At daybreak she woke, blinking at the pale indigo light in the sky. She looked around at the fog drifting through the forest. She drank a sip of water. A hummingbird flitted past. Dew dripped from ferns. Dew trickled down boulders. She rose from the dirt, tossing aside the emergency blanket. She pushed her leggings down to her thighs, squatting against the trunk of the tree. She listened to the patter of her urine hitting the roots. She wished she could swap the roll of duct tape in her backpack for a roll of toilet paper. She wiped with a leaf. She pulled her leggings up to her waist. She was hungry. She ate a bite of chocolate. Her phone still had no signal. She was feeling hopeful now that she was rested. She thought maybe she’d be able to find the trail again now that there was daylight. She strapped on her backpack. She started walking.