Mark stumped wearily along the trail. The others were still back at the beach, or so he supposed. Greg had been trying to take charge and get them to erect a shelter; Kenneth had been arguing. And Richard had been testing out all their salvaged electronics, trying without success to find a way to contact someone. Wanting to get away from the dispiritng scene, Mark had mumbled something about finding shelter and set off.
Mark felt pretty guilty about Richard. Moreso than about Kenneth and Greg; true he had organised this vacation -- like usual -- but while he had "ulterior motives" for inviting the two studs, they didn’t need much convincing. After all, Mark was paying. Richard though... Mark cared about him more. Heck, that’s why he’d put such effort into getting the recluse to come along, to try to get him to loosen up, socialise and enjoy life. And after several awkward days at sea, it had ended like this. Of course Mark hadn’t known it would, but still.
Perhaps it also rankled with him a bit that his friends saw him as a soft, lazy playboy coasting along on his inheritance. True Mark had a job, but it wasn’t one that required much effort -- not physical nor even mental, if he was being honest. So perhaps he wanted to prove something by helping to fix the mess he had made.
Either way, he so far had no luck in finding shelter or even food. He felt even more dejected, and his corpulent body was drenched with sweat to boot. He also wasn’t sure if he was even following the same trail any more. In fact he was just about ready to give up.
Wiping his arm across his eyes to clear the stinging sweat from them, he suddenly stumbled out of the shadow of the jungle into a bright clearing.