It hadn't really been a fall; more like a tumble that confused and hurt. He'd cried to himself for a while, flashes of memory of eating dirt on his first voyage out of the den haunting him. He'd been so embarrassed and now he did it again.
He wasn't even sure how long he'd been wandering, trying to find his way back up the hill. He didn't know where he was going, and he ended up doing a lot of zig-zagging. He was scared and hungry and didn't think he was ever going to get back. He was going to spend his life eating old rotten carcasses and hiding under bushes.
He hadn't even been able to find anything for two days, and the emptiness of his stomach was becoming unbearable. More hopeless than ever, the boy sat down and started crying yet again.