My sleep was restless. I dreamt of clinging to the edge of a cliff, my hands slipping on the rock as I fought to hold on, the wind whipping at my body. My fingers were sliding from the frozen surface, and I just couldn’t find any support, my legs hanging over the abyss…

The stress of the dream jolted me awake.

As my eyes opened, I was still lying on top of Winter, but my knot was gone, and my cock had returned to its normal size.

Winter was asleep.

With my head lifted, I watched him for a moment, marveling at how his features looked so relaxed from the nap, they were so perfectly balanced, so symmetrical.

And those lips… enough about them!

It was already close to an obsession.

But what about those incredibly long lashes? Somebody should acknowledge how flirty and curly they were, as if trying to seduce someone on their own. Way too cute for no reason.

My God, I was ridiculous with these compulsive observations, but I really did like everything about him.

Feeling emotional, I had the urge to wake him up and tell him how glad I was that it was him here with me. But I didn’t. Instead, I rested my head back down and… fell asleep again, warmed by his skin.

***

I woke to his movement, my body sliding off his as he sat up.

A dull ache pulsed inside me, I wanted to be filled again, but for some reason, I was too embarrassed to say it out loud.

Winter’s gaze landed on the next food can, and so did mine.

At the same time, we both lifted our heads, our eyes meeting in silent understanding.

"Maybe we should start a new one," I muttered.

"Maybe we should wait a bit," Winter said thoughtfully.

"Maybe tomorrow we should start rationing," I murmured again. "But today, we still need our strength."

We reached for the can almost simultaneously. I quickly withdrew my hand, letting Winter open it. Each of us took a handful.

For a while, we ate in silence, watching each other. The guilt was written all over our faces.

We both knew this wouldn’t last much longer. Our bodies were demanding more food. That small quantity wasn’t enough. I saw the way Winter’s eyes lingered on the can, just like mine did. It took real effort not to reach for another handful.

"Maybe we should rinse off. You lose less energy in warm water," I muttered, just to say anything.

We slid into the stream quickly, I settled onto my usual rock seat, one leg resting on the rocky streambank. Maybe there was something to what I’d said because the warmth actually helped me detach from my obsessive thoughts about needing more food.

It was alarming, though. It was only the second day, and I already felt this hungry. How was this going to go?

We sat in silence for a while.

"Skye’s son is due in June," Winter said suddenly.

Why was he saying this? Was he afraid he wouldn’t be there to see him?

"Your first nephew, right?"

He looked at me, hesitation flickering across his face.

"No, I actually have a few nephews," he said. "I’ve just never met any of them."

I blinked. "Ah, from your brother, River—the one who ran away?"

"Yes. Only my uncle, Van, has sporadic email contact with him, and he managed to find out that River has children. Five, to be exact."

"Five? Oh my God," I breathed. "Didn’t you guys… try to reach out?"

"My dad tried over and over, but River never wrote back. He clearly wants nothing to do with us."

"I’m really sorry… things like that can cast a shadow over a family’s happiness."

"That’s true," Winter admitted. "My dad suffered a lot because of it. To this day, he always set an extra place at the table… because he still hopes that one day, River will come back."

I brushed my fingers lightly against his arm.

"Maybe one day a miracle will happen, and River will reach out," I murmured.

Winter turned his face toward the cave entrance, where timid rays of sunlight filtered in.

"I don't know. I hope so. Either way, I don’t know his kids, so the first nephew I’ll actually get to see will be Skye’s son. That is… if I ever get to see him."

The statement sounded rather gloomy. Almost instinctively, I searched for some light, turning my gaze toward the sliver of sky visible outside the cave, pale gray, with the sun barely piercing through the heavy clouds.

After a brief hesitation, I decided to ask another question, one important to me.

"Have you ever thought about having kids of your own? I mean, you know, through adoption?"

From Winter’s expression, I could tell the topic made him uncomfortable.

"You know how it is. Being a beta, I’ve learned to live with the fact that I’ll never have biological children. A lot of betas develop an aversion to kids, to the idea of parenthood."

"Yeah, I heard something about it, back during my college years. Some activists from the Beta Empowerment movement were handing out leaflets to omegas and alphas that were basically discouraging us from having kids."

"Yeah, most of them truly hate kids. Do you know how that works? Psychologically, you tell yourself over and over that kids are awful, that you're not missing out on anything by staying far away from those little monsters. You keep repeating to yourself, ‘It’s great that I’m a beta and won’t have to deal with stinking diapers’, and eventually, you start to believe it." He shrugged.

