Heavy waves crash along the island shore, distributing the damage done with every tide that rolls in—emerging from them, a survivor. She scrambles onto the shore, searching for any sign of help, but all seems lost. Walking along the treeline of the forest, she picks up small twigs and branches and carries them a few feet out to build a fire. Before long a scorching fire is illuminating the starry sky and smoldering the sand around it. The survivor collects more lumber and clusters them in a pile beside her before drifting off to sleep on her sandy makeshift bed.
As the night carries on, the winds pick up and blows across the island. The envious fire soon follows the lead of the wind but then adventures on it’s own. Advancing from each branchlet that the survivor had placed down for it, the fire steps closer and closer to the unknown forest from which it was once apart of. The growing fire clings on to one tree, then another, then one more—its flames spreading like jealousy.
The fire had became more powerful than it had once thought was unfeasible; gaining more dominance and drive with each leap it took. The fire had liked this feeling, but it soon dwindled as the last branch was in sight. While emerging from the treeline, the fire’s drive for combustion had dulled down.
Regaining control of itself helped the fire to come to its senses at the edge of the shoreline holding on to the last twig on the island. Before continuing on into the salty hydrosphere, the fire turns to catch one last glimpse of the unintentional damage that lays as the residue of its path.