The sun has barely risen when I am woken up by the sound of splintering wood. I groan and bury my cheek back into the sand, willing the nightmare of sounds to go away as my eyes blearily open. Golden light floods my vision, and I wipe my puffy eyes with my hand, sending thousands of sand particles into my eyelashes.
I curse myself for being a terrible sleeper and sit up slowly, spots dotting my view. Around me, everyone is asleep except Elias, who sits sharpening a long piece of wood with one of the daggers. He appears to be whittling a spear out of it, and I watch in awe as his fingers move at the speed of light, never once cutting themselves as he nimbly turns the stick.
He doesn't notice that I'm awake, so I use this time to observe him in his purest state. His hair falls over his eyes, and he uses his mouth to blow it out every so often. His eyes are squinted in concentration, and his scrawny body is folded in a position I doubt my muscles would let me mimic.
"Do you watch people often?" Elias asks, never taking his eyes off his woodwork.
I shoot him a scowl and stand up, gently shifting my ankle as waterfalls of sand fall off of me. The swelling has gone down from yesterday, but the skin has turned nasty shades of purple and green.
"What's that for?" I ask, taking a shaky step towards him.
"For killing more of those creatures," he replies, gesturing to my ankle. "And hopefully not having that happen as a result."
He throws a leather-like contraption at my feet, and I realize it's the dried hide of the animal from yesterday. I bend down to pick it up, noticing that it has been crafted into a sleeve with a strong glue-like substance.
"What's this?" I demand, shifting the rough material in my hands.
"A brace for that ankle," he responds. "Veyr tried his hardest, but he's no engineer. The sap from the trees is strong enough to act as a superglue. Just don't get it too hot or it'll melt right off."
I sit back down in the sand and pull my boot off, not even bothering to untie the laces. I wriggle the sleeve of skin over my ankle. It's a tight fit, but it seems to be doing a good job of supporting the bone. I stand up, testing out my weight on each foot. It's a vast improvement, and what was once a tooth-gritting pain is now merely an annoying throb.
"Thanks," I say, my eyes squinting to look at him. I still don't trust him, but for now, I feel safe. If he's going to kill me, it won't be this week.
He just gives me a curt nod before he pushes his hair behind his ear and goes back to work on his spear. I take the moment to retie both boots and readjust my cargo pants, which shifted uncomfortably in my sleep.
I stare out at the others, noticing that Veyr is beginning to stir. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail and is matted from sand and sweat. Perspiration trails down his brow, and his mud-ridden arms make him look like he hasn't bathed for weeks.
"Put another log on the fire," Elias snaps. "We'll have to get more wood today, but we need water first."
I swallow and allow myself for the first time to acknowledge the uncomfortable dryness in my throat. Fueled by adrenaline and the curiosity of new surroundings, none of us complained yesterday. But today, especially in the sticky heat that is already setting on the island, water will be a necessity.
"Should I wake the others up?" I ask as I pull a large piece of driftwood from our dwindling collection. I'm speaking more to myself than to Elias; I don't particularly care enough to take orders from him.
"We have a lot to do," he responds, weighing the outcomes. "We don't want any grumpy and uncooperative squadmates, but we do need Ziana to start working on that basket. We can't even collect the water without it, and the boiling process will take about another hour."
I take that as a yes to wake her up, so I drop the wood on the fire, flinching slightly as embers cascade around me, and lumber over to her. I gently shake her shoulders and leap back as she bolts up, arms covering her face. When she realizes it's me she gives me a fierce scowl, but I just give her one right back. I have more pride than that to let her think she can scare me.
"We need the basket," I deadpan, still glaring at her.
Her eyes narrow, and I notice that the flowers in her hair have changed from a stark white to a soft, baby blue. It must be some type of technology I've never heard of, but the idea of color-changing fabric is intriguing.
"I need twigs," she says, wiping her bleary eyes. "You still have that dagger?"
I shake my head, wondering whether Veyr or Nico has it. My guess would be Nico because I'm assuming he had the last shift before Elias.
"Check with Nico," I say, folding my arms awkwardly.
Now that Nico and I are on even worse terms, I have no idea who to talk to. I still don't trust Elias, and Ziana and I don't look like we'd particularly get along. That leaves Veyr, but I'm not even sure if he's interested in talking to me after we taunted each other yesterday.
To my surprise, Ziana takes the knife from under Nico's belt without waking him. I am painfully aware as her hand trails along his chest, turning him over with hands of grace that only artisans possess.
"I'll be back in ten," she announces, but neither Elias nor I turn our heads to look at her.
I stand blankly for a few moments, unsure of what to do. It's guaranteed that everyone is going to be hungry when they arise, but I doubt the spear is ready for me to attempt to kill another one of the reptiles.
As if reading my mind, Elias comes up behind me, his presence sending a shiver down my spine.
"Ready for some fishing?" he asks, his cold voice melting just slightly.
