Pick a Direction and Walk

Sam had no idea where to go. A child of the suburbs, he had no survival sense and a shitty sense of direction. The best plan he could come up with was start walking until he found civilization. Worst case, he stumble upon a security wall or something and he could bring them back to help Claudia out. (Though he suspected that she could find her own way back, given how easily she directed them to that spot.)

So Sam started walking. He enjoyed a peaceful stroll in the woods, which gave him time to clear his head. So much had happened in the last few days. In the pheromonal haze of the past 24 hours, he had little time to contemplate his situation. Separated from family and effectively condemned as a cultural menace without any meaningful warning... Well, he was told to change his ways many times, but never that getting shipped off to an institution was on the table. Needless to say, he was actually very mad and more than a little sad underneath it all. Without anyone to seduce, distract, or comfort him, these feelings were all starting to bubble to surface. Add to that the fear and anxiety around being lost in the woods, and he was not a happy camper. After walking for what felt like forever--it was maybe two hours--Sam sat at a tree for a personal moment. He cried. He yelled. He cursed his parents. He slammed his against the tree. He let it all out.

It turned out that he was close enough to camp that all of his screaming and shouting actually did some good. Shortly after slumping back against the tree, emotional drained, he heard unfamiliar voices calling out his name

"Sam!?" He heard a woman's voice blast through trees to his left. "Sam Archer!?" A man's voice came from the right. The camp was searching for him, he had found his way home. The question was whether he wanted to be found yet.