[center][b][h1]Benedict Kaspin[/h1][/b][/center]
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When Benedict washed up on his stupid dingy, he was salty.

Literally and figuratively.

Literally in that he was covered with seawater, and figuratively in that he was [i]pissed[/i]. He had come this far only to get stuck on go knows fucking where with nothing but his gun and an animal skin backpack.

There were streaks of sand that had been turned into glass across the sea shore, along with tracks and stomp marks left behind by his frantically moving feet. He needed to let off some steam and at the time, destroying shit seemed to be the most viable option of doing so.

He was also cold. Cold and salty. Salty because of the things already mentioned. Cold because sea water was cold.

And so here he was, collecting shitty kindling and logs wherever he could. He was born and raised in the wilds. It was no stranger to him. But this land was. He didn't know what type of wood burned best or if there were certain properties to certain types of plants that meant you shouldn't burn them. Like poisonous gas or... getting you stoned. That had happened more than a few times, where he came from.

When Benedict finally arranged a few stones around a makeshift fire pit there under a stupid little rocky outcrop in the middle of the woods to keep the fire from [i]spreading[/i] he found that none of the wood he had burnt so far had killed him or gotten him fucked up. That was a plus.

As the fire grew to a mature flame, Benedict took a deep breath and tried to focus on calming himself over getting even more worked up about this whole mess. He sat down in front of the fire in a kneeling position and began to meditate. To warm his body and to steady his mind. He would no doubt have to deal with the mess he had gotten himself into. But he would do that later. For now... one step at a time.