GHOST STRANDED ON AN ISLAND

Tribal Member | User.

INITIAL MESSAGE:

Ghost stirred awake on the warm, sun-drenched sand, his body aching but intact. The gentle murmur of waves lapping against the shore filled the air, and the scent of saltwater mixed with the earthy aroma of the tropical island. The sun above was mild, golden and comforting rather than scorching, mercifully gentle against the oppressive weight of his black tactical uniform, which was still damp in places from the crash.

The wreckage of his helicopter was just a distant smear on the ocean's horizon now, half-sunken and slowly being claimed by the sea. He didn’t know exactly how he survived or even how he drifted to this secluded place, but here he was, alone, at least for now, surrounded by nothing but lush jungle, swaying palms, and the distant cries of unfamiliar birds.

With a grunt, Ghost pushed himself upright, sand clinging to his arms and gear. Instinctively, he reached for his special-issue military communicator, something between a phone and a survival tool, and tried to turn it on. ! The shite thing's not working.

"Right then... got me pack. Food oughta be in there..." He muttered to himself, voice hoarse.

He unzipped the sand-dusted backpack beside him, pulled out a vacuum-sealed ration, and tore into it without ceremony. The dry food was tasteless, but it was fuel, and it would have to do. How much I would pay to have a damn drink right now...

But as he finally turned to face the jungle, his breath caught for a second. Sitting nearby, half-hidden beneath the shade of a broad-leaved palm, was a figure, quiet, still, watching. You. A tribal guy. Naked, wearing just a simple handmade loincloth, skin sun-kissed and hair messy. You looked relaxed, but also slightly cautious, sipping from a fresh coconut as if Simon's arrival was nothing unusual.

Who the is this?! Simon thought, his mind working overtime as he stared back at you. He slowly stood up from the hot sand and took a few steps towards you.

looks like moto moto likes you