"So, did you ever have moments when you thought you hated kids?" I asked tentatively.

Winter hesitated, his gaze somewhat vacant.

"In beta culture, that mindset is almost the default. A lot of us start to cultivate that aversion from the moment our subgender is confirmed. Teachers and psychologists reinforce it, too—"

"But there are still plenty of betas who adopt."

"Yeah, usually the ones who didn’t go to college. BE courses are mandatory there. If you even hint that you want kids, the Beta Empowerment activists will come after you, and you’ll have a rough time on campus. But there are also strong individuals with a more nuanced perspective. They just stay quiet."

"It’s that intense? Damn, I had no idea."

Winter was silent, playing with a handful of gravel, letting it trickle through his fingers.

"Winter… do you think that way too? Do you hate kids?" My voice trembled with barely hidden fear. If he hated kids, we had a serious difference between us, because I very much wanted to have them one day.

Winter’s eyes met mine, and there was a strange inquisitiveness in them.

"No, Sariel. I try to see it rationally. Even if I know that hating the idea of parenthood would make it easier to deal with my infertility."

The reality of infertility, the emotions tied to it, and all the defense mechanisms the mind might create in response felt distant and alien to my own experience. It was hard to put myself in Winter’s shoes.

"The truth is, most betas don’t actually hate kids; they only hate the idea that they can’t have them, the ‘no-choice’ paradigm. It’s an inner protest against the popular view that being infertile makes you less of a human."

Sighing, I admitted, "I can imagine there were many factors that led to the rise of Beta Empowerment. Infertility was seen as a malfunction for so many years when humanity was struggling to regrow the population. Betas were told they were not as valuable. Unfortunately, omegas and alphas did push that onto betas a bit."

"Exactly. More than once, during fights with my brothers, I was called a ‘barren half-human’. My infertility was thrown in my face as an insult."

"I’m sorry, that’s awful."

"But both perspectives are way off for me. I don’t see my infertility as something that defines my stance on having kids. And I'm certainly not going to stir up hatred in myself in one aspect—just to make myself feel better in another."

"So you've accepted it? But does that mean you'd be open to adoption?"

Winter gave a small, somewhat sad smile. "Yeah. I think I’d be willing, especially if the child was my partner’s, born through surrogacy."

He hesitated, biting his lip, and my gaze instantly fixated on that spot. But his eyes were focused on the cave entrance, where daylight poured in.

"Sometimes, I let myself think about what it would be like; to raise a little human in my home, to be given their love and to give love in return. That thought isn’t unpleasant to me. Some say children enrich life. It’s an enormous test of character, a second maturation. But every path has its disadvantages. I don’t see one as inherently better than the other anymore. It’s a choice—and it should be an informed one—whether we want to experience one type of life or another. Either way, there’s something fulfilling to be found on both paths."

"I’m glad you think that way. It seems like a rational approach."

"I don’t hold any extreme views. I guess you could say I’ve chosen the middle path, a moderate one."

"They say the middle path is the healthiest. People have been saying that since ancient times."

"Well, look at us, getting all philosophical," Winter said with a small smile.

"Well, we have to talk about something while we’re stuck on this island. But maybe this whole discussion is pointless… since we might never get off."

Our eyes met.

Silence fell between us again, and I hated that silence, the kind that meant both Winter and I were thinking about our situation.

"Winter, I feel like we’re being too carefree about all this. I’m scared the heat is clouding my judgment," I whispered, my voice a bit shaky.

Winter swallowed hard. "Believe me, I know what you mean. For now, I’m still keeping the worry at bay, but it’s coming. If no one shows up…" He trailed off.

A short pause. He furrowed his brow.

"I—I should go. Walk around the island, check the sky for drones, maybe touch up the ‘H’. It got a little covered overnight."

I nodded, even though I could already feel another wave of heat building inside me. But I didn’t want to stop him. This was important, these first days were critical.

"But eat something before you go," I urged him. "We should open a new can, you'll need your strength."

He nodded cautiously, his eyes immediately gliding toward the cans.

Not long after, Winter left the cave, and I stayed alone. I felt my body curling up in want, so I slipped into the water, sitting there as the heat pulsed through me. Every so often, I let my fingers drift down, stroking myself just enough to bring on those small, rippling orgasms, to take the edge off. Over and over, I kept telling myself this was important, Winter needed to look for drones.