The next evening, Carin stood at the washing area outside the dormitory. She scrubbed the mud from her hands, the cold water turning brown as it swirled down the stone drain.

From her pocket, she pulled out a small, red apple. She had found it at the edge of the market, discarded by a merchant who thought it was too bruised to sell. To Carin, it was a treasure, a rare source of vitamins and sugar.

She used the hem of her rough tunic to wipe the dust from the apple's skin. Just as she was about to take a bite, a hand shot out from beside her and snatched it away.

Carin turned. Sadie Boggs, a fox-female from her dormitory, was standing there. She had already taken a huge bite out of the apple, the juice running down her chin.

"Tastes sour," Sadie said, chewing loudly. "Perfect for a low-born like you."

The other females at the washing troughs stopped what they were doing. They turned to watch, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation of a show. They expected Carin to cry, to beg, to run away like she usually did.

Carin didn't do any of those things. She flicked the water from her hands and stepped sideways, a sharp twinge in her side forcing her to catch her breath as she blocked the only exit to the washing area. Her eyes, usually downcast and fearful, went flat and cold.

"Spit it out," she said, her voice low but sharp enough to cut through the damp air. "Or compensate me."

Sadie paused mid-chew, then burst into exaggerated laughter. "Are you crazy? Did a Blade Beast kick you in the head?"

Carin didn't repeat herself. She stood there, her body trembling slightly. Part of it was an act she had perfected, but part of it was genuine physical exhaustion. However, as she looked at the bite marks on her only source of sustenance, a cold, calculated anger completely overpowered her fear. In this brutal world, stepping back meant death. She couldn't retreat anymore. She took a deliberate step forward, her hand shooting out to grab a rusty boning knife from the nearby cutting board—the sudden movement sent a white-hot spike of pain through her fractured ribs, but she didn't let her grip waver.

The air in the washing area went dead. The watching females sucked in a breath. No one had expected the coward to pick up a weapon.

Sadie took a step back, the apple nearly slipping from her fingers. "Y-You wouldn't dare," she stammered.

"Clan law," Carin said, her voice steady and cold. "Theft of a laborer's rations is punishable by ten days in the mine pits."

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze sweeping over the other females. "If I report this to the patrol, what do you think? Will you still make it to the mating ceremony the day after tomorrow?"

Sadie's face drained of color. The mating ceremony was her only chance to climb out of the laborer class. If she was sent to the mines, she would miss it. She would be assigned to a rogue.

"That's... that's not a ration," Sadie tried to argue, her voice shaking. "It's just a wild fruit nobody wanted."

Carin moved her wrist. The boning knife scraped against the rough stone trough, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. It cut Sadie's words off instantly.

"I want equivalent compensation," Carin said, holding out her empty left hand, palm up. "Now."

Sadie's jaw clenched. She knew she was beaten. With a look of pure hatred, she reached into the leather pouch at her waist. She pulled out a small leaf-wrapped packet and slammed it into Carin's palm.

"Take it, you crazy bitch," Sadie snarled.

Carin opened the leaf with one hand. Inside was a lump of coarse, grayish-white crystal. Salt. Unrefined, but still a precious commodity in this world.

She closed her fingers over the packet and slipped it into her pocket. With her other hand, she tossed the boning knife back onto the cutting board. It landed with a sharp clatter.

Carin stepped aside, clearing the exit. Sadie didn't need to be told twice. She threw the half-eaten apple into the mud and fled, the other females quickly following her out.

Carin walked back to the trough. She splashed cold water on her face, washing away the fierce, dangerous look she had worn. She touched the salt packet in her pocket. It would help her electrolytes and serve as trade goods later.

A deep, resonant horn blast echoed across the settlement. It was the warning signal: the autumn mating ceremony would begin in two days.

Carin looked up toward the sound, her eyes dark and focused. Her real battle was about to begin.

Three days later, the atmosphere in the dormitory was suffocating. The air was thick with the smell of cheap perfumes and nervous sweat. It was the afternoon of the mating ceremony.

Carin was hidden in the deepest shadows of her corner. In her hands, she was carefully folding a piece of black fabric. It was a modern lace bra, the only piece of her old life she had managed to save from the crash. She had washed it and kept it hidden under the straw.

Suddenly, a head popped over the partition. It was Sadie. Her eyes were glued to the black lace in Carin's hands.

"What is that?" Sadie breathed, her voice full of longing. "Some kind of magical chest-pelt?"

Carin immediately covered the bra with a piece of animal hide, her eyes wary. She didn't answer.

Sadie swallowed hard, her usual arrogance gone. "Lend it to me," she pleaded. "Just for tonight. I want to catch the eye of a strong tiger warrior, but he thinks I'm too flat. I need... help."

