Somehow, despite not eating for the last day or so as food ran short, Ivan wasn't terribly interested in the prospect of food. Mostly he just wanted to get out of the rain, for the sake of his asthma and maintaining what little respect and dignity he had. He was still slumped against the caravan, his bad leg limply kicked up against the wall and his good leg supporting him. He had dropped his bow and quiver to his side, as though they were too heavy for him to carry any longer. He had intended to follow the others, but somehow he felt the need to regain a bit of energy before he started to walk again. He convinced himself he'd catch up.