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.
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