Who:: Oliver and no one good [Narrative] Where: Northwest of his starting position When: Soon after the sun goes down
Oliver didn't know how long he'd been walking, but whatever light had tinged the sky the last time he'd looked up was waning fast. He knew where he'd been in theory, his old starting position, and the memory of Marco being nearby had caused him to ignore the arrow pointing in the direction of the house to head north so they could go together. The problem was, navigating when you had a phone and a map were entirely different from wandering in somewhat-familiar territory with nothing. Trees started to look alike, and paths that he could have sworn he recognized wound into small clearings and down hills he couldn't recall before.
By the time he'd started shouting Marco's name he was pretty certain the point when that actually would have been useful had come and gone. Maybe someone else might hear, but he quieted when he realized he didn't want anyone else getting lost trying to follow the sound. It took a few minutes for him to orient himself to which way the sun was going down, and even then he wasn't entirely sure it was correct, and his growing nerves weren't helping. Who knew how many of them were stuck out there in the dark. Hopefully they'd all booked it to the house, which would have been the smartest idea. Marco had probably done that right off the bat, just hopped the river and went. The smart thing.
He stopped and listened, trying to orient himself with the sound of the river again, stabbing the walking stick and improvised weapon he'd grabbed into the ground as if that would give him more conviction than he'd felt. He knew the river was on his right. All he had to do was turn around and keep it on his left as he headed south, then west and he'd hit the mill. It would take longer, and it would be dark, but maybe the river would end up being a safe spot. If he could jump in if those things showed up, maybe they wouldn't follow.
That thought didn't help much, nor the thought that he might not be the only one out there to hunt down, which would raise his chances of getting back. No, he didn't want that. As terrifying as it was, as much as he was sure Edwin would hate him for it, he'd want to be the one that went first if it meant someone else could get back. As noble as that sounded, it was a hell of a lot more terrifying, and he found himself picking up speed.
He wasn't sure what was worse, the dark or the quiet, and he realized that he was humming a low rendition of Country Roads to himself the moment the first loud tree branch cracked behind him. He jumped, and stopped, and listened, and told himself it was just nature being nature even as his pulse wracked up. When he moved again it was a heck of a lot faster than before. It became harder to navigate the slippery bank in the dark, and as much as he didn't want to, he sidled closer to the trees for more stability. It took a good ten minutes for him to realize he wasn't actually directly next to the river anymore, looking to the left now to see the shapes of trees fading into black.
"Shit," he muttered to himself, going silent as he listened for the sound of the water, hearing it a lot further away than he'd ever wanted it to be, and headed in that direction at a stride.
It took three strides for his foot met open air, his hand reaching behind him to grab for a tree that wasn't there to steady himself, and he tumbled forward, half sliding, half rolling. He hit something hard, twice, but didn't stop rolling for what felt like an eternity, but was likely only a few seconds. The left side of his face hurt, but the cool leaves it was buried in helped. He grunted and groaned, and he was fairly certain he heard footsteps coming. Help was coming.
He felt a pressure on his ankle and realized someone was touching him. At least he wasn't alone now. That was good. He opened the eye that wasn't buried in the ground, but saw only darkness and faint movement, and his attempt to say that he was okay and just needed a minute only came out as a grunt. Whoever it was would get him set up somewhere, then they'd get back to the house. Edwin and Marco and everyone would probably already be there. He just needed to rest his eyes....