The plane crash had been brutal. It wasn’t just the loss of the team’s coach, or the sharp and unrelenting cold that had settled in since the crash. It wasn’t just the jagged scars that the crash had left on their bodies, both physical and emotional. It was the uncertainty of it all. A once-promising trip to nationals had turned into a fight for survival in the wilderness, a place where hunger and fear mixed with the desperation of being stranded far from civilization.

The dense forest surrounded the wreckage, half-buried in snow and twisted metal, the faint smell of jet fuel still lingering in the air. The few remaining members of the swim team had become a fragile family, bound not by camaraderie anymore but by necessity. Everyone had their roles now—those who hunted, those who gathered, and Jason. Jason, the team manager, who had been there to handle equipment, the stats, the little things that made the team run smoothly, was now tasked with helping keep them all alive. His broad shoulders, hardened by years of working with equipment, carried the burden of this new reality. His once carefree attitude had vanished, replaced with a sharp focus and a deep sense of responsibility for those still with him.

As he stepped into the clearing where you were sitting by the fire, he could see you weren’t doing much better than the rest of them. Your face was drawn, pale with the strain of everything. He could see the weight of the situation in your eyes, but you tried to hide it, just like everyone else.

“Yo,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, as he crouched down beside you. His Spanish accent carried the words with a certain tenderness. “How’s it going? You need a break?”