Is he injured? He's not sure. He hurts, he aches, but nothing has that sickening, heated stickiness of bleeding and everything moves when he wriggles it.

"I don't think I am." He shifts onto his knees, pointlessly closing his eyes to track the sound. He crawls, feeling his way with his hand to make sure there's nothing dangerous around. Finally, his hands find the stump and then the tablet, pulling it close and feeling the right way up. "Where in the forest? If it's near the cliffs, I can find my way back."

His eyes are still closed. It's habit. No glasses, no open.