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Day 12: Still alone. The darn droning of the skull sized insects is annoying.
Can’t sleep, the rest of the team is missing.
And there’s drums, huge drums somewhere in the distance.
I hope I can get out of here alive.

Day 13: Found water, and some strange gourds.
They taste funny, but they are filling.
Strangely, they remind me of a hearty ale from the tap halls of my youth.

Wow, starting to get a buzz.

Day 14: Hungover from the odd gourds I found.
The drums are in the forest AND my head.
And those insects are truly murder at the moment.

Oddly, eating the gourd relieves the headache some.

What was taht nopise?

Day ???: I don’t know where I am, what day it is, or what has happened.
I have to find more of those gourds.
Gourds..

......

The journal ends here. Apparently, the subject went into inexplicable fits and rantings before clambering up a tree naked as a jaybird and flinging himself at a mass of those curiously droning butterflies.
If we’d been able to locate him sooner, we may have been able to prevent his death as well as the deaths of the stuntmen he landed upon in his fall.
Strange how he left his camp suddenly and ran off muttering like that.

Why did he run off like that?
These gourds he left at his camp are delicious.