Cooking the meat that I wrapped up in leaves to carry with me, instead of eating it raw, will trick my brain into a sense of achievement and less desperation. I foraged for some berries and mushrooms when I found this spot, and I have everything sitting on the flat stone I picked up nearby and stuck in the hottest part of the ash. If I can pretend I’m doing well, able to eat well, with some relaxing cookout time, then maybe I might sleep well later when the sun goes down, and maybe my dreams will give me just one night of respite. While I try not to ponder...