Blood tastes sharp, metallic and it spreads quickly across fleshy terrain. I watch it run from my nose down to my bare chest. The skin it dries on feels tight and stretched. Dylan stands over me, fists clenched. The last piece of bread is still in my hand. He will do anything to get it. I must save it. It will feed me and Sannja.

I dodge the fist heading towards my already bloody head and run, feeling my way through the undergrowth. I don’t hear him following me. Good.

Sannja is sitting, waiting for my return from the plane with food. Her family died on the plane, leaving her to fend for herself wherever we are. I sort of took her under my wing, and have gladly provided for her. Sannja is beautiful. Her dark eyes are ringed by a halo of lashes and her hair is thick and wavy, a brown with a noticeably red hue.

As I walk into camp, she smiles as she reaches her thin arms out to me, ready to accept a piece of bread. “Please Declan. I’m hungry.” She quietly says. When I give her the bread, she rips into it, not even tasting it. I watch her beauty explode as she turns animal, eyes flashing and face flushed. I eat mine slowly, and when she has finished, I give her a tiny bit of mine.

“We’re not going to make it back alive Dec. We should enjoy each others’ company while we still can,” she says after our meal of bread. “I guess so…” I reply hesitantly. What does she mean?

Sannja answers my question for me, leaning over and kissing me. I look at her for a long time after. Did she like it? After a while we turn our ways, heading off to bed. I can see the spot where she sleeps, on a bed of soft grass. I imagine her hair fanned out as she sleeps. I lie down and sink into a restless sleep.

I feel something cold on my face. I open my weary eyes. It is still night. Sannja sits at my side, wiping the trail of blood off of my face with a wet rag. When she is done, she walks quietly back to her bed. I don’t thank her, but watch her walk away.

Birds wake me up in the early morning. I get up slowly, muscles stiff. I walk over to Sannja’s bed. Her hair is fanned out. Her face looks pale in the morning light. I lean over and kiss her forehead. She doesn’t wake. I search for a pulse. The pulse that should have been there is gone. Her hand is still clutching the bloody rag she cleaned my face with.

I arrange wildflowers around her body. I do not dig a grave. I run my hands through her hair once, and then turn away, walking into the unknown.