Night fell on the Island with stealth and cunning, cloaking the castaways in its customary shadow.

Words seemed to have disappeared with the sunlight; there was little but the sound of the many crackling fires speckled across the sand intermittently, bestowing warmth and a source of light. Those who huddled around them were rendered silent, taciturn. Only an occasional murmur could be heard, a whispered conversation.

Chelsea watched the tamed flames dance before her eyes, slightly mesmerized by their brilliance. She held her palms up, feeling warmth tickle her skin with a feather light touch. Tearing her eyes from the fire, Chelsea glanced around the beach thoughtfully.

She was seated by four others, whom she had assumed to be around the same age as her. One of the faces she had recognized immediately, upon seating herself around the fire, as the man who had helped her pull the woman from the wreckage. They had shared a look, a brief nod. His name was Denny.

Looking around, Chelsea took in the familiar faces. A few feet behind her, the man she had seen lying unconscious on the beach was seated, the contours of his sharp face shadowed by the blazes. Although still pale, he seemed to be in good care. A young woman with similar looks was seated beside him, and a young blonde man across from her.

To her left, the woman she had pried from the wreckage lay, looking peaky. Her eyes were closed. Chelsea frowned, worried, until she made it the faint rise and fall of the woman's chest. Two young adults, who Chelsea inferred were her children, doted on her. The boy stroked her hair, an expression of shocked misery on his face, while the girl stared listlessly into their fire. An old man sat on a piece of broken wood across from them, looking to be in deep, deep thought.

Up ahead, the two men she remembered to have been the parents of the children at sea were seated, speaking in barely audible tones. The two children, Eliza and Charlie, were asleep now, their faces pale with exhaustion.

The fire farthest north from her own was occupied by none other than the three people who had stood under the segment of the boat holding the fuel tank. Julia, the younger woman, leaned her head on the shoulder of the older woman, whose name Chelsea learned to be Mirabelle. Mirabelle took Julia's hand in her own and squeezed it. The man who had asked her name sat at somewhat of a distance from them, and Chelsea could only see the side of him. She watched as he whittled away at a small stick with a pocket knife, eyes downward. Vaughn.

The sound of shifting sand stirred Chelsea from her observations, and she looked up. The old man who had been seated with the injured woman and her children had stood up, and was walking into a clearing in the center of the beach. More and more eyes turned upward as he approached the clearing, following his movements curiously.

Once his destination was reached, the man simply stood for a few moments, looking out at everyone as they stared back at him. After nearly half a minute of silence, he cleared his throat.

"As I'm sure most of you have noticed, we've landed ourselves on this nice little Island."

Somewhere amongst the crowd, somebody snorted. A low murmur broke out for a few seconds, before falling silent again. The man resumed his speech.

"We're here, stranded, on this here Island, and there's nothin' we can do about that now except deal with it. I'm not gonna stand here and pretend that I'm certain that people are out there lookin' for us, cause I'm not. I don't know how long we're gonna be stuck out here. Nobody does."

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

"So, in the meantime, I think we need to figure out what we're gonna do. My top two priorities right now are survival and rescue. "

He paused, and looked up at the sky. Without thinking, Chelsea followed his gaze and was met with a beautiful sight. Stars were dusted over nearly every spot of the night sky, reminding her of a dark satin sheet covered with diamonds. There were more than she had ever seen; in the city, the perpetual lights always seemed to hide most from sight.

Looking back down, Chelsea continued watching the man. He was no longer watching the sky either.

"The way I see it…we're gonna to have to work and live together, if we wanna survive. Who knows? Maybe all this happened for a reason." The man smiled to himself briefly, before continuing again. Chelsea heard a quiet scoff somewhere to her left.

"That said…I think it would be in our best bet to split up the duties amongst everyone-"

"What kind of duties are you talking about, Gramps?" a bold voice called out. It was the girl sitting beside the injured woman. Her arms were crossed defensively, and she looked skeptical.

"As I was gettin' to before I was interrupted, Natalie," the old man grumbled sternly. "There's a lot that must be done around here. For one, we gotta salvage all that we can from the wreckage. Debris, wood, metal, cord…anything that may be able to be used for shelter. Then we've gotta gather all passenger belongings together, and deem what can be used from that. "

"Does that include personal possessions?" a familiar voice drawled.

Along with several other people, Chelsea glanced waywardly at Vaughn. He was staring straight ahead in the direction of the old man, waiting for an answer.

Scratching his chin, the old man seemed to consider Vaughn's question seriously. He then shrugged. "Guess it all depends on if it could be useful to the rest of us, and just how personal of a possession it is to you."

Vaughn acknowledged his answer with a curt nod. His countenance remained unchanged.

"We've also gotta have some people map out the Island, to search for areas where shelter could be built, as well as fresh food and water sources. And then of course, we'll need some people to help build the shelters themselves."

"And the prospect of rescue? What of it?" another voice asked. This one was distinctly female, and Chelsea thought she could detect a faint accent behind the words. It was a single woman, seated alone at a fire a few feet behind Chelsea. She looked exotic, different from the rest.

The old man sighed. "Rescue's gonna be our second priority. Once food, water, and shelter are established and under control, we'll expand on our rescue signals. After we've explored the Island, we'll find the highest point on land and build a fire there. Among other things."

The woman nodded, seeming to think his answer was sufficient enough for the time being.

