Death Count

Viktor woke up suddenly in a state of slight panic. He sat up quickly from an uncomfortable stone bed, though his exhaustion still lingered, but nothing that would cause him to pass out again. As he looked around the room, he realized he was in a more of a hut than even a medic tent. 

The walls were thick logs, and the ground was just the dirt of the island. The roof was a strong tarp however, which offered more coverage with their wetter environment. 

He was furthest from the door; a janky, one at that. It was made up of thick sticks tied together and bolted to the log wall. Next to it, by the wall, his flail sat like it had been used as a door weight at some point during his state of unconsciousness. 

However, he quickly realized that Cherri wasn't with him. He was alone. 

Something's not right, he thought to himself. Standing up carefully; his legs the most fatigued. After only a couple quivers, his legs straightened out.