Ever since the crash, something has been leaving tattoos on my arm. That’s the only way I can describe it, at least. I don’t think it’s made of ink, and I certainly never felt the needle pierce my skin, but they appear regardless. 

It’s not an intricate tattoo, or anything artistic or unique. It’s just a tally mark. 

It started at one, on the day of the crash. The next day, I looked down, and it had changed to seven. A few hours later, it was nine. I never even felt anything, never saw anything change it. It just changes. A few times per day. 

I’m at forty-one right now, and I’m no closer to figuring it out than I was five days ago. 

The mission was supposed to be a simple one. Get in the shuttle, explore a planet a few light years from our own, and come back. The asteroid that collided with our ship while we were slingshotting around another planet on our journey was something not even I could predict. It had such an infinitesimally small chance of happening that I didn’t bother putting in the risk report to base. 

I’ll never make that oversight again, that’s for sure. Assuming I make it back home, off this sandy waste of a moon. The asteroid didn’t even have the decency to direct us towards the planet, for God’s sake. 

I notice a trickle of sand to my right and feel the ground give way, my feet slipping 

make a point to steer very clear of it, knowing from experience that it’s evidence of a sinkhole nearby. One of my other crewmates, Reece, made me aware of that fact on day one. 

It’s quiet nowadays without his jokes. 

I can see the patch of greenery from yesterday’s trip looming just over the horizon. I take a look upwards to see where the sun sits in the sky, stopping for a moment, before feeling a sudden, horrible pain in my 

very quick glance up, noting that the sun is almost about to reach the top of the sky, and then turn my attention back to the ground. Wouldn’t want to get eaten alive by sandfly larvae. 

Looked painful when it happened to Lorelei. 

After another few hours of walking, I reach the green patch, immediately climbing up the singular tree and reaching for one of the fruits 

staring cautiously at the creature that was imitating a tree. It didn’t move last time, but there was no way to know it wouldn’t move this time. Maybe it was friendly, but who knows. 

I crouched in the grass, tearing up a few roots and tossing them into my pack. Food was fairly scarce around here, especially since all of our stores as well as the miniature vegetable garden we had on board were annihilated in the crash. I notice my arm as I’m foraging – it reads forty-four now. I scowl, looking around to try and find whatever, or whoever, was doing this to 

almost dropping my guard to look for a culprit, but out of the corner of my eye, I see the creature shift. It was so slight, I could have imagined it. 

I didn’t, though. 

I keep my eyes directly trained on it, slowly walking away with my full pack, turning on my heel and sprinting across the sand once I deemed myself far enough away. 

Thankfully, the trip back is uneventful. With the sun ending its journey beyond the horizon, I reach the crash site, sighing with relief. I unload my supplies, eat a couple weeds, and settle down for a good, long night’s sleep 

decide I should probably get an early start tomorrow. The grass at that place won’t last forever, after all. I need to be searching for more greenery. 

Though, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get to sleep. It’s almost as if something is preventing my eyes from closing. 

Huffing with frustration, I sit up in my bedroll and, out of curiosity, look at my arm. 

Forty-six. 

I wish I knew what it means. 

I guess I’d rather not know what it means.