The boy woke up in a stupor. He felt incredibly sick and his head felt as though it was made of lead. He had to force himself to sit up. When he finally managed to get up, his ribs flared up and were in incredible pain. My…ribs aren’t getting any better it seems. He decided to push past this pain and sickness and turned to Wrighty.

  Wrighty was still snoring and murmuring in his sleep. So instead of waking him up the boy got up and took a walk around the camp.

  He saw Gravel talking to some lady, both of them seemed stern and cautious.

  Something’s wrong, I wonder what happened. The boy stepped back and watched as the two continued to talk. Then suddenly Gravel walked towards a makeshift chest. He dug through it until he pulled out a conch shell. The shell was about the size of a trumpet. Gravel breathed in before blowing into the shell.

  The noise it made was like an airhorn so loud that it rang through the whole camp, maybe even the whole island. Everyone who was sleeping immediately got up, those who were already awake covered their ears. Wrighty shot up and looked around before spotting the boy and walking over to him.

  “Hey Doc, how long have you been up?”

  The boy didn’t answer and instead turned his attention to Gravel as he called everyone together.

  “Everyone of this camp, I call this meeting to ask for volunteers for a mighty dangerous mission. For all of y’all who were here during the first few days you may remember we sent an expedition group to gather us supplies. Well folks, I am sad to say we have not heard back from them in quite the while. So, for those willing, it would be quite helpful for the camp if some nice ladies or gentleman volunteer to go find supplies and to hopefully find our first group.”

  Everyone began murmuring amongst themselves. Some were in fear. Others were defiant. The boy listened to some comments he heard.

  “What happened to the first group? Are they dead?”

  “He is crazy if he thinks I’m gonna go out there.”

  “How are we gonna get our supplies now?”

  “We are as good as dead.”

  The boy continued to listen to the confused and outraged words of the crowd before someone spoke up.

  “I volunteer to go.”

  The boy, Wrighty, and the entire crowd turned to see who dared to volunteer.

  It was Five with his hand outstretched. Looking at him now the boy noticed some of Five’s features. He was around the same height as himself, fairly average. He had a strong build but the boy also noted that he wasn’t quite to the level Wrighty was when it came to pure definition and frame. Five wore a zip up jacket that didn’t have a hood but it was chin high with a massive neck area and he had it zipped so high it covered his mouth. Five also had curly brown hair with dark blue eyes. His skin was the color of bronze.

  Five kept his hand in the air before saying his statement once more,

  “I will go. If we need supplies I will get them”

  The crowd went silent, seemingly shocked someone dared to volunteer. The boy was just as shocked. Then someone else shot their hand up.

  “I will accompany him, he will need someone strong to go with him.” Sheath spoke as he raised his hand as well. Sheath was a tall guy with a sword on his back. He had slicked back black hair and was wearing a vest and pants. He had a cape pinned on his shoulder. In a way, he looked like a Spartan.

  The girl with a fur coat and the solemn, emotionless looking boy both volunteered right after him.

  Five smiled at them and Sheath before speaking.

  “I am glad others volunteered to join me, I was also hoping that Wri-”

  “I will go too.”

  Everyone turned their heads. Five looked around before spotting who spoke. It was Shiela. The crowd went silent. Shiela’s words hung in the air and for a heartbeat, no one reacted.

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  Then someone laughed.

  It was short, sharp, and ugly. Another followed it. Then another. The sound spread unevenly through the camp, some people snorting, others shaking their heads, a few muttering under their breath.

  “She’s jokin’, right?”

  “A cripple on an expedition?”

  “Might as well feed her to the forest ourselves.”

  Wrighty stiffened beside the boy. His jaw tightened, and for a moment the boy thought he might actually say something loud or reckless, but he didn’t. He glanced at Shiela instead.

  She hadn’t flinched.

  Her hands rested calmly in her lap. Her posture was straight, her chin lifted just enough that she wasn’t pleading, and wasn't shrinking. If anything, she looked tired. Five hadn’t moved either.

  He was still standing where he’d volunteered, hands relaxed at his sides, eyes forward. The laughter didn’t seem to touch him. If anything, it seemed to annoy him not emotionally, but practically, like static interrupting a thought.

  Gravel raised a hand. “Alright. That’s enough.”

  The laughter died down, though not completely. A few people still snickered until Gravel’s gaze found them, sharp as flint.

  He looked at Shiela. “This ain’t a charity run,” he said plainly. “You know that.”

  “I do,” Shiela replied.

  “You won’t slow anyone down too much?”

  “No.”

  “You won’t scream if things go bad and risk attracting creatures?”

  “I won’t.”

  Gravel studied her for a long moment. “And if you can’t keep up?”

  Shiela met his eyes. “Then leave me.”

  A murmur rippled through the crowd. Wrighty sucked in a breath.

  Before Gravel could answer, Five stepped forward.

  “She won’t be left behind,” he said.

  It wasn’t loud. He didn’t raise his voice but it cut clean through the clearing.

  Gravel turned toward him. “This ain’t your call alone.”

  “No,” Five agreed, “but it is my responsibility.”

  Five continued, his tone still calm, still respectful. “She has an ability. Limited, but useful. More importantly, she has awareness. She listens. She plans. She doesn’t panic.”

  He glanced briefly at the crowd. “Those traits matter more than speed.”

  The boy watched him closely.

  Five wasn’t arguing emotionally. He wasn’t appealing to pity. He was reframing the entire situation into efficiency. Value. Cost versus return.

  Gravel exhaled slowly through his nose. “And you’re willing to take that risk?”

  “Yes.”

  Gravel turned his gaze to Shiela again. “You understand what happens if this goes wrong?”

  Shiela nodded once. “I do.”

  Another pause.

  Then Gravel nodded back. “Alright.”

  The clearing stirred.

  “She goes.”

  The laughter didn’t return this time.

  Gravel shifted his weight and looked around. “Anyone else?”

  No one volunteered.

  The boy felt it, something subtle but sharp. The way eyes drifted toward him. Toward Wrighty. Measuring. Calculating.

  Before anyone could ask, Five turned.

  “I’d like them with us.”

  Every head snapped toward him.

  Gravel raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

  Five nodded. “They seem like they’d be useful. Wrighty is very strong and I can tell he’s a restless one who won’t stop until we are successful,”

  Wrighty grinned. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day.”

  “And that boy, something about him tells me he always is studying something. That could be handy,” Five shook his head than gave a small smile, “plus we had a conversation we wanted to finish.”

  The boy met Five’s gaze. Five’s eyes were steady. Curiously assessing.

  “You,” Five said, looking directly at him now, “have a good eye.”

  The boy said nothing.

  “That’s useful,” Five continued. “Out there, it could be the difference between finding supplies… or finding bones.”

  Gravel considered them both, then sighed. “Fine. But if either of you slow the group down—”

  “We won’t,” Wrighty said immediately.

  The boy didn’t answer. He simply nodded once.

  Gravel clapped his hands together. “Then that’s that. Y’all move in an hour. Light packs. No fires.”

  People began to disperse, some relieved they weren’t going, others quietly resentful. A few watched the selected group with something close to relief. As the clearing loosened, Five stepped closer to the boy.

  “You didn’t object,” Five noted.

  “I saw no benefit in doing so,” the boy replied.

  Five smiled slightly. “Good.”

  Shiela wheeled herself beside them. “Thank you,” she said, softly.

  The boy studied her for a moment, then nodded. “You are… useful.”

  She blinked, then laughed quietly. “I’ll take that.”

  Wrighty leaned in toward the boy. “Doc,” he whispered, “you’re really bad at comfort.”

  “I know,” the boy replied.