Juan followed the course of the river for two days before being turned into the forest by a flooded plain. As he tried to navigate around it, the dense jungle pushed him further and further away from the river until he was utterly lost. He scrambled up a slope choked with ferns and looked back down into the deep ravine. His wounded arm throbbed and the blisters on his feet threatened to burst with every step. He could go no further until he had a breather.
Spying a fallen tree a little way down the other side of the ridge, he stumbled to it and sat, basking in relief while squirrel monkeys played in the trees above. What he wanted was to lay his head down and sleep, but he knew it was a bad idea.
He checked his wounds and plotted what to do next. He was fairly sure he was striking north,
