Hopping up to her feet is an instinctive action for the catgirl; not that she was embarrassed to be straddling a bag, but she was understandably jumpy given that there was a gap in her memory between going to sleep in a cabin and waking up on the beach with wreckage around. There were unconnected flashes of fuzzy memories and confusion, but a lot of the intervening time was simply lost in Kara's mind. Well, she'd never been one to dwell on the past, or she'd probably be dead by now. Instead, she looks up and down the beach. Ship wrecked on a tropical island. Probably too much to ask for the ship's food stores to be here. Fresh water, also not good- Kara'd done a lot of scrabbling for survival on the fringes of society without much assistance. Here was just another thing. Looked like people were also around, so if nothing else she wouldn't be alone and in the tent she had shelter. Food and water were next, but first, she wanted to get a better view of things.<br/><br/>Straightening up, most of her spotted fur is still damp, and matted to a spare and lean figure. Still, she had clothes on, wasn't cold, wasn't hot, that was about where her immediate interest stopped- she was locked into survival mode for now. Without much comment, she heads for the treeline, aiming to find a tree near the beach to get up to the top of and get a better look around.<br/><br/>((Got a racial climb score, so I believe I can take 10 on any climb check for a 20. Just finding a tallish lookout point near the beach to try to see where we are a little better. ))