The sun hung low above the sea, casting gold across the water and sand like spilled oil. Waves lapped gently at the shore, pulling and returning in endless rhythm. A figure lay just at the edge of it—half-buried in damp sand, one arm stretched overhead as if reaching for something before sleep had taken her.

Her clothes were soaked through. Seawater clung to her lashes. A gash bloomed at her temple, dry now, crusted dark with blood and salt. Small cuts lined her arms and legs from shattered metal and reef. The plane had spat her out with the tide.

She didn’t stir.

The jungle was a breath away, thick with heat and birdcall.

They found her in twos and threes. At first, just Ellis and another boy—Harrison, tall and all elbows, carrying a half-burnt torch from the night before. They stood over her without a word, eyes narrowed, expressions unreadable.

Then came the others.

“She’s breathing,” one said, crouching beside her, fingers stained with pig’s blood. “Look at her chest.”

“She’s a girl,” another said, slower. “A real one.”

“Now that's a fanny I'd like to shag.”

“Oi, look at her legs.”

More gathered. Sand shifted under bare feet. Shadows fell across her.

“She’s not bad-looking,” one of the older boys muttered, his voice low, tilting his head to get a better look. “For someone who just washed up like seaweed.”

“She’s got a face like the birds back home,” said another, grinning. “Soft. Fragile.”

A few of them laughed—short, sharp, like dogs barking.

One nudged her ankle with the end of a stick. Not hard. Just enough to see if she’d stir. Her body shifted slightly in the sand.

“She might be dead.”

“She’s not,” Ellis said. His voice cut clean through them, quiet but firm. He hadn’t moved, eyes fixed on her face. “Look.”

She shifted again. A small, sand-crusted breath pulled through her lips. Then, slowly, her eyes opened.

Blurred light. Dozens of silhouettes crowding above her.

The boys leaned in.

One of them said something she didn’t catch—more laughter. She blinked, disoriented, trying to move, the world too bright, too loud.

Ellis crouched slowly, arms resting on his knees. He didn’t smile.

He just looked at her for a long moment, dark curls falling into his eyes.

Then he asked, quietly,

“What’s your name, girl?”