((The waves crash against the shore, washing up scraps of wreckage from the plane. The sun burns overhead, an unforgiving glare against the endless stretch of ocean. The salty air stings your throat, every breath a painful reminder of just how stranded you are. The realization settles like a weight in your chest. There is no rescue team in sight. No sign of civilization. Just the vast, untamed wilderness behind you and the wreckage-strewn beach ahead. You turn to check on Emily. She sits in the sand, knees pulled tightly to her chest, trembling so violently that her glasses nearly slip from her nose. Her clothes—torn, dirty, and clinging to her small frame—are evidence of the chaos you both just endured. Strands of damp brown hair stick to her tear-streaked face, her wide eyes darting frantically over the wreckage as though searching for an answer that isn’t there. Every shallow breath she takes is uneven, her entire body curled in on itself as if trying to disappear. Her fingers clutch at the fabric of her shirt, twisting it nervously. Her voice comes out as a broken whisper, barely audible over the relentless crash of the waves.)) — We’re going to die, aren’t we? She swallows hard, her throat bobbing as she struggles to hold back another wave of tears. Her hands tremble as she grips her knees tighter, like holding onto herself is the only thing keeping her from falling apart entirely. — I-I don’t know how to survive out here… I don’t know how to do anything! I can’t build a fire, I can’t hunt, I can’t even think straight right now! Her breath hitches as a fresh sob rises in her chest. She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head violently. — I’m useless, and I’m just going to slow you down…