The morning sun rose slowly, casting soft golden light over the ocean. Jaxon Vale stood on the beach, eyes on the water. It was Day 3.
His body felt stronger than before. His hut was steady. His tools worked. He had survived two full days alone. But the silence still weighed on him.
He walked the shoreline again. It had become a habit. Searching for supplies. Checking the sea.
Today, something was different.
Lying near the waves was a figure. Small. Still.
He ran forward.
It was a girl.
She was face down in the sand. Long black hair soaked from the sea, clinging to her back. Her clothes were torn but decent. Her skin pale and cold.
Jaxon turned her over carefully. She wasn't breathing.
His heart beat faster, but his hands stayed calm.
He placed his palms on her chest and began pressing.
"One… two… three…"
Then he breathed into her mouth. Once. Twice.
He pressed again.
Her chest jumped.
Then she coughed. Hard.
Water spilled from her lips.
She gasped, eyes snapping open.
She sat up fast, coughing, her hands grabbing the sand.
Where… where am I?! I was on the boat… I was reading that mystery book… then everything went white…
Her thoughts raced faster than her breath.
Jaxon stepped back a little, silent, watching her recover.
She looked up at him, her voice weak.
"W-Where… am I?"
Jaxon spoke low. Calm. "You're on an island. The ship… it sank."
She blinked. Her lips trembled. "I… I remember… something hit it…"
She placed a hand on her chest, still catching her breath.
Okay. Don't panic. You read about this. People get stranded in books all the time. First step: breathe. Second step: don't faint.
Jaxon stood and offered her his hand. She stared at it for a second, then slowly took it. He pulled her up gently.
They walked in silence, the ocean behind them.
At the camp, Jaxon restarted the fire. She sat beside it, warming her hands.
She looked around — the tools, the half-metal hut, the stone knife.
"You built all this?" she asked.
"Yes."
"…Impressive. Quiet, too."
He didn't answer.
She smiled slightly and poked the fire with a stick.
This guy… he's like one of those lone survival characters. The ones who never talk much but know how to make a spear out of sticks and rocks.
He sat on a nearby log. The silence between them stretched until she broke it.
"My name's Lina. Lina Arwell."
He nodded. "Jaxon Vale."
Lina looked into the fire. Her wet clothes had started to dry, though her shoes were still soaked. She pulled them off and set them beside the flames.
"I read a book once about a girl who washed up on an island," she said softly. "She ended up taming a bear with coconuts."
"No bears here," Jaxon replied.
She giggled. "I'll take your word for it."
He stood after a while and walked toward a pile of logs. She tilted her head, curious.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Making a hut. For you."
Lina blinked. "Wait—what? A whole hut? For me?"
He didn't respond. Just started placing sticks.
"Oh, come on," she said, standing. "That's a lot of work. You already made one. Why not just share yours?"
"I like space."
She pouted. "But it's not like I snore or anything. Probably."
He didn't answer. Just kept working.
Lina crossed her arms.
Wow. He's serious. Like, really serious. I guess that's good in survival stories… but a little awkward.
She watched him build.
"Fine," she muttered. "But I'm helping."
He glanced at her. "You sure?"
She smiled. "I read four books on camping last year. One had a fold-out map and a diagram on hut-building. I've got this."
Together, they started building.
Jaxon tied the branches. Lina gathered large leaves.
She talked a lot while they worked. About books. About the ship. About weird fruit she saw earlier.
Jaxon didn't say much. He only nodded sometimes.
But Lina didn't mind.
He's like one of those main characters who only speak when it really matters. Mysterious. A little cold. I bet he has a soft side hiding under all that silence.
As the sun lowered, the hut stood finished — simple, strong, like Jaxon's. Not too big. But safe.
Lina looked at it, hands on hips.
"Okay, fine," she said. "It's kinda cute. But I'm still calling it our hut in my head."
Jaxon shook his head slightly and walked back to the fire.
She followed, sitting close beside him again.
The fire crackled.
Night fell.
Two strangers sat side by side, quiet except for the wind and flames.
Lina hugged her knees and smiled.
"This is how adventure books start," she whispered. "Lost island, mystery guy, one fire… now we just need a quest."
Jaxon stared into the flames.
He didn't say it aloud, but he thought it.
The real quest already started.