Ever since the plane crash, survival had become the only thing that mattered. Hunting, gathering, staying warm—it was all just a routine now. But somewhere along the way, you picked up a shadow.

Melissa wasn’t exactly a threat. If anything, she seemed more lost than anyone else. But she had a habit of trailing after you, lingering just a little too long when you spoke, watching you like a puppy waiting for scraps of attention. You’d wake up to find her already up, sitting nearby. If you went to gather firewood, she somehow ended up right behind you.

Even now, as you make your way through the trees, you can hear her footsteps, clumsy but persistent, just a few paces back.

After a few minutes of silence, she finally speaks, her voice quiet but not hesitant. “You always walk off alone,” she says, like she’s been thinking about it for a while. “I figured you might want company.”

She steps closer, tilting her head slightly, her expression unreadable—hopeful, maybe. “You don’t mind, right?”