Write about something or someone that is: stranded.
Went for a wander around the orchard this evening with my camera, hoping to come across the deer that have been hanging about lately. No such luck, but I did find this guy (or girl. I have no idea, really):
Spoke with Kat tonight, which was nice. Strange being apart from her, though I'm sure the time will do us both some good.
He came to in a fire-lit night, disoriented and aching. With great effort he raised himself off the forest floor and attempted to determine his location, how he got there, and what, exactly, he was meant to do next.
The burning wreckage of the plane fifty feet to his right triggered a few memories. The mission, the flight, but not the crash. He limped closer, on what felt like a pair of badly sprained ankles, searching for other survivors.
Once he had completed the grim business of confirming the rest of his companions were dead, he sought out the communications equipment. He was not surprised to find it damaged beyond the point of utility, but it would have been the absolute peak of foolishness to leave his suspicions unconfirmed.
On second thought, perhaps enlisting took the seat of honor on Foolish Mountain.
From what he could remember, they had definitely crossed over enemy lines at some point. Possibly at dusk, but that was a foggy memory. Had they been shot down? Had a mechanical failure dragged them out of the sky? It was impossible for him to say with any certainty.
What he did know was the following: he was alone, a long way from home, with no hope of rescue. Oh, and he was pretty sure his name was Kelly.
He gathered what supplies he could comfortably carry, which was not much. After a moment's thought, he chose a direction that seemed as good as any and set out. Armed with a grenade belt, three sidearms, a Thompson submachine gun, and a vague remembrance of his German lessons during basic training, his life expectancy was not looking particularly good.