"I guess so," I reply, trying not to twist my face in confusion. I can feel my eyebrows raising though, and I look away from him.
We wade into the water, the waves feeling strange around the brace.
"You sure the sap won't loosen in the water?" I question, doubting him slightly as I feel the tension slip.
"It shouldn't," he answers.
I once again shift my eyebrows, but he doesn't notice. His eyes are glued to the water, and I can tell he's scanning the waves for any sign of movement. Any sign of life doesn't come until I'm knee-deep, and although Elias is scrawny and bony, the water barely hits the underside of his kneecap.
He points the spear towards the water and casually slips the dagger out of his belt, holding it out to me. When I take it, he presses a finger to his lips and moves forward. I'm unsure of what exactly he sees, but with the speed of a viper, he lunges at the seafloor, a wicked grin plastered on his face.
He rips the wood out of the water and reveals a runty looking fish impaled helplessly through its middle. Although small, it's a victory nonetheless.
Elias turns in my direction, shoving the spear and the dying fish towards me.
"Use your shirt as a basket," he orders. "I'm going to try to catch more."
I glare at him. "And what, you expect me to take the fish off then?"
He shoots me a look. "Fine, I can do it myself."
He turns the spear towards him, and I can tell that skewering the fish was probably pure luck. Although intelligent and calculated, it's clear that he's never wielded a large weapon a day in his life. As he moves it closer to his eyes, the limp fish lets out one more jittering movement and clearly startled, Elias drops the stake into the waves.
I roll my eyes and pull the wood out of the water, thankful to see that the fish is still secured.
"Definitely can do it yourself," I quip sarcastically.
"For someone who just got their ankle fixed it'd be expected that you were a little more pleasant," he spurts back.
I shrug my shoulders, my lips folding into a lopsided smile. "Surviving doesn't require me to be pleasant."
"Actually, it does," he points out, a malicious grin growing on his face. "No one's died yet."
"It's also only been a day," I snap back. "We'll have a causality soon enough."
"Let's hope it's not you."
I pause and glare at him, a feeling of unease spreading through my body like wildfire. I lock my glance on him and stare into his eyes. Even now they're impossible to read, the almost black iris making it seem as if his whole eye was configured of a pupil. The only thing keeping me from bolting is the fact that I hold the spear and the knife in my hands. He's defenseless and I could slit his throat before he so much as laid a punch on me.
"Watch yourself," I warn, ripping the fish off the stake before thrusting the spear back into his hands. "They may trust you, but that doesn't mean I ever will."
I don't turn my back on him until I'm out of throwing distance. My left hand clutches onto the hilt of the dagger so hard that my knuckles turn white, and the dead fish dangles by its tail fin. The scaly metallic hue glitters in the light, transforming from a brilliant green to a raging orange.
I approach Ziana to find her humming away, amazed to see that the entire skeleton of a two or three-gallon basket has been formed in a matter of minutes.
"Didn't get bitten this time, did you Sunshine?" Veyr jokes, gesturing to the fish.
I shake my head. "Good morning to you too."
"I'm parched," he complains, the hoarseness in his voice growing noticeable. "How much longer, Ziana?"
"An hour tops," she calls back. "Nico should be coming back with more wood any minute now."
"I'll cook the fish then," I say to no one in particular.
I grab a slender branch that I see Elias had begun to whittle and skewer the fish through the middle, gagging slightly at the blood. I hover it in the fire and watch as the flames envelop it whole.
***
By some miracle, Elias managed to father another four fish, just enough so that everyone could have their own. The meat is slightly undercooked and glistens a stark white with moisture. I don't complain, and neither do the others, and I ravenously choke down the body, fins and all. I spit the bones back into the fire and observe them crumble as they become a charred black.
Ziana's humming only heightens as she begins to finish her promised water-tight basket. Although pretty, it reminds me of home, and I slowly find myself becoming tired of it. I don't need memories of something I'm unlikely to return to, and I grit my teeth in annoyance.
"It's done," she beams, obvious pride seeking through her voice.
"Good," Elias snaps, snatching the basket out of her hands. "I'll be back in an hour."
Veyr lets out a snort. "If you think you can carry three gallons of water all the way back here you're not as smart as we all thought. Nico's going with you."
I shift my head down, not daring to look at him. I've spent the entirety of the day ignoring him and keeping out of his way, and a part of me is glad he'll be out of my hair for another hour.
"So we start on the shelter?" I ask, glancing at Veyr for confirmation.
"I'm going to start on a lid for the water," Ziana pipes up. "And make another one, just in case. I can help with designing the shelter, though. Back home in Five we'd make little houses for the children."
I ignore her and throw my hair up and off of my neck as Veyr voices his appreciation.
"Come on, Elara," he beckons. He holds his hand out, and it's clear he expects me to give the dagger to him.
I brush past him, my shoulder hitting slightly off of his hand, and begin to walk in the direction of the jungle, looking forward to actually exploring the landscape today.
