Dawn arrived with a clear sky and the air heavy with salt. Samuel woke with his body aching from the night without fire. The first light of the sun filtered through the shelter's leaves—warm, but not warm enough to bring comfort.
He sat up, stretching slowly. The empty stomach had become a constant sensation, something he had learned to ignore. He gave himself just a few minutes before starting again.
He had to make fire.
He tried once more the wooden bow method he had improvised the day before. He rubbed, spun, blew, adjusted pressure and speed, but the smoke never turned into embers. He slammed his fist on the ground in frustration. Around him, the sun was already climbing in the sky. It was mid-morning. The heat would soon be unbearable.
He decided to change tactics. He went to the shore, planning to walk along the beach. Maybe the sea had thrown something useful during the night. He walked on the hot sand, dodging dry seaweed, branches, and coral fragments. At first, he only found trash: bits of plastic, a broken sandal, a worn fishing net.
Then, half-buried in the sand, he saw something reflecting the sunlight. He bent down and dug with his hands until he pulled out a thick glass bottle, unlabeled, with a chipped but intact neck.
He held it, turning it in his hand. The glass was clean, and when he angled it toward the sun, a beam projected onto his arm. He could use it as a magnifying glass.
His heart beat a little faster. He hurried back to camp, picking up other useful things along the way: worn ropes, a plastic bag that could serve as insulation.
But just as he began organizing his finds, the sky changed.
Dark clouds appeared without warning. The wind began blowing hard from the sea, shaking the palms. The first drops fell with unexpected violence.
Samuel ran to his shelter, but the leaves came loose easily. The joints unraveled, the structure trembled beneath the curtain of rain.
He tried to hold the branches but it was useless. He grabbed what he could: the bottle, the knife, some coconuts. The rest he left behind. He needed to find a dry place.
He ran through the vegetation, soaked within seconds. He slipped, hit himself on branches. The rain blinded him. Then, between two large moss-covered rocks, he saw an opening in the hillside. It wasn't taller than him, but it was deep.
He entered without thinking.
Inside, the cave was narrow but dry. It smelled of stone, earth, and ancient moisture. Samuel collapsed in a corner, shivering, his bare feet covered in mud.
Clutching the glass bottle, he listened to the thunder of the rain outside, which seemed endless. The whole day passed like that, with the sky roaring and water pounding the jungle.
There was no fire, no food, no bed. But there was a roof.
And that, for now, was enough.