Nodding to himself, as though needing reassurance, the old man then stood straighter. "As for tonight…It's too late to start any real work duties. It could be dangerous in the dark, especially on unknown territory."

A collective sigh of relief seemed to spread throughout the castaways.

"Our best bet…would be to find shelter where we can. Stay warm and dry, and don't go wanderin' off. There's safety and comfort in numbers. My gut's telling me it'll be sunny tomorrow, so we shouldn't have to worry about the possibility of another storm rollin' in. Tomorrow morning, we'll begin assigning duties."

Quiet conversation broke the silence as everyone began moving to find a suitable shelter for the night. Before anyone went too far, Taro added one last comment.

"Gee, I almost forgot! Pardon this old brain o' mine, it can be forgetful. My name's Taro, if anyone needs me."

And with that, the old man Taro became the unofficial leader of the castaways.

"Well. Tomorrow should be fun. "

Chelsea looked up at Denny's, and couldn't help but to smile. At least he was still optimistic enough, despite the past several hours, to crack jokes.

"Oh, definitely," Chelsea agreed half-heartedly.

The guy next to her, Mark, got to his feet and stretched. "You know, this whole thing might not be so bad…Maybe old Taro's right. Maybe this all did happen for a reason." His green eyes were clouded in thought.

The girl to the left of Chelsea, Lanna, snorted. "Yeah. And maybe we'll discover a five-star hotel hidden somewhere in the jungle. Wouldn't that be nice…"

"No need to be such a downer, Lanna," Pierre, the youngest of the group, reprimanded. Chelsea found herself thinking that no one could really take him seriously, with the combination of his clothing and childlike face. "This Island could be full of wonders! Full of undiscovered plants! Ingredients! Oh, the possibilities!"

Chelsea bit back laughter. If anything, she could say she admired Pierre's passionate enthusiasm.

"Whatever. Let's go try and find some shelter, huh? I'm going to need as much sleep as I can get, especially since I'll be sleeping on sand…"

Lanna crossed her arms and clenched her teeth, holding back a shiver. Now that it was brought to Chelsea's attention, the temperature had dropped a lot in the night…

As her group left behind the dying fire and began to search for available shelter, Chelsea found herself wandering away from them and moving towards where Taro was standing with his family. They didn't seem to be moving to find different shelter, and for a moment Chelsea wondered why not before seeing the injured woman sitting against a large boulder. When she saw she was awake, Chelsea felt a wave of relief.

"How are you doing?" she asked, crouching down to the woman's eye level.

Despite looking exhausted, the woman looked at Chelsea and smiled. "Much, much better. All thanks to you, of course. I…I think I owe you my life, whoever you are."

Chelsea felt herself grow warm. "Chelsea. And really, it was nothing. I saw that you needed help, and did what anyone would have done. I'm just glad you're okay."

The woman stuck out a hand in Chelsea's direction. "Well, it's great to officially meet you Chelsea. I'm Felicia. If there's anything, anything you ever need at all…Please, feel free to let me know."

Smiling, Chelsea nodded her assent. "Will do, Felicia. It wasn't just me, though…That man that helped me, Denny, was the real hero. I wouldn't have thought of using a tourniquet to stop the blood flow."

Felicia nodded. "Yes, he was rather heroic as well. Kept perfectly calm, and seemed to know exactly what he was doing. The next time I see him, I'll have to let him know," she said warmly.

Just then, the two young adults Chelsea had seen earlier walked back over to where she was speaking with Felicia. The young woman who had spoken out at Taro earlier repeated Felicia and stuck a hand out towards Chelsea.

"I'm Natalie," she said, shaking Chelsea's hand firmly. "I heard you pulled my mom out from some wreckage…I want to thank you. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't?"

Chelsea shrugged, smiling. "I'm Chelsea. And you're welcome. I did what I would hope others would do for me, were I in that situation."

The boy standing next to Natalie cleared his throat then, looking bashful. Chelsea noticed he had a rather nasty looking black eye, and wondered what had happened for him to receive such a shiner.

"I'm Elliot. I know you've already heard this, but I'd just like to say it for myself…Thank you, for helping my mother out. It could have been a lot worse, if you had just left her like that. Our whole family is grateful to you."

"Nice to meet you, Elliot," Chelsea said. "You're welcome. Anyone with common sense would do the same, I hope. You see someone in need, and help them."

Elliot blushed and smiled. "I-I feel the same way. Thanks again."

Chelsea nodded and bid the family goodbye, feeling almost optimistic despite the circumstances.

Looking around, she realized that nearly everyone had found a suitable place to hunker down for the night. Trudging through the wreckage, she travelled along the beach in search of shelter.

Her feet aching, Chelsea settled for a hollowed out section of the boat for the night. Taking her jacket off, Chelsea splayed it over herself to use as a blanket before curling up against the hard sand.

All around her, people were gradually succumbing to sleep, drained by the day's trauma. The conversation gradually died down to the low murmur from earlier; Chelsea found herself absorbed in the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore. Growing relaxed, her eyes began to feel more and more heavy.

Several yards away, Chelsea watched a man sit against a piece of wreckage nearest the ocean. She could only see his side profile, the same as earlier. He took off his hat slowly, placing it on the ground beside him, as sea foam nipped at his boots. He said not a word to anyone.

She wondered if he liked the ocean.

With a last coherent thought, Chelsea closed her eyes completely, and felt herself drift away into sleep.