As darkness fell, we decided to set up camp near the river. Anna nodded and said, "Alright, let's gather sticks to make a camp. We have to spend the night here." We split up to search for firewood. After a few minutes, we had collected enough and returned to set up camp. As we placed the sticks, fish, and spears down, a thought struck me.
"How are we going to light a fire?" I asked.
Anna replied confidently, "Simple. We'll use the hand drill method. Find a straight, sturdy stick from the pile and a flat piece of wood. Hold the stick vertically and rub it between your palms quickly while applying downward pressure."
I stared at her, expressionless. "Really?"
"Yes, really," she confirmed.
"And where do we find flat wood now?" I asked.
"It doesn't have to be perfect," she said. "Something close will do."
"Alright, you're the boss," I said, heading off to find a suitable piece of wood. While searching, I stumbled upon a pile of chopped wood—cleanly cut, likely by an axe. Cautiously, I approached it, realizing that we were not alone. The thought crossed my mind that it might belong to the tribe we had encountered earlier. I hesitated, not wanting to provoke a confrontation, but decided that taking one log wouldn't be noticed. I carefully grabbed a piece and brushed away any signs that I'd been there. The last thing we needed was someone tracking us to camp and ambushing us at night.
When I returned, Anna asked, "Did you find it?"
"Yeah, it's perfect," I said, showing her the piece.
She nodded and asked, "Where did you get it?"
I explained about the woodpile as I sat down to attempt lighting the fire under her guidance. After twenty minutes of effort, my palms were scraped raw. Anna simply watched.
"This isn't as easy as you made it sound," I said, frustrated.
"I never said it would be easy," she replied. "Try applying more downward force and speed."
"What do you think I've been doing this whole time?" I muttered. I kept trying for what felt like an hour. It was now pitch black, and my hands were numb.
"Do you want to take over?" I asked Anna.
"Nope," she said. "If you can't do it, I'm not delusional enough to think I can."
All I could do was sigh. "This isn't working. The island doesn't have insects, so we could just sleep in the dark."
Anna agreed. "We're lucky there aren't any insects, but remember the boar we saw earlier? There could be other animals. If you want to risk becoming their dinner, go ahead and quit."
He hadn't seen any animals or the boar, but I didn't want to push further and risk her thinking I distrusted her. The last thing we needed in a survival situation was an argument.
"Okay, let's keep at it," I said. Just as I was about to try again, a drop of water hit my face. I looked up as the rain began to fall harder.
Sarcastically, I asked, "Should I keep rubbing?"
Anna chuckled. "Sure, be my guest. Try to light a fire in the rain until morning."
I laughed, stood up, and picked up the spears. "Let's find a tree to shelter under."
We ran for cover and found a decent tree. Though it wasn't fully waterproof, it provided some relief. We sat in silence for a few minutes before I said, "I think our main campfire must be out by now."
Anna sighed. "And we left the fish back at camp."
"It doesn't matter. We might not have eaten tonight, but we learned how to catch fish," I said.
"Sure, that's something," she replied. "The gift of knowledge."
"I have some questions, if you don't mind," I said.
"Go ahead," Anna replied.
"You said you're a nature researcher, right? But you seem to struggle a bit. And you mentioned your father was an adventurer. What did he actually do? I know it's personal, but I'm curious."
Anna nodded. "I don't mind. Yes, I am a nature researcher, but I never claimed to be a survival expert. My job involves studying things, not surviving in the wild. My father was a researcher by trade, but he loved the great outdoors. He was passionate about it. If you're looking for a survival expert, that's him, not me. Anyway, I've answered your questions. I have some for you as well. You look like you're in your mid or late-20s. So, what else can you remember?"
I sighed. "I don't remember my age. There's one thing that sticks in my mind—a name. I haven't talked about it or thought about it much. It feels tied to something bad, maybe even terrible. The name doesn't bring any fond memories; it's the reason for my nightmares. I hear someone call me by that name, and it's like nails on a chalkboard."
"What's the name?" Anna asked gently. "If you can say it, of course. I'm not forcing you."
I hesitated. "I can say it, but please, don't use it. The name is Dane."
Anna said, "Okay, so that name is connected to something terrible, but what? Can you remember anything else about it—like what it's about or how it may be related to you specifically?"
I replied, "Well, I really wish I knew. I truly do. The point is, I know nothing else about it, but my mind reacts badly to it, like it's some forgotten trauma. During my dreams, that name comes to me so intensely, as if I'm being cornered by people calling me that. That's all I can say about it. It's as vague to me as it probably sounds to you."
Anna nodded slowly and said, "Well, hopefully, we can figure it out over time and help you overcome it. Just try your best to stay strong."
"Thanks," I said, feeling a small sense of relief. "Thanks for listening. I wouldn't blame you if you doubted me or didn't believe this tall tale."
"It wouldn't matter," Anna replied. "I choose to believe you. Distrusting you would only make me stressed for no reason, and so far, you've done right by me. I think many others wouldn't have been as kind to me as you've been. You don't strike me as the type to hide or lie for no reason. And seeing how troubled you are makes me believe you're telling the truth."
"Thank you," I whispered.
A few moments passed in silence as I stared into the rain. The night was still, save for the rhythmic drumming of rain on the leaves above us. It was pouring hard, and we huddled under a tree for cover. The chill of the rain and the dark sky pressed down on us like a heavy weight.