A Night of Terror, a Dawn of Survival
Monia swore to God that she had never, in her entire life, experienced a sleeping arrangement so utterly wretched and horrific. First of all, the air and ground, which had been so stiflingly hot during the day, cooled down in an instant once the sun set, chilled by the biting sea breeze until they felt like sheets of ice. If Chester hadn't built a campfire before going to sleep, she would have frozen to death.
Second, Monia had been raised far too delicately to sleep on a ground covered in sand and dirt. Her skin had been meticulously cared for since childhood, maintaining its flawless, baby-soft texture even into adulthood, and this rough ground was absolute poison to it. With her nerves frayed and on edge, she felt every single grain of sand and speck of dirt pressing against her skin with agonizing clarity—it actually hurt. Exhausted and desperate for sleep, she wanted nothing more than to lie down, yet she couldn't bring herself to do it.
And then there was the forest. Whether it was the wind or actual living creatures, the woods never stopped making noise. The forest at night felt entirely different from how it did during the day; staring into it filled her with a primal dread, as if the darkness itself were trying to swallow her whole.
She would shiver in terror until her body, unable to fight the exhaustion any longer, collapsed into a dead sleep, only to startle awake at the slightest sound and begin shivering all over again. The only things Monia could cling to were the flickering light of the campfire and the sound of Chester's breathing right beside her.
... Was night always this terrifying? The nights Monia knew were illuminated by bright mana-stone lamps lining the streets, where nobles indulged in lavish, hedonistic parties. There was never even a hint of fear in those nights.
But here, stripped of civilization, a night without light felt so incredibly, agonizingly long and frightening. Yet, Monia endured the terrors of the dark. Had she been alone, it would have been impossible, but the steady sound of Chester's breathing kept her anchored.
Every time she woke from a fitful doze, she would look over at him, terrified that he might have vanished. Only after hearing his quiet breathing and the gentle lap of the waves would she drift off again, only to wake once more. She lost track of how many times she repeated this cycle. Eventually, the morning sun climbed over the distant horizon, signaling the end of the dreadful night.
Not long after sunrise, Chester woke up as well. "Yaaawn~" Seeing him let out a lazy yawn—so utterly different from her own night of shivering terror—made a surge of irritation rise within her, but it was quickly overtaken by a deep sigh of relief.
She had been worried. What if he never woke up? What if he had died in his sleep? It was a ridiculous, absurd thought, but Monia had been pushed so close to the edge without even realizing it that such dark anxieties had taken root.
"Ugh, my body feels like lead." Chester muttered as he stood up and stretched. The exhaustion from yesterday hadn't fully faded, making his limbs feel heavy, but he couldn't afford to idle around.
I need to find a reliable water source today. They had managed to get through yesterday, but their survival on this island was still highly precarious. After loosening up his muscles, Chester headed toward the beach.
"W-where are you going? Ah!" Monia instinctively tried to follow him, only to collapse from a sharp pain in her ankle. Seeing this, Chester scooped her up and laid her down inside his makeshift shelter.
"Looks like you barely slept. Just stay there."
"...Hmph. It seems you've finally learned your place. Make sure you continue to serve me well like this."
"Whatever you say." Seeing Monia's brief look of gratitude instantly morph back into her usual haughty expression, Chester lightly tossed a handful of sand onto her face before turning back to the beach.
"Kyaah! What do you think you're doing?!"
"Just behave yourself." Chester walked along the shoreline, scanning the water.
Should I try to catch some fish? When I was a kid, I used to thrash the river with a wooden stick to stun the fish and grab them. I wonder if that works in the ocean too? Before he knew it, Chester had crossed the sandy beach and reached a rocky area. He leaped from boulder to boulder, peering into the crevices.
... Spotting a crab, Chester quickly snatched it up to examine it. Five years ago, I accompanied Monia to a coastal city she wanted to visit, and we had a crab dish. It was delicious. Since Chester grew up in a mountain valley, his knowledge of the sea was severely lacking.
Can you eat crabs raw? Feeling uneasy, Chester let the crab go. He walked a bit further and noticed some seaweed clinging to a rock. Plants. These are plants, right? Do plants grow in the sea too? Are they edible? Chester nudged the seaweed with the toe of his shoe.
