It was very dark today, so we set up a more permanent camp than what we usually make. Most of the boys have gathered firewood to get us the slightest bit warmer. Especially after William died of hypothermia. I wish that I could have done more for the poor boy.

  "Why are you so sad again? It's like if there is no one sad in the camp, then you are sad by default," Lawrence informed me.

  I nodded, "Figured. I used to be such a happy person."

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  "I highly doubt that. Are you going to help get some firewood or just sit there waiting?" Lawrence asked.

  I shrugged, "I can help all of you get some more."

  "See, the problem with firewood is that you almost always need the same amount of firewood to heat you up here, no matter how many people are with you. Food? Hunting? It's not like that," he observed.

  I looked down to the ground. If there was one thing that he could have said to make my sadness worse, it would indeed be that. Why does my life have to be so tragic? Turn after turn, I have experienced nothing but loss. Why do I have to drown in my own sorrow?