The morning sunlight streamed through the gaps in the makeshift shelter, gently waking Nate from his slumber. For the first time in what felt like forever, he had slept deeply and peacefully. His body felt lighter, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The events of the previous night with Claire lingered in his mind, but he brushed them aside, knowing he needed to focus on the group's survival.
Stretching his arms above his head, Nate stepped outside, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on his skin. The camp was already alive with activity. Groups of people moved purposefully, dividing tasks among themselves. Some were heading into the forest with makeshift bags, likely searching for food or water, while others were working on the camp's defenses.
Nate made his way toward Ryder, who stood a short distance away, his arms folded as he watched a group of people working intently. Nate greeted him, "Good morning."
Ryder raised a hand without looking at him, signaling for silence. Nate frowned but followed Ryder's gaze to see what had captured his attention.
A small group of people was constructing something that looked like a rudimentary trap. They had used ropes and sharp metal fragments salvaged from the wreckage of the plane, tying them to sturdy sticks planted firmly in the ground. Another person was carving a large plank of wood into pointed stakes using a jagged piece of the plane's paneling. The trap was designed so that when triggered, the stakes would swing downward from the trees, potentially injuring or scaring off anything that might approach the camp.
"They're making an early warning system," Ryder finally explained, his voice low. "The ropes are tied to some cans we found near the wreckage. If anything big steps on it, we'll hear the noise."
Nate nodded, impressed by the ingenuity. "Smart," he said. "Looks like people are finally taking this seriously."
Ryder didn't respond, his focus still on the group. Nate didn't linger, knowing Ryder's mind was elsewhere.
As Nate wandered toward a cluster of people sorting through gathered fruits, his stomach growled. He crouched down and picked up one of the strange orange fruits they had found on the island. It was oval-shaped with a smooth surface, slightly larger than a mango. He turned it over in his hand, inspecting it for any signs of danger. Bringing it closer, he sniffed cautiously, catching a faint, sweet aroma.
A playful voice interrupted him. "You know, you're not going to die if you eat it."
Nate turned to see Madison standing behind him, a mischievous smile on her face. Without hesitation, she picked up one of the fruits and bit into it directly, juice dripping from her chin.
"People have been eating these for days now," she said between bites. "If they were poisonous, I think we'd know by now."
Nate smirked but didn't argue, finally taking a tentative bite of the fruit. The sweetness burst on his tongue, and he realized it was the first truly pleasant thing he'd tasted in a week.
Nate walked back to his tent, feeling the exhaustion of the morning's activities. The group had managed to make him a shelter that stood out from the rest. It was sturdy, with thick cloth walls reinforced by branches and vines. Inside, a bed had been fashioned from the foam seat cushions salvaged from the plane. The cushions were stacked and covered with a long piece of cloth, forming a makeshift mattress that was surprisingly comfortable.
Sitting down on the bed, Nate sighed deeply. His reflection in the small, cracked mirror on the ground caught his attention. His hair had grown too long, curling into his face and obstructing his vision. It was time to do something about it. Picking up a pair of scissors from a pile of supplies, he began carefully snipping away the unruly strands.
As he worked, the tent flap rustled, and Madison stepped inside without warning. She froze mid-step, her eyes wide as they took in the setup.
"You have a bed?" she asked, incredulous.
Nate chuckled softly but didn't look up. "Jealous?"
Madison rolled her eyes but didn't linger on the subject. Instead, she pulled a rolled-up piece of paper from her bag and unfurled it on the floor. Nate paused, intrigued by the detailed hand-drawn map that spread before him. The precision of the lines, the landmarks, and the routes were striking.
"You drew this?" he asked, clearly impressed.
Madison shook her head. "Not me. There's a kid here—his father didn't want him to help with anything, but Ryder wasn't having it. Said if he could do something useful, we needed to let him."
Nate raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
"So," Madison went on, "Bella used her powers on him—lifted him up high enough so he could get a bird's-eye view of the area. He only looked once before coming down and drawing this."
Nate stared at the map, nodding in approval. "Smart kid. If we're going to survive here, we need to start understanding this island better."
Madison smiled faintly, folding the map back up. "Speaking of survival, Claire sent me to tell you that she wants you and Amara to go hunting. With this map, it shouldn't be too hard to find something edible and avoid any unwanted surprises."
Nate frowned, his tone laced with suspicion. "Why me and Amara? What's Claire planning?"
Madison shrugged, clearly out of answers. "I don't know. She just said it had to be you two."
She crossed the room, removing her shoes and revealing her small, delicate feet. Without hesitation, she climbed onto the bed beside Nate and plucked the scissors from his hand.
"What are you doing?" Nate asked, startled.
"Helping you," Madison replied matter-of-factly. "You're butchering it."
She knelt beside him, her hands steady as she began trimming his hair with careful precision.