It's times like these that I'm glad I made no promise to update on a certain day because I haven't posted a chapter in over a week, and I hate disappointing my readers more than anything. I'm sorry if I've done so with this delayed update.
I'm so thankful for my readers and the dedication they have to this story. The reviews are amazing to get.
Quick note: Pay close attention to the last paragraph of this chapter. It comes massively into play later in the story. Next up is Owen's point of view, finally, so hopefully you all are as ready for a change of pace as I am.
A small fire glowed in the darkness of night, providing little comfort for those who could manage to huddle themselves around it. Arizona and Mark were stuck next to the plane, and Jerry was trapped in the cockpit, hindering their chances of being warm that night.
Derek leaned against the plane, listening to Jerry explain that no one could find them, likely because the transmitter had been damaged in the crash. Jerry was relaying information he already assumed to be true, but he listened anyway, his eyes focused intently on the ground. "If the transmitter's damaged-"
"We could be here for days." Derek cut him off, looking up at him with accepting eyes. He was quickly learning to accept his fate. It made it easier to sleep without the hope of rescue shrouding his brain.
He looked over at Meredith, who was huddled next to Cristina by the fire, staring unrelentingly into the flames ahead of her. Her face was stoic; completely void of expression. She was too tired, too jaded, and in too much pain to express emotion. The two had sat in silence for several hours at this point, both of them pondering the same idea, both for different reasons. "Zola," Meredith said, breaking the silence.
Cristina stared at her for a moment, debating whether to talk about the object of her attention. "Owen has got to have figured out we're missing," she said quietly, hopefully. He had, hadn't he? Surely by now, he would have realized they weren't at the dinner; that they hadn't made it back, and he would be actively searching for them. God, how she wished he were there with her. In her exhausted state, she could've sworn she felt his arms wrap tightly around her body, his body pressed up against her, shielding her from the sharp wind that threatened the life of their fire with every gust. She could almost feel his breath on her neck, whispering sweet words of comfort as she pressed herself deeper into his chest. It felt real. She felt warmer knowing Owen was right behind her, protecting her from this cruel reality.
And then he was gone. The whole thing-gone. The biting wind piercing her face came back full-force, causing her to wince from the pain it brought. She realized she had been staring at Meredith for a long while before coming out of her daze. She turned her head toward the crash site. "I know he sent someone."
As the night wore on, the temperature continued to drop. Derek, Cristina, and Meredith had bundled themselves in layers upon layers of clothing, but it didn't help much. Cristina's teeth chattered so rapidly, she thought they would break. "I'm hungry," she announced, knowing that she had said it just five minutes before.
Meredith looked straight ahead, barely acknowledging Cristina. "Think about something else," she said, as if it were really that simple.
Cristina remained silent for a matter of ten seconds before saying it again. "I'm hungry."
Meredith looked over at her. "I have a stick of gum," she said unenthusiastically.
Cristina lightly shook her head. "I don't want gum. I want food." Suddenly, the flame decreased from a decent flame to barely a flicker. "Oh," she said nudging it with a tree branch. "Shoot." The flame finally disappeared, leaving them in a huge pit of darkness. She pulled the matches out of her coat pocket. "Great, we have one match left." She held up the lone match for Meredith to see, but Meredith had fallen into a light slumber. Cristina shook her by the shoulders. "Hey, no sleeping." Meredith stirred. "You have to stay awake."
"Yeah." Her voice was drowsy, and her eyelids were opened a mere fraction.
"Derek," Cristina turned her head to make sure Derek hadn't fallen asleep too. "Derek, you too. I want everyone conscious," she said, this time a little louder so that the others would hear her. "Mer, light the match. Careful, it's our last one." Meredith took the matches from Cristina and struck the match. It lit for a brief fraction of a second, then died out. They both looked at the match in disbelief, then relaxed back into a sitting position, resigning themselves to their fate.
Meredith then dug the piece of gum from her pocket, broke it into two pieces, and gave one half to Cristina. She looked at it for a moment before putting it into her mouth. It's better than nothing, she thought.
She stared around at all of the sleeping survivors, furious that she was the only one awake. Why did she have to be the responsible one? Pansies, she thought, lightly tapping her cheek to keep from falling asleep. A deep rumble echoed through the trees then, reviving her to complete awareness. "Mer," Cristina whispered, her heart racing. Her friend gave no signs of consciousness as she heard the rumbling sound again, this time much louder than before. Whatever was making that noise was getting closer and sounded capable of ripping her to shreds. She had no intentions of getting up and drawing more attention to herself, but then she realized what had probably attracted them. Arizona, she thought, panicking. She grabbed the pocket knife from next to Derek and slowly; cautiously made her way over to Arizona and Mark. As they were mostly inside the plane, she only had to guard one side, the opening of the plane. She sat a short distance from the pair, very careful not to disturb them. If they started to make noise, they would essentially be giving these animals coordinates to their exact location. Cristina chuckled to herself. 30 minutes ago, she was annoyed that they had all fallen asleep on her when she needed them to stay awake, and now, she was praying to every god she could imagine that they wouldn't wake up and get them all killed. Life was a funny, funny paradox.