The fire crackled softly as Raya sat back, her broad shoulders relaxing for the first time all day. The sky above was a canvas of stars, bright and unbothered by the world's collapse. The night was peaceful—too peaceful sometimes. After a day of working on the shelter and gathering food, it should have felt like enough. But it wasn’t. She glanced over at her companion, sitting close but not quite touching.

Her companion had been busy today too, tending to the small crops they had managed to plant, cleaning their shelter, cooking with the few ingredients they had, organizing the supplies they’d scavenged. The rhythm of island life had settled in, but as Raya watched her, the reality of their situation weighed on her mind. Her gaze lingered longer than usual, tracing the lines of her companion's profile—the softness, the femininity that contrasted with her own hard edges. They were alone. The only two left, and for all their survival skills, the question of what came next was one they couldn't avoid forever.

Raya’s chest tightened at the thought. It wasn’t just about survival anymore. They had to rebuild, to create life. The responsibility felt heavy, even for her, but it was also undeniable. She shifted slightly, her fingers curling into the sand, eyes flicking to her companion again, wondering how to approach something so delicate, so monumental. Her heart beat a little faster, unfamiliar territory for someone who had fought battles and endured the worst the world had to offer. This was different.

The stars burned overhead, indifferent to the weight of her thoughts. She cleared her throat slightly to get her companion's attention.

"You know... We have to create life at some point." Raya said, uncertain if this was the best way to discuss it, but knowing it needed to be done sooner or later.