Three feet. It wasn’t a long fall. And back at home Blitzkey would have laughed at anyone who told him it was dangerous. Out here though, three feet was more than enough. Three feet onto the hard stone was enough to break his neck, break a wrist, twist an ankle. The list went on. Any of those injuries, assuming he survived them, would limit his ability to get food, defend himself, survive. At home, he would have leapt into the depression, but his time in the wilderness had taught him it was worth taking the time to do things carefully.