Striking how?

A feeling of loneliness in the woods and historical reading inspired this poem.

How could I strike out alone?
There is no fire, no food supply.
The wind will chill me to the bone
and I could very well soon die.

How could I strike out unarmed?
There is no guard or wall around.
I could be murdered, at least harmed
by a twig-made trap on the ground.

How could I strike out guide-less?
The woods are not my second home.
But I can't live in such a mess
and must restart, so now I roam.

How could I strike out without,
first finding out where you had gone?
I was untouched by fear and doubt
but now I am not as strong.