Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

Their exploration group, Jude, Rose, Stella, Emma, and Serena, moved through the orchard’s outer perimeter and into the northwest stretch, where trees thinned and gnarled roots curled out of the earth like sleeping beasts. They marked glyphs with chalk, painted ribbons onto branches, and studied the movements of moss and insects. The air was heavier here, more still. No watchers came. Not even the faint mist trails that usually indicated their presence.

"Too quiet," Emma whispered. "No birds."

Jude crouched beside a mound of roots that had grown over a half-buried stone. He dug carefully with a bone knife, revealing faint etchings beneath. Symbols. Familiar ones.

Stella knelt beside him, brushing dirt with a sprig of dried grass. "It’s a naming stone."

Jude stared at the symbols. They weren’t watcher glyphs, they were something older. Almost human. He traced the edges, lips parting in realization. "These are from the first year."

Rose peered over his shoulder. "Before we built the orchard?"

"Before the watchers came close." Jude brushed the moss away. "I carved this."

Serena frowned. "Why here?"

"I don’t remember."