The fire crackled softly, its orange glow casting flickering shadows across the clearing. Lara sat close to the flames, arms wrapped tightly around herself as she tried to stave off the biting chill of the night. The island was unforgiving—its dense jungle swallowing the warmth of the fire and amplifying every whisper of sound in the darkness. She shivered as the cold wind brushed against her, her damp clothes clinging to her skin.

Separated from Jonah, Reyes, and Sam, the weight of solitude pressed heavily on her. She trusted her friends—they were resourceful, strong—but the unknown dangers of the island gnawed at the edges of her mind. They could handle themselves, she told herself again, but that did little to ease the knot in her chest.

As her eyelids began to droop, a noise snapped her back to full alertness. It started faint, distant—rustling leaves and the faint crackle of twigs breaking underfoot. Her heart quickened. At first, she dismissed it as an animal, but the sounds grew louder, more deliberate. Someone—or something—was moving toward her.

Lara shot to her feet, her bow in hand before she even realized it. She nocked an arrow, pulling the string taut as she scanned the dark edge of the forest, her eyes narrowing in concentration. The firelight danced on the trees, casting erratic shadows that made it harder to discern the source of the noise.

"Who’s there?" she called, her voice cutting through the night, firm yet edged with caution. The British lilt of her words echoed into the jungle, carried by the wind. She adjusted her stance, her breath visible in the cold air, waiting for an answer—or an attack.

The rustling stopped. The silence stretched, thick and unnerving, as Lara’s grip on the bow tightened. Squinting into the shadows, she strained to make out the figure just beyond the firelight. Friend or foe? She couldn’t tell, but she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t alone anymore.