There was a small crack as Reagan backed up into a tree root. He froze, arms out to his sides, knees bent in a crouch, eyes darting around nervously. He'd come here with the Masarani group, but had gotten separated upon their arrival. He was sure he wasn't far away, he could hear the sparking of the wrecked plane somewhere off to his left, but he was too afraid to move. Eyes were on him.