His face was mangled and bloody from the claws of the branches, his clothes ripped...but Dave wasn't finished...

He wasn't one to just give up. All the other scouts swore that he couldn't do it. In fact, they all laughed him out of camp, taunting him, calling him a mama's boy and a girly-girl. It was true, Dave wasn't a camper. He was the kind of little boy that loved to dream up his adventures in the security of his own home or backyard. Dave liked to be comfortable. How he found himself out here he really didn't know. Maybe it was his stubbornness in wanting to prove everyone wrong, or the fact that he was lonely and wanted friends. If this was how he needed to earn them , he was going to do it. Jack and Tim had told him they didn't think that he would last a night out in the woods away from camp, by himself. Dave had his doubts to, in all fairness, but he wasn't going to admit that. What had supposed to be one night turned into two, then three, and now, on his fourth day out, he was ready to admit failure, if only he wasn't so lost. Dave was desperate now, but he wasn't a quitter.