"Damnit," He muttered. Deacon had been cutting away for what seemed like hours. Finally he got what looked to be about half way through. Summoning his strength, he pulled his arms apart and the zip tie snapped, falling in the sand. Deacon stretched and inhaled the cool night air. The slight scent of sea salt wafted in from the waters. Sure Deacon was alone, and anybody he saw would most likely try to murder him, but Deacon was happy to finally be free. An alpha male and a man of principles, he didn't like the prison system. 

Getting to his feet he looked down at his clothes. The basic orange prison rags any inmate had. No shoes. Then he reached down his pants to his inner thigh. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes that were taped to his skin. Perfect time to light one up. He pulled one from the pack and then cursed under his breath. He didn't have a lighter. He popped it back in and groaned in annoyance. Regardless, he still had a few hours of night left and travel at night would be safer than day. The looming forests around him casted stark shadows along the coasts. He began his walk to what he presumed was the south of the island.