"Ready, Sunshine?" Veyr asks as he appears beside me, his toothy grin gleaming.
"I'm ready," I respond. "Is His Excellency?"
"He is."
"Then let's go."
***
The jungle is vastly different than last night, and I find a small part of me longing for it to transform back to the appearance in my memory.
The fireflies are nowhere to be found and are instead replaced with pests of all sizes. An insect almost the size of my thumb hurtles past my ear, chirping with a distress call. It collides with Veyr's cheek, and I see him yelp with shock.
The insect falls to the ground and flies around violently, the fuzzy legs flailing around.
"Funny thing, isn't it?" Veyr laughs, bending down to inspect it.
The floor is littered with decaying fallen leaves, and lizards and tiny mammals scurry around in the underbrush. Sunlight peaks through any gaps in the leaves, leaving dazzling golden specks as we walk.
"Are we looking for any specific wood?" I ask, halting at the base of a large tree.
"Well, we can't exactly hack a tree down. And the way they're built means we'll have to climb to reach the smaller limbs."
"Are you up for that?" I question. "Scooting up trunks isn't exactly my specialty."
"Don't you worry, Sunshine," Veyr says, flashing a grin. "I've got this."
He puts the blade of the dagger in between his teeth and places his hands around the base of the trunk. He scurries up the trunk with the speed and grace of a squirrel, finding unseen footholds in the bark. In a matter of mere seconds, he's scaled about forty feet, and soon enough, his body is the size of my thumb.
I strain my neck to look up at him and watch as he moves the knife to his hand. He carefully places it at the end of a limb and begins to saw.
"I'll drop them," he yells down to me, teeth gritted in focus. "You might want to move back so they don't hit you."
I take a few steps backward and examine his movements closely. Veyr puts all his force behind his sawing, making him very off-balanced. I don't have time to worry about him falling, though, because then a fifteen-foot limb comes crashing down nearly a pace away from my head, sending large leaves flying up in its wake.
"Careful," I warn, inspecting the fresh wood.
The limb is about the width of my forearm and a desaturated brown in color. The ashy bark seems strong and sturdy, and I spot no evidence of decay.
Another arm comes tumbling down, this time colliding with the trunk of the tree as it falls. It lands on the previous log with a sickening noise, and I perk my head up, scanning the jungle. If any predators were nearby, we've just alerted them.
***
When he's chopped down about twenty limbs, Veyr begins his descent. He scoots down the tree in such a way that I suspect his entire inner leg will be scraped up. When he's about fifteen feet from the ground, he loses his grip on the trunk and tumbles backward, sustaining himself by his ankles.
His hair comes undone and dangles over his flushed face, masking the redness as the blood rushes to his head.
"A little help, Sunshine?" Veyr asks, his voice muffled.
I hurry towards him, standing on the tips of my toes in an attempt to reach him, but I'm still about another body's length away.
"I'll catch you," I inform him, stretching out my arms. I'm not stupid, I know I won't be able to catch his weight, but I can lessen the fall.
"No offense Elara, but you're not exactly strong enough for that," he argues, his feet slipping.
"Just let go," I order.
Before the words have even escaped my mouth he comes tumbling down, but I misjudged his position and he comes down hard on the top of my head, ramming his back into my skull. I let out a groan as I crumple to the ground, Veyr's built body crushing me.
He stifles a laugh and rolls off of me, my lungs gasping for the wind that he knocked out of me.
"Sorry," he chuckles, slipping the knife in his belt. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," I wheeze, shifting my arms above my head, my vision blurry. "Let's get a move on."
"You up for carrying seven of these things?" he asks, bending over to pick up his eight.
"I worked in a field my whole life," I respond, crouching down. The bark is cool and slightly moist in my hand, and I grip my fingers around it welcomingly. "I can manage."
"After you," he says, nodding his head back in the direction of the beach.
Although we can't yet spot the sand, our tracks are easy to follow. The both of us had moved rather carelessly on our way here, and the idents of footsteps and crushed leaves sit limply on the ground. But our path halts suddenly after dragging our sticks for just ten minutes. It looks as if someone went through and scattered leaves over our trail, wreaking havoc as they did so. Branches lay crushed and snapped apart, and the insects are nowhere to be found. I bend down to inspect the disturbance and am taken aback by what I see.
Fresh and crimson blood pools neatly on the ground, the corners of it congealing and the center rippling as drops fall from above.
"Veyr," I warn as I begin to look up.
A large wildcat is perched on a limb from the trees, a gaping wound present on its silver neck. Its eyes seem to have had the life drained out of them, leaving only dark soulless pits, and its grey fur is matted and appears to be decaying right in front of us. It opens its maw when it spots us and lets out a sorrowful yowl.
"Get back," Veyr yelps, pushing past me and waving the dagger dangerously around.
"It's not him we have to worry about," I mutter, gesturing to the predator's neck. "It's whatever thing did that we should be scared of."