to wish upon a star -o-

[finley nereus conwy]

Finley huffed as he ran through the thick jungle, his clothes getting snagged by large thorns as he raced past them. His ankles kept getting tangled amongst vines that lay on the spongy floor of the jungle. He readjusted the net onto his left shoulder and used the trident in his right hand to smack plants out of the way. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and pull his collar from his neck to allow some of the humid air to reach his skin. It provided some relief, but not all. Finley heard a twig snap behind him. He spun, the trident going forward to protect and defend himself. The net was useless with so many plants and obstacles around him. He was met with the astonished large, bulged eyes of a type of lizard.

Finley and the lizard started at each other, and then the lizard blinked on eye and then the other. It commenced to lick its eyes. Completely grossed out, Finley backed away and then spun, nearly twisting his ankle, and sprinted away. He slipped on a rock and skinned his hand. He cursed, but thanked his luck that it was his left hand. He really felt the wound in his side now. He panted as he barrled through a particulary large plant. Finley emerged to find that the ground had disappeared. He turned in midair and tried to scramble back onto land, but the soft ground gave way under his fingertips and sent him spiraling down through the air, his face inches from a jagged cliff. Finley snapped his eyes shut, expecting to hit the rock below, but instead, he felt the cool and enveloping liquid. Finley's eyes snapped open to reveal an underwater world. A sizeable school of fish parted for him and then closed on the other side.

They swam so close that their silky fins brushed Finley's face and hands and caught his wispy hair. He reached out and touched one, it skittered, but the fish did not panic. It was apparent that either they did not see him as a threat or they were quite use to humans. Finley hoped it was the second one, they would be easier to catch that way. Finley made sure he held one to his net and trident as he pushed off a rock with his heavy boots and swam for shore. He broke the surface and swung the wet net and trident onto the rocky shore. He then brushed his wet hair out of his eyes and pulled himself onto the rock ledge that he had just barely missed during the fall.

He was sitting by a river. Finley stripped off his shirt and checked the slash wound the boy from One had given him. It bled slightly from the contact with water. Finley shook his head and then tugged off his boots. He searched the small pack that had been on his back-and was now soaking wet-for anything that might have been of use. He found fishing line and a couple fishing hooks.

Finley knew one would suffice for now, what with his net and trident, so he took the spare fishing hook and carefully grasped the spurs and bent it straight as he could. He then threaded the line with the skill of an experienced fisherman and then looked at his wound. He wondered vaguely how clean the hook was. Finley needed to seal the wound, but he also needed to disinfect the hook...

A miniscule bottle landed beside him, it's tiny white parachute collapsing with a soft whispering sound. Finley snatched it and sniffed at the contents curiously. Disinfectant! Without a second thought, Finley plunged the hook and fishing line into the liquid. He then turned his attention to the jagged wound. He began to sew it together, like he would a ripped sail or boat cover.

Finley bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain. Both from the wound and the disinfectant's burn. After it was sewn to the best of his ability with the strong line, he then took the parachute and ripped it from its lines. He tipped the bottle over onto the parachute cloth and it was soon soaked too in disinfectant. He had just a small bit left. Sighing, Finley hoped what he had used would last him a while as he began to tie the cloth to over the wound, using the parachute's lines as a securant.

He needed food and shelter and fire. Well... He still had about three hours of daylight left. Finley stood and stretched tenderly, testing his stiches. They held, if painfully. Finley nodded and began to comb his little outcropping for an crevices or wood. He found some dry wood and some flint stones that he broke off from the cliff face. He spared a thought for Jenson, and then for Tabby. They had been separated and he was growing worried about the little girls. Even if they would try and kill him eventually. It was day one. He needed to last. Lura's face swam into his vision and he felt his eyes well up. Finley wiped his eyes with the back of his arm quite angrily and began to try and start a fire.

He wondered what the night would hold as the sparks caught and bloomed into a good size fire. Finley leaned back on the rock and let his arms rest on his knees. He should fish, but... He was exhausted. This was much harder then spending all day out on a boat. Finley let his head fall back as the stars began to appear. Well, at least the constellations were the same...