Stranded [harry styles] ✓

10

"Something along those lines." He shrugs before offering me a hand up. I'm pulled to my feet; my coconut remains and water bottle abandoned in the dipped area of sand where I had been sitting. Harry smirks but turns and heads inland, leaving me brushing the grains off of my shorts. I seem to have no choice but to follow his lead and so begin making my way back up towards the trees. 

A coolness passes over me as we enter the shade of the canopy and I find myself smiling up at the sky from underneath my ridiculously oversized hat. I open my mouth to comment on the change in temperature only to find Harry no longer at eye level. 

Instead he's on his knees in the sand, frantically pulling at the shrubbery and within seconds there's a brown crispy mountain piling up beside him. 

"What should I do?" I ask, approaching him and his dead-leaf-stash. I can't help thinking he looks a bit like a rabid dog, relentlessly searching for its bone. 

"Look for sticks, coconuts, dead leaves. Anything flammable. The more the merrier."

He's very serious about this.

"O-k." I respond slowly and make my way into the greenery that he's so desperately de-rooting. The needle-tipped grass tickles and scratches my ankles as I weave through it; nudging a pathway with my feet so that I have a better view. There's nothing to be found until I stub my toe.

"Crap!" I exclaim and begin awkwardly hopping on one foot. I can practically feel the big toe on my right foot pulsating and I'm half expecting to find it huge and glowing like in a Looney Tunes sketch.

"What on Earth are you doing?" Harry calls from behind me. I have to mutter a constant string of swear words before I can bring myself to reply.

"I think I've found a coconut." I call back, glancing over my shoulder at him where only the top of his mauve hat is visible. He doesn't congratulate me on my findings, just continues the repetitive motion of his hands with beige grains flying around him like a localised sandstorm. 

I bring my focus back to the offending object at my feet. Sure enough it's distorted round, brown and hairy. A coconut. I reach down and bring it into my chest, glaring at it as I do so. If it wasn't for the fact that Harry is a developing pyromaniac or that it's a requirement for our survival/SOS call then I probably would launch it into the ocean to prevent further toe-harm. 

I continue my hunt in the grass, gradually building an armful of chunks of dried, crispy palm leaves and bark. I'm a fair few metres from Harry now, I can't even see him behind me when I turn but I know that he's there; reassured by the occasional rustle, laboured breath and swear word. I suspect that he too may have sustained a toe related injury. 

When I reach the water pool, I take a few moments to soak my throbbing toe and scathed ankles. Something about this area of the island is so serene. Despite my armful of dead vegetation, my feet submerged in the cool lagoon is reminiscent of many seaside holidays where being only ankle-height in the water is tolerable. I have this sudden urge to tells Jules about 'the time I went foraging' but my chest is weighed down by the realisation that I may never get to tell Jules anything ever again. I quickly make my way to the bank and climb out, gripping hold of my stash and making a beeline back in the direction I came. 

I can see through the canopy overhead that the sun is lower now and the sky not as blazing as it was when we began this crazy task. 

We have to build this fire.

I will tell Jules about foraging. 

"Harry!" I call out as I pick up my pace. My feet skid in the sand but I keep striding ahead, shaking my head about to stop my hat from obstructing my view of the surroundings. The coconut jostles in my arms and dead leaves make a getaway. I have to stop numerous times to re-gather them, not wanting to jeopardise this fire.