What if it's poisonous? Walking along the coast revealed many things, but his lack of knowledge prevented him from utilizing any of them. The only useful piece of sea-related information Chester possessed was that one must never drink seawater.
"Oh." Right in front of him, in a pool of water trapped between the rocks, a fish was thrashing about. A fish. It was a small, weak thing, unable to escape the shallow puddle that was slowly drying up on the rock.
If it's a fish, it should be safe to eat as long as I roast it, right? Is there anything I can use to carry it? Looking around a bit more, Chester spotted the perfect item. Lucky. What kind of creature's bone is this? What Chester had found was a massive, flat seashell, wider and larger than his own face.
After scooping the fish into the shell, Chester searched the area a bit more and managed to find two more fish in similar predicaments. They were all only about the size of a finger, but he was glad to have something to eat first thing in the morning.
Returning to the shelter, Chester quickly built up the fire and roasted the fish. This brings back memories. He used to catch fish, frogs, and crawfish in the river with his friends and roast them over an open fire.
Once they were fully cooked and their eyes had turned stark white, Chester pulled them from the fire. He hesitated for a moment, wondering where to start, but since they were so small, he popped one whole fish into his mouth. He chewed carefully and thoroughly, making sure not to choke on any bones, before swallowing.
"...Delicious." Chester took his time, thoroughly chewing and savoring the three small fish.
Chester stared down at the snake slithering in front of him. Oblivious to the gaze fixed upon it, the creature crawled lazily along—a small snake, about the thickness of Chester's finger.
What kind of snake is this? It was an exotic species Chester didn't recognize, but a snake was a snake. As long as I don't eat the head, it should be safe. Carefully raising a thick branch he had picked up earlier, Chester aimed at the snake and swung.
With a dull thud, the snake collapsed, and Chester instantly pinned its head down. But as he did, the fallen snake whipped its body around and coiled tightly around his arm.
Ah, what? It's not dead? It's not even unconscious. The snake squeezed his arm with surprising strength, its slender body packing a remarkable amount of power. Chester picked up the sharp-edged stone he had been using since yesterday and began repeatedly smashing and sawing at the snake's neck.
I really need to make a knife. Only after a long struggle of pounding and grinding did the snake's head finally sever from its body.
Even severed from the body, the snake's head was still twitching. Chester tossed it beneath a tree root and placed a large stone over it to bury it completely. While Chester wore sturdy leather shoes and was safe from an accidental bite, it would be disastrous if Monia stepped on it while walking around.
Having dealt with the head, Chester brought the rest of the snake, which was still wrapped around his arm, to his mouth. He bit down hard, the scales and bones crunching satisfyingly between his teeth.
Twisting and tearing the meat away, Chester chewed the snake thoroughly and swallowed. Having devoured the entire snake in an instant, he felt reasonably full and decided to shift his focus from hunting to exploration.
The forest was alive with a symphony of sounds. Because the Floating Island was highly humid, the moisture-laden air acted as an excellent medium, carrying sounds with unusual clarity.
From somewhere in the distance came the dying cry of a beast, likely caught by a predator that had succeeded in its morning hunt just like Chester. Closer by, the faint chirping of insects and the melodic songs of birds echoed through the canopy. Occasionally, the sharp snap of a breaking branch or the dull thud of something falling to the forest floor broke the rhythm.
When the wind blew, the faint murmur of the distant ocean waves drifted in, and the rustling leaves played a refreshing melody. Amidst this tapestry of sounds, Chester caught the one noise he had been desperately searching for.
Running water. Though faint, it was unmistakably the sound of a stream. Chester tracked the sound, adjusting his course. His pace quickened instinctively, driven by the promise of fresh water.
After running for some time, he burst through the foliage. "Ohhhhh!" Chester let out a cheer as he beheld a fairly wide, rushing river. "Water!"
Overjoyed at finding the source of life, Chester rushed toward the river, only to freeze in his tracks as a shadow caught his eye. ... A cold sweat broke out across his skin, entirely unrelated to the island's heat and humidity. Slowly, Chester shifted his gaze.
There, a small bear about the size of a young child had paused mid-drink, staring intently at the uninvited guest.