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I roll my eyes, but keep my mouth shut.

Micah at least softens with Naomi, but he flexes his jaw and walks over a few steps and grabs a large stick anchored beside two rocks. “Look. The amount of wood we need is more than you think. It burns quickly, and wet wood is useless. So no fucking green branches. It’s everywhere, you just need to know where to look.”

“I asked her to get a fir tree branch.” Thomas steps forward, carrying a large log. “I need it for two more shelters I plan to make. Fir branches seem to work the best for insulation since we don’t all have a tarp.”

One tarp—the second stayed at the plane with the others. It is unclear who will use it, but since Micah is building a shelter with it, we can make an assumption. Micah merely nods at his friend. Only Thomas and Maison can truly communicate with him, something even Naomi seems to struggle with.

The others come over to join us. Maison slides in beside me, causing the entire group to stare at us. Micah’s eyes direct right to Maison’s hand, which finds the exposed part of my skin between my shirt and pant line. Everyone has questions, I’m sure, but no one asks. Maison and I haven’t even talked about what happened between us last night, but his touch calms me, so I welcome it.

It’s only when Ezra comes through the line of trees at the edge of our camp that Micah places his arms around Naomi and presses his lips to the back of her head. I swear he’s only ever affectionate with Naomi when Ezra’s watching.

Micah steps forward, as Nigel slinks in next to Jade, and Ezra stands beside Maison and me. Nigel is out of his funk, it seems, and is helping us set up our new home, and everyone is seemingly getting along.

“Alright, since we’re all here,” Micah says, “I think we need to establish some ground rules.”

“This should be good.” Nigel rolls his eyes and plops himself down on a suitcase. Ezra actually snickers at Nigel’s snide comments—the first positive interaction I’ve seen them have. They both seem to have a mutual distaste for Micah.

Micah’s face flickers with a mask of arrogance as Thomas comes up beside him like a silent giant. “Do you have something to say, Nigel?” Thomas asks.

“Look,” Maison says, waving an arm, playing peacekeeper. “We need to figure out some sort of order of things. Nigel, unless you have hidden knowledge about how to survive out here, I’d suggest we listen to Micah. He’s the only one who knows what he’s doing.” He keeps his other hand firmly in place around my hip, and I subconsciously lean into him.

Nigel merely flicks his hands. “No. No. Please, carry on. I’m so relieved you’re here to save us.” He directs his comments to Micah, but he glances at my body language with Maison. A gleam hints in his eyes, causing my neck hairs to stand on end. I’m sure living in a society where Micah’s in charge is Nigel’s worst nightmare. I make a mental note to corner him alone later; I want to know what Nigel is thinking.

Micah scans the group—at Ezra, specifically. Then, for some reason, he rests his eyes on me. “Does anyone else dispute my leadership?”

Silence.

Ezra folds his arms and scowls as his sandy blond hair hangs over his beady eyes. “Let us know what you need us to do,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

Looks like we’ve all resolved to Micah taking charge.

He angles his head down with one arm still wrapped around Naomi in a protective embrace. “Water, fire, shelter, then food. They’re all crucial, but that’s the order for our survival.”

“But I’m hungry, Micah,” Naomi whines, and I don’t miss the tightness that forms in Micah’s eyes. Naomi’s whining grates on me too, so I get it.

“I know,” he says in a calming way I’ve yet to see on him. “You’ll feel worse in cold or rainy weather without shelter, though. And we probably won’t last the night if it turns and snows on us.”

I shiver at the thought, knowing snow is inevitable given where we are.

Everyone here has side-eyed the pile of canned goods Micah has stockpiled near the edge of camp. Cans of beans, pasta, sauces, soups, all this processed delicious food just teasing us, while Micah’s plan is to catch a muskrat. And I know the lake is full of fish too, which sounds much better.

He looks at Jade and me first. “I need you girls to keep collecting wood, more than you think we need. Keep working on it until it’s dark and find the stream that feeds this lake so we can drink from it.”

I visibly tense, but Maison squeezes my hip, so I keep quiet.

“I thought this was a fresh-water lake?” Ezra argues.

Micah shifts and curls his expression like it was a stupid question, though I was thinking it, too. “It is, but lakes are stagnant, so more chance for bacteria to form. Even with our water purifier, I don’t want to risk it. Our best bet for not puking our guts out is cold water in motion. Something is feeding this lake, and we need to find it.”

He moves his attention to Ezra and Nigel. “Ezra, Thomas, and Nigel keep building the shelters. Thomas’s idea for using fir trees was a good one. It will keep it insulated, and we can put little fires in front of them if you build in a shoot to act as a chimney. Use the moss from the firs as insulation; it will help us retain our body heat at night.”

Those steam showers from New Ocean prep would be nice right about now.

A flash hits Micah’s eyes, and he stares at his brother. “You need to go fishing, Maison, since I think you’re the only one who knows how other than me. And make a big fire. Hopefully, we can use it as a signal in case a plane flies over us.

“Yeah, we got it, man,” Maison says.

The scar—that long, deep scar. I can’t help but press my hands up on his back. He moves his body closer and drops his hand until it tickles the side of my wrist, then slowly slides his fingers between mine. Micah notices—everyone notices—but I don’t care. I only seem to feel good in this place when Maison’s skin is touching mine, so I keep my hand gripped on his.