Ivan had been driving for hours, he lost track of how far he'd gone. By now he was in Kentucky, possibly Tennessee. He was on his last tank of fuel as mountains loomed ahead. He was unfamiliar with the exact geography, but he was comfortable in the mountains. He had made it into the foothills before the truck sputtered to a stop. The vehicle was, for all intents and purposes, useless at this point, so Ivan abandoned it, trekking further into the hills on foot.<br/><br/>After another hour or two the sky started getting dark, and Ivan decided to make camp. It wasn't hard to find kindling and dry enough wood, and he started a fire before eating the second half of his second MRE. Laying in his tent to sleep, warmed by his fire and thermal sleeping bag, he decided he'd try his hand at hunting tomorrow.