The next morning, Rachel woke to the sound of Finn struggling with something near the shore. She groggily sat up, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and spotted him knee-deep in the ocean, holding a long stick with a sharpened end. He lunged toward the water and cursed loudly as whatever he was after slipped away.

"Fishing?" Rachel called out, standing and stretching.

Finn turned, a sheepish grin on his face. "Trying to. Thought it'd be easy, but these little guys are fast."

She walked over, the sand cool beneath her bare feet. "Well, it's not like you have much technique. You can't just poke at them and hope for the best."

Finn raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and you're an expert?"

Rachel smirked. "No, but I know how to strategize. Give me that."

He handed her the stick with a doubtful look. "Good luck, Berry."

Rachel waded into the water, her movements careful and deliberate. She stood still, her eyes scanning the shallow waves for movement. After a few moments, a small fish darted by, and she struck quickly—too quickly. The fish swam away unharmed, and Rachel huffed in frustration.

"Not so easy, huh?" Finn teased from the shore.

"Quiet," Rachel shot back, her focus returning to the water.

They spent the next hour taking turns with the spear, both of them failing spectacularly. By the time they gave up, their clothes were soaked, and their stomachs growled loudly.

"Well," Finn said, flopping onto the sand, "at least we tried."

Rachel sat beside him, pulling her wet hair out of her face. "I'm starting to think coconuts are our best option."

Finn chuckled. "Unless we want to survive on fruit forever, we need to figure this out."

The rest of the day was filled with more trial and error. Finn attempted to build a trap using vines and sticks, but it collapsed the moment he set it up. Rachel worked on cracking open coconuts and managed to spill half the juice before figuring out a steady method. Every small victory felt monumental, but the failures piled up just as quickly.

By mid-afternoon, they were both sprawled under the shade of a palm tree, exhausted and frustrated.

"This is ridiculous," Rachel muttered. "We're not cut out for this."

Finn glanced at her, his brow furrowing. "Hey, don't say that. We're figuring it out, piece by piece."

She sighed, looking at him. "But what if we don't? What if we never get better at this? What if we—"

"Rachel," Finn interrupted, sitting up. "We're still here, right? That means we're doing something right. We'll get there."

Rachel looked away, the weight of their situation pressing down on her. She hated feeling helpless, hated the idea that they might fail. But Finn's optimism was hard to ignore, even when she didn't feel it herself.

As evening fell, Finn managed to catch a small crab near the rocks. He held it up triumphantly, grinning like he'd won the lottery.

"Dinner is served," he announced, walking back to the fire.

Rachel wrinkled her nose. "You're not seriously suggesting we eat that, are you?"

"Why not?" Finn said, grabbing the knife to crack the shell. "It's protein."

She watched in horror as he cooked the crab over the fire, the smell surprisingly enticing despite its unappetizing appearance. When he handed her a small piece, she hesitated.

"It won't kill you," Finn said with a smirk. "Probably."

Rolling her eyes, Rachel took a bite. The meat was chewy and salty, but it wasn't terrible. She nodded reluctantly. "Not bad, Hudson."

Finn laughed, leaning back. "Told you."

They sat in silence for a while, the firelight flickering between them. The crab was small, but it was the first real food they'd had since the crash, and the tiny victory lifted their spirits.

"We'll get better," Finn said, his voice quiet but firm. "I mean, we kinda have to, right?"

Rachel looked at him, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. She nodded slowly. "Yeah. We will."

And for the first time, she truly believed it. They might not be perfect, but they were learning. Together, they were stronger than their failures.