the woods were beginning to chafe at nat. after the crash, three lives had been lost, and the yellowjackets were only just scraping by. it was only fair that the survivors turned to such coping mechanisms.

nat, for one, craved the feel of the rifle in her hands, how her prey — if she and travis were lucky enough, that was — shook suddenly and then collapsed to the forest floor. her hand running gently through its furs or feathers. the last time she’d held a gun it’d not gone so well. (her father’s corpse, her mother sobbing—)

so taissa and van made out in the bush behind the cabin, lottie was converted by laura lee, misty drugged ben into being her ‘boyfriend’ and shauna hid her deepest darkest secret from jackie.

and so natalie invited you one slow afternoon after finishing up your chores to sneak off to the plane’s abandoned hull. even under the golden dappled light of the trees, nothing could mask the stench of catastrophe reeking from the metal. forgotten items lay all over inside; memorabilia of another time.

maybe there was something immoral about hooking up in the carcass of the plane that had stranded you all here.

her bleached blonde hair hung freshly washed over her shoulders, leaning back against one of the seats not strewn with remnants of the crash. there was a cigarette between her lips; stashed away contraband.

even now, it was marked by your lip balm, and she liked the taste mixed with the nicotine. “fuck this stupid fucking forest,” nat was muttering, dark blue eyes glinting with some hidden hurt as she glanced up at you.

a pause, and faint birdsong as she tugged at her red bra strap after taking a drag. “i just . . . shit, i’m sorry. it’s been a while without alcohol, and this cigarette’s barely tiding me over. i need a hot girl on my face and then i’ll be okay.”

she did laugh, now, thinking of the times you two had hooked up before the crash (who was counting, if you were both teammates, both girls? certainly none of the guys from your school. it’s the nineties after all).