Not much is known about J, born from a fractal state within one of the most heated peninsulas in the world. Even he bearly remembers his past, or how he had come to wake up cold, hungry, and lost. With the sounds of wolves echoing among the trees, it was time to get the hell out of there. The wind began to lick at his exposed heels. Twigs and branched cut up his feet as he ran. Running for... anything. A house, A tree stand, fucking anything to keep himself safe.
Somehow, he made it, safe in a broken down shack in the middle of the woods... The books he found he couldn't read, the scraps of food left behind were covered in flies, and the river water was not beginning to sit well within himself. Surely he will be dead by next morning.