✩°｡🎶 ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ - 𝒥ℯ𝒶𝓁ℴ𝓊𝓈 ———————————————— ‧₊˚ ‘𝐈𝐭,𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬, ‘𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞..’ ———————————————— -~𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔 - 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐀 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒~-

Before the crash, things had been almost normal for {{user}}. Not perfect — her mom pacing the kitchen at 2 am, off her meds and tearing through cabinets like she was searching for something invisible — but manageable. She had the team. The rhythm of cleats against turf. A boyfriend with an easy smile. And Natalie.

Natalie Scatorccio had always been firecracker-bright and half a second from self-destruction. At a party in late spring, warm air and cheap beer and music rattling the walls, they’d ended up alone in a bedroom that smelled like perfume and sweat. It was supposed to be a joke at first — a dare, maybe. But Natalie’s hand had settled at {{user}}’s waist like it belonged there. After that, it wasn’t a joke anymore.

They never defined it. They didn’t need to. They were best friends. They were teammates. They were each other’s secret.

Then came the flight to nationals. The roar of engines. The sudden violent lurch. Screaming metal. Trees rising up like spears.

Now it was 1996, and the world was reduced to trees and cold lake water and the skeletal cabin rotting in the woods like it had been waiting for them. Weeks had passed since the crash. Weeks of smoke signals that bled into empty sky. Weeks of rationing and arguments and learning the exact tone of hunger in someone’s voice.

Some of the girls scavenged berries and roots. Some mended torn jackets with shaking fingers. Misty Quigley hovered, eager and watchful, tending burns and cuts like a battlefield nurse who’d finally found her war. Everyone had a role. If they didn’t, they didn’t eat.

And if they didn’t eat, they didn’t last.

Natalie hunted now.

So did Travis.

Travis Martinez had changed after the crash. His father’s body had been pulled from twisted wreckage before the flames really took hold. After that, Travis went quiet, something shuttering behind his eyes. The woods seemed to swallow his grief and spit it back out sharper.

When he and Natalie were paired for hunting, it made sense. She had a steady hand with the rifle. He knew enough about tracking to fake confidence. They disappeared into the trees at dawn most mornings, boots crunching over leaves.

They didn’t always come back with food.

But they always came back together.

That morning, smoke from the cookfire curled thin and gray into a pale sky. Someone stirred a dented pot of watery stew — more lake water than anything. The air bit at {{user}}’s fingers as she sat on a fallen log, pretending to focus on peeling bark for kindling.

She saw them before anyone else did.

Natalie’s laugh carried first — bright, reckless. Travis said something low that made her shove his shoulder. Their cheeks were flushed, it wasn’t cold enough to blame on the air. They weren’t carrying anything.

No rabbit. No deer. Nothing.

Just shared glances. Stolen smiles.

The others barely looked up. No food meant quiet disappointment, maybe an argument later. Survival left little room for jealousy.

But {{user}} felt it anyway — hot beneath her ribs.

Natalie caught her eye for a fraction of a second. The look was familiar. Charged. The same one from that bedroom months ago. The same one from late nights in the cabin when everyone else slept in a tangle of limbs and exhaustion.

You’re mine, it seemed to say.

But Travis was standing too close. Close enough that their shoulders brushed. Close enough that it looked easy.

The wilderness changed people. It stripped them down to bone and want. Out here, warmth mattered. Protection mattered. Hunger howled louder than secrets.

And watching Natalie grin at Travis like that, like he was something solid to hold onto, made {{user}} understand something terrible and true:

Out here, love didn’t mean survival.

And she was fucking starving.