This is Survival

He was out of sight before she looked back again. 

Merida salvaged the wreckage for thin pieces of wood and sharp metal tips. Once, she was extremely lucky enough to find a collapsed gun store, wear she found professional grade arrows already made and barely damaged. Once again, she wondered how in the world Flynn managed to find himself a sword, as it clearly wasn't the medieval times and most places had already been destroyed completely in the impact. He never told her, and she never liked to pry. 

She was able to find a few parts of thin dowel rods from a hardware store type building, and had to break the glass front to get in, but it had been worth it. She also stumbled upon obsidian spearheads, most likely used by some ancient Native tribes. If she knew what she would find, she would have come to this town a lot sooner, despite any dangers. 

She started walking back, following the blood trail out of the abandoned city. As she got further into the woods, her mind relaxed and the normal sounds flooded her ears. She whistled to the chickadees and cardinals as the sun started to set. No squirrels chattered like they used to, and she didn't spook any deer, but it was the same woods that she felt was home. 

Eventually the droplets diminished and the sun died until just a few last orange rays got through the trees. Merida started walking out of instinct, hoping that the meat would be cooking over the fire and the patch sleeping bags would be warm. 

As the night grew darker however, she began to doubt her way. Surely Flynn would have the fire roaring, and yet, there wasn't any flame or smoke in sight. She kept walking, calling out, but no response. She felt for sure that she was discretely walking in circles--wasn't there a Mythbusters on that from ages ago?-- when she spotted a weak flicker of fire in the distance. She called for Flynn, but he didn't respond. 

Worried now, she started running towards the camp. Coming into the clearing, she realized something was not right. The pan had been knocked over, and a puddle of blood, too much for the bear meat, was on the outer edge of the circle. The tarps had long, thin scratches, and the bag of meat was gone. The only thing she found was a lump cowering beneath blankets in the tents.

"Come here, boy," she called softly. A grey head drooped out and starting walking towards her. A grey and white mange that had followed them everywhere, Flynn had insisted on calling him Tramp. They learned that in exchange for bones and a warm place to sleep, Tramp would bring them rabbits from time to time and a constant companionship. 

"What happened here?" she cried when she saw the claw and bite marks on his side. Clearly he hadn't gone down without a fight. Tramp whimpered and rolled unto his back, exposing more bite marks like Merida had never seen before. Bite marks like wolves, but scratches like bears...She started to get a bad feeling in her gut. 

"Tramp, where's Flynn?" His ears perked up, but he didn't move. "Tramp, we need to find Flynn. Go search!" She had done this only once before, with a fallen deer, but it had been mere yards away from where she'd been standing. She had no idea whether the dog could actually find him. "Come on Tramp!" she nudged him with her foot. He stood up and slowly walked past the pool of blood. She started to follow, but quickly turned around to grab a small bag tucked in-between the high branch of a tree. A peak inside the satchel told her what she needed. The Aspirin and Ibuprofen were safe inside their bottles. 

Merida ran to catch up to the dog, who sniffed slowly and cautiously across the ground. After she caught up, she found him going too slow. "Hurry. Yes, good boy, hurry!" His tail wagged as he started picking up a scent. Soon they were jogging through the underbrush, with Tramp zigging and zagging in front. 

As they went further and further, Tramp started to get less and less excited. Eventually, he careened to a stop and looked at her, whining. "It's okay," she told him, "We're  close!" It didn't help ease the dog's sudden nervousness. That was when Merida noticed the paw mark on the ground.