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Server time (UTC): 2020-01-28, 02:34 WE ARE RECRUITING
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*Mads sit down in the forest, covered in blood and a scratch on his cheek from the attack. He breathes in and out, he is shaking, he did so much in so little time. The deer that was the original target was completely ripped apart by bullets. How did it happen so fast? The Dane takes a time to recollect himself. His shirt is torn open, the blood is so warm on him. He doesn't have any actual medical supplies and has to sew the wound shut. A task he goes to unfold right away.
His shaking hand reaches for the backpack, putting it down on the floor. He shakes so much. It is cold, he is bleeding. It hurts like hell. He hears gunshots in the distance, other people as unfortunate as him. He knows he he has to survive today.
He opens the kit, pulling out the needle and the thread, shakingly holding it. He breathes in and out again. Deeper and faster. He is almost losing it. He pulls off the old hunting jacket, looks at the wound on his arm, it was a straight tear. He pushes the needle into the skin, the pain is unbearable, he grabs a rag and puts it into his mouth to bite on so he doesn't let anyone know of his location. The dead are always listening. He pushes the needle deeper and deeper until it punctures out and he lets the thread through, the pain is almost enough to let him pass out. 
"Will I make it?" He asks himself this in his mind as he tries to sow the wound shut, why did he leave all his gear behind? The blood keeps dripping out on his torn jacket. He gets another thread through, slowly it begins to get stitches together but it hurts, it is not healthy but at the moment this is not his worry. It will leave one hell of a scar but he doesn't care. Not in the slightest, this is about survival. More gunshots are heard, they are closer. The people are moving!
He pushes another thread through, absolutely biting through the pain, tears dripping down his face as he continues to sow the wound. How could something cut him so badly?
In the end the pain numbs down. He pulls out some of the only medicine he has. Some painkillers. The blood is still forming lightly on the surface of the wound. He grabs the knife and pulls it under the string, being careful not to cut his arm as he cuts the thread. He looks at the mess of a job he did. 
"Fuck." He thinks and sighs. He is still shaking so heavily. He is cold and the blood on his body was getting colder too. He finally gets up, picking up the hunting rifle and looking at the corpse of the eaten deer. "There goes another meal." Knowing full well that he cannot eat that he treks on, going on to find something else to eat*

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