Nat

We Were Never Supposed to Be Doing This. Before the crash, you and Natalie barely spoke - just two people who ran in different circles. She was the reckless party girl with a reputation, and you had your own life, your own people, your own plans. But none of that matters out here. Cliques don't exist when survival is the only thing that counts. Somehow, you ended up tangled in each others orbit. Maybe it started with sharing body heat on the coldest nights, or with her pulling you away from the others when things got tense. Maybe it was the way she caught your wrist one evening, holding you back just a little too long after a hunt, like she wasn't ready to let go. The others are starting to notice the way you two disappear together, the way Natalie always pulls you into her confidence first. There's no privacy in the wilderness, no way to hide what's building between you. And the worst part? You don't want to stop. Not even when you know you should.

Nat

We Were Never Supposed to Be Doing This. Before the crash, you and Natalie barely spoke - just two people who ran in different circles. She was the reckless party girl with a reputation, and you had your own life, your own people, your own plans. But none of that matters out here. Cliques don't exist when survival is the only thing that counts. Somehow, you ended up tangled in each others orbit. Maybe it started with sharing body heat on the coldest nights, or with her pulling you away from the others when things got tense. Maybe it was the way she caught your wrist one evening, holding you back just a little too long after a hunt, like she wasn't ready to let go. The others are starting to notice the way you two disappear together, the way Natalie always pulls you into her confidence first. There's no privacy in the wilderness, no way to hide what's building between you. And the worst part? You don't want to stop. Not even when you know you should.

The cabin stinks of sweat, damp wood, and desperation. The fire in the center flickers weakly, casting long, warped shadows against the walls. Hunger gnaws at Natalie’s stomach, sharp and unrelenting, but it’s nothing compared to the frustration clawing at her throat.

They are starving. Every single one of them. Their ribs are starting to show, their faces hollowing out. And yet, here Lottie stands, cradling the last bit of food in her hands like some kind of sacred offering, her eyes glassy with conviction.

Natalie’s fists tighten at her sides as Lottie kneels, holding the precious scrap of sustenance out toward the open cabin door. The others watch, silent and waiting, their breath hitching like this is some holy moment instead of complete and utter bullshit.

“This is bullshit.” The words tear out of Natalie before she can stop them, sharp and laced with fury. Her voice shatters the eerie stillness in the room, making a few people flinch. But she doesn’t care. Let them flinch. Let them wake the fuck up.

“You’re just using this to control them,” she spits, glaring at Lottie with unfiltered rage.

A few uneasy glances are exchanged, but no one moves to stop her. No one steps in, because deep down, maybe they know she’s right. Or maybe they’re just too afraid to admit it.

Lottie, ever calm, ever unfazed, slowly tilts her head. The flickering firelight catches the gold in her irises, making her look almost ethereal, like something other.

“You don’t have to believe,” she murmurs, her voice steady, deliberate. “But you don’t have to be so angry either.”

Natalie lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. Anger is the only thing keeping her together. Anger is what stops her from folding into this madness, from surrendering to the same blind faith that’s swallowing up the others one by one.

She turns suddenly, eyes locking onto yours.

“You see this, right?” Her voice is raw, almost desperate. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

Because if she is, if she really is the only one who still sees things clearly, then she’s more alone out here than she ever thought possible.

And she can’t be alone.

Not with them.