A.J. struggles to make his way up the somewhat steep incline that is the side of the fox's front leg. If he was climbing under ideal conditions such a task wouldn't be too much of a challenge for him, but four days in the desert can weaken even the strongest of men, and fur doesn't exactly make a good climbing surface. Even against these odds, A.J. makes it to the semi-indented area just behind his neck and lies down on his back, staring almost into the desert sun.<br/><br/>"My name is... private Andrew Johanson... but most call me A.J..." He says between breaths as he lies there resting his strained body, wondering if mentioning his rank was either a good or bad idea; after all, soldiers aren't exactly praised<span style="font-style: italic"> everywhere </span>they go.<br/><br/>Something in the sky catches A.J.'s eye; something with big wings. Gasping he reaches for his sidearm, only to see that it was just a circling buzzard in the sky.<br/><span style="font-style: italic"> "It's just a bird..."</span>A.J. murmurs to himself as he realizes his misjudgment,<span style="font-style: italic"> "Just a bird... nothing more..." </span>