By the fifth day, the island had already done what civilization couldn't.
It stripped everyone down to instinct.
Ethan and Lena moved at first light, following a narrow path where the sand gave way to roots and damp soil. The air changed under the trees—cooler, heavier, full of insects and distant rustling.
Ethan paused beside a cluster of broken ferns and pointed.
"Tracks."
Lena crouched. "Boar?"
"Maybe. Maybe something smaller." Ethan scanned the brush. "Either way, animals mean water somewhere nearby. Nothing lives this deep without it."
They marked the area with stacked stones and a cut branch pointing east—primitive navigation, but enough to avoid getting lost.
"Rule one," Ethan said. "Always leave a trail back."
Lena nodded. She had stopped arguing with rules. On this island, rules were mercy.
When they returned to the beach near noon, they found Mercer's camp in full political theater.
The rich businessman—Zhao Lei—stood in the center, speaking loud enough for everyone.
"We need order. We need leadership. Panic will kill us before hunger does."
His two followers nodded like trained props.
Captain Mercer stood beside him, jaw tight, trying to look authoritative while being positioned like a puppet.
One of the women whispered, "So who leads?"
Zhao spread his hands with a polished smile. "Captain Mercer has maritime experience. He should be team leader."
Perfect move.
Give the title to someone else.
Keep influence behind the curtain.
Ethan watched from a distance, unimpressed.
Lena lowered her voice. "They're really doing elections?"
"They're assigning liability," Ethan said. "If things fail, blame the captain. If things work, Zhao takes credit."
Mercer accepted with a stiff nod. A few people clapped weakly. No one looked convinced, but fear makes bad systems feel comforting.
Then Mercer's eyes found Ethan.
"Ethan!" he called. "You and Lena should join us. We can pool supplies and improve everyone's odds."
Zhao smiled in support, too quickly.
Ethan didn't move.
"Pass."
A murmur ran through the group.
Mercer frowned. "This isn't the time for division."
Ethan's expression stayed flat. "You're right. That's why I'm not joining one built on lies."
Zhao's smile vanished for half a second, then returned thinner than before.
"Suit yourself," he said. "But this island rewards cooperation."
Ethan met his eyes. "Real cooperation does."
He turned away before they could reply.
Lena followed, but after a few steps she glanced back at the camp—at Mercer standing in front, Zhao standing behind, and everyone else standing in between.
When they reached their fireline, she asked quietly, "Are we making enemies?"
Ethan checked the horizon, then the tree line.
"On this island," he said, "you don't need enemies. You just need people who want what you have."
He knelt by the fire pit and added wood.
"Tomorrow we go back inland. If we find freshwater, that changes everything."
Lena sat beside him and stared at the smoke rising into an empty sky.
Two camps now.
One built on authority.
One built on function.
Sooner or later, one of them would break first.