the-less.

Thomas got up, and walked toward the tree. The trunk wasn't very thick. There was no way he would be able to climb up it. That's when he used the stick.

He placed his feet steadily in the ground, and swung. The stick bashed against the side of the tree, shaking it violently. He swung again, and this time, the trunk cracked. The thin tree bent over, and fell. He reached down and ripped a coconut from the top.

He walked in the midst of the group that was making the shelter, sat down, and began to scrape open the coconut.

"THAT'S what you can do with a blunt stick."

(OOC: The tree wasn't that thick, and his strength is beginning to show a little bit.)

Patrick can't help but smirk as he looks up from packing sticks for the windbreak as he sees Thomas return with a coconut;
"Put up much of a fight did it?, looks ferocious"
Watching his makeshift segment crumble he stands up and wrings out his hands
"Sorry guys, construction never was my strongpoint..."
Rubbing his eyes he wonders if he should of taken a more practical lifepath - he didn't suppose their was much use for a scientist in the middle of a jungle - well he supposed he might be able to identify edible from inedible. Gee, he still felt sorry for that guy who had eaten all of those berries.
"Wait, you said there was a water source right? Well, If someone could show me I might be able to find something edible? I'd be more use doing that than this"

Flora gave up on thinking how she would build anything. It just didn't look like anything good could be made from this, but still...
"I'll uhhh...go get some firewood or something, I guess."
At least she was being productive. Flora wondered off, trying to wrack her head for what might make good firewood. It definitely had to be dry, that was for sure. Suddenly, a strange sound. Flora strained to hear where it might be coming from. The place was mostly silent, yet it still took a moment for Flora to realize that the sounds were coming from her. Or rather, her torso. It was a liquid sound, like an organ was squeezing fluid into another organ or something. She placed her hands on her stomach, and after a second or so, the sounds and the slight change of feeling subsided. Flora had no clue what any of this meant, but she felt okay, and she couldn't do anything about it, anyways.
Firewood, firewood.
It was time to focus. Gathering some wood for a fire wasn't a difficult task and already she was daydreaming about stuff. There. A branch laying on the ground. She took it up and broke up the little twigs, favoring the thicker, long branch. Incidentally, she added the branch she intended as a weapon to her collection as well. Branches were branches, and that one would be most useful as keeping her warm.
Warm? What's the point?
That's true. The ceiling probably was also a wall enclosing the forest off from the rest off...well, whatever place this was. She couldn't feel any wind, and hadn't noticed a change in temperature the whole time. She also couldn't tell what time of day it was. It was probably always like this.
Thank God or whatever that this is a forest.
True as well. That meant an obvious and endless supply of air. Even if the environment was completely closed off, breathing wouldn't be a difficulty.

Lena was about to comment on the hunting party's big catch of the day, but wisely chose to hold her tongue. Thomas was, after all, the one with the muscles, large stick, and surly attitude.

Instead she pointed back to where Thomas had come from.

"The water's back there," she told Patrick. "Although I don't think any of us are particularly skilled in construction work." She shrugged sheepishly. "My little brother was the fort-builder, not me."

She watched Flora leave to gather firewood, equally unconfident in her building skills. This was going to be tough. She herself had no idea how to make a shelter, or even what to look for when scouting for a good spot. Curse you, misspent childhood! she thought with grim humor, remembering the summers she spent avoiding camping trips to spend time in the art museum.

"Does ANYBODY know how to make a shelter?" she asked the group.