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She smiles and nods. “Yes, sweetie, but we are all very much alive.”

And although I suppose she’s right, it’s hard to see the positives in all of this.

“Hello everyone,” a flight attendant says into a megaphone. I didn’t know they had those on board, but I can see how it would be useful for situations like this, or if the PA system on a flight went down. “We need a few different volunteers to help. Firstly, are there any strong, uninjured people that can help clear some of the debris?”

Another flight attendant repeats her request in Arabic, and a few Kuwaiti men raise their hands.

“Do you work out a lot?” the flight attendant asks, looking me dead in the eyes.

I squint and cock my head, confused about the random question that borders on rude. “I uh … I do a lot of cardio, but I’m not very strong. I’m more into hiking and Zumba.”

“Perfect. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be invasive, but we believe one of our first aid kits fell out somewhere within a mile or two radius from here, could you go track it down? We sent a crew member searching in the opposite direction, but it would be good to have multiple people on the lookout. I can give you a compass and a walkie talkie, just to be safe.”

This sounds like a terrible idea. I enjoy walking, but not in the woods, in a country I’ve never been to before, by myself, after a plane crash. Oof.

“There’s a guy who really needs stitches,” she explains.

And that’s where my empathy gets the better of me. “Of course.”

The crew members load me up with all the necessary supplies for my journey. They recommend I return if I don’t find it in three hours, and my mam gives me a tight hug before sending me on my way.

Apparently, we’re in the dead center of the Foloi Oak Forest. It’s beautiful here. There are trees and greenery everywhere you look. The crew members told me rain is rare for summer months in Greece, and, since it’s midday, I don’t have to worry about traversing unknown terrain in the dark or wet.

I start my journey, taking a step away from the clearing and into the thick forest. Looking back, my mam waves at me, her face smiling ear-to-ear.

My mam and baba are polar opposites. Mam teaches kids, but this is her second career. Her first was in paleontology. She used to hike all around the world, doing different digs. She speaks three languages fluently, and about ten conversationally. Baba is completely different. He speaks two languages, and conversationally a few more, but he did not seek to learn them … it was simply convenient. His caretakers and some of his parents' friends spoke other languages like Farsi and Tagalog, and so, in turn, he learned a lot.

Where my mam would like to travel the world, eating bugs and venturing into the unknown, baba just wants to stay inside. He likes to watch soccer, eat delicious food, and make money.

And frankly? Minus the money part, I think I take after my father more. I like hiking in familiar territory, sure, but most of my workouts happen inside. I’d much rather do hot yoga and Zumba than step foot outside.

I also wouldn’t eat a bug—I don’t even wannaseea bug—but here I am, venturing into a likely bug-infested forest. How do I always wind up in these messes? It almost feels like some force of the universe is driving me to where I’m going.

Maybe I’ll find this first aid kit and save someone’s life and be deemed a hero.Probably not,but I have this weird gut feeling I was meant to be here, even if I don’t like it.

Climbing over a large branch, I see … What the hell am I looking at? Little baby animals are nestled against each otherbetween thick patches of grass. They’re so small, but I don’t touch them as I inch down closer to get a better look.

A low, rumbling grunt comes from overhead.

There is a large, dark-brown beast charging towards me. I get a glimpse of a pair of tusks, and I run. Dodging trees and brush, birds and rabbits, I haul ass away from the beast tailing me.

It’s a boar. A wild boar, and I unknowingly got close to her children. If I can get far enough away from the babies, hopefully she’ll go back.

Hopefully.

My legs propel me faster than they ever have before, and I continue to another clearing, where I see pieces of debris from the crash. I should be looking for the first aid kit, but with the boar still at my heels, I carry on.

I can come back and search for the kit, but not if I’m injured by this animal. I don’t fault the creature for wanting to protect her babies, but I have no idea how to make her see me as anything but a threat now.

Running what I think is north, my shins ache with every step, likely splintering with the force of my movements. This wouldn’t be the first time the familiar, sharp feeling makes its way into my legs, restricting me.

But I can’t think about that. Not now. I just have to push myself until she gives up. My breathing is labored, my stomach threatening to empty its contents, but adrenaline takes me past my usual breaking point as I climb up a tree, out of the animal’s reach.

At some point the boar turns around. I’m not sure how long she’s been gone when I finally notice and climb down, allowing my body to collapse to the ground.

Fragments of light pour into my vision as I peel open my eyelids, forcing myself to wake. Everything is wooden and brown, and there are little vines and flowers decorating the walls, which curve up towards some sort-of sun roof.

The architecture in Greece is not like anything I’ve seen before. It’s so different from America and Scotland and Kuwait. Even in Dubai, nothing looked like this. Everything was metal and shiny, whereas this is more natural.