The island is dying

The warmth of happiness didn't stay with them forever. The cold troublesome days were waiting for their turn to arrive. As the morning wore on, the absence of the black birds' cheerful chirping began to gnaw at their nerves, amplifying the eerie silence that enveloped the island. Every rustle of leaves and whisper of wind seemed to echo with an unsettling emptiness, as if the very heart of the island had been muted.

With furrowed brows and tense expressions, they set about their daily routines, each movement tinged with an unspoken sense of urgency. The usual camaraderie and laughter that filled their mornings gave way to hushed conversations and wary glances exchanged between them.