Carin's mind raced. She hadn't planned to wear the bra herself. It would draw too much attention, the wrong kind of attention. She needed to be invisible tonight.

"I'll lend it to you," Carin said, her voice cold. "But you owe me. Tonight, you keep the heat off me. You block anyone who tries to look my way."

"Deal!" Sadie nodded eagerly. She snatched the bra and ran to a corner to put it on.

A few minutes later, Sadie emerged, her face flushed. The push-up effect of the modern underwire was dramatic, giving her a figure that defied nature. The other females in the dormitory gasped and whispered in jealousy. Sadie puffed out her chest, looking smug.

Once Sadie was distracted showing off, Carin finally had a moment to herself. She picked up a basin of water and a rough cloth. She scrubbed her face and neck, wiping away the layers of mud and grime.

The water reflected a face that didn't belong in this world. Deep-set eyes, a delicate nose, and skin so pale it seemed to glow. It was a face that would start a war in this clan of beasts.

Carin stared at her reflection for a single second. Then, she picked up a pot of dark green plant dye she had prepared. With a steady hand, she painted ugly, mottled patches across her cheekbones and forehead. She rubbed gray dust into her neck and arms until her skin was rough and dirty once more.

She pulled out a large, frayed gray hooded cloak. It was several sizes too big, swallowing her slender frame and hiding her curves. She pulled the hood deep over her head, casting her face in shadow.

Outside, the guards shouted, ordering all single females to the ceremony square.

Sadie came running over, grabbing Carin's arm. "Come on! Don't miss the best warriors!"

Carin quietly pulled her arm free. As she did, she slipped a sharpened bone dagger into her sleeve, the handle snug against her wrist.

She followed Sadie out into the cold, dry autumn wind. The path to the square was crowded with females in their best clothes, the air thick with the pungent smell of aphrodisiac herbs.

Carin walked at the very edge of the crowd, a ghost in a gray cloak. Her eyes looked past the noise and the lights, focusing on the central platform in the distance.

Her heart began to pound. This wasn't a party. This was a gamble, and her life was the stake.

She gripped the dagger in her sleeve, silently repeating Brannon's name. Then, she stepped into the fire-lit square.

The bonfire in the center of the square roared, sending sparks into the night sky. The smell of roasting meat mixed with the heavy, musky scent of pheromones. The stone steps around the square were packed with clan elders and high-ranking females, their eyes sharp as they evaluated the merchandise entering the ring.

Diann Fitzgerald sat in the place of honor, draped in a stunning snow-leopard pelt, surrounded by males vying for her attention.

Sadie, thanks to the modern bra, was immediately swarmed by a group of burly wolf warriors. She was laughing, the center of attention.

Using the distraction Sadie created, Carin slipped away. She moved to the darkest, most remote corner of the square, pressing her back against a rough totem pole. She pulled her hood lower, leaving only her eyes visible.

The hunting parties began to return. Each group of warriors carrying game was met with shrieks and cheers from the females. Carin's eyes scanned every face. Not him. Not him. Not him.

As time passed, most of the hunters had returned and were mingling with the crowd. A few drunk, low-ranking males stumbled toward Carin's corner, curious about the cloaked figure.

Carin took a step back, the bone dagger sliding into her palm. The blade caught a sliver of firelight.

One of the males leaned in, catching a glimpse of the green dye on her face. He recoiled, spitting on the ground. "Just an ugly freak," he muttered, and they staggered away.

Carin slipped the dagger back into her sleeve, her palm slick with sweat.

The horn blew again. The clan chief, Gareth, stood up. "All hunting parties have returned," he announced. "The mating ceremony now enters the selection phase!"

Carin's stomach dropped. All parties? Where was Brannon?

She overheard two older females whispering nearby. "That genetic anomaly didn't come back, did he?"

"Probably died out there. His cells were decaying anyway. It's a miracle he lasted this long."

Carin bit her lip hard. If Brannon was dead, she had to pivot. She had to find the stupidest, most controllable male in the clan just to survive the night.

Just as Gareth raised his torch to declare the start of the free-for-all, a loud, agonizing creak echoed across the square. The massive wooden gates at the entrance were being pushed open.

The noise in the square died instantly. Every head turned toward the darkness beyond the firelight.

Heavy footsteps. And the sound of something massive being dragged across the ground.

A tall figure, drenched in blood, stepped into the light. It was Brannon Barrett. Half his face was painted red, his silver hair plastered to his forehead. His mismatched eyes, one silver and one amber, burned with a feral, terrifying intensity.

Carin's shoulders sagged with relief. Her target was alive.

But the crowd gasped, their eyes moving from Brannon to what he was dragging behind him. It was a Blade Beast, three times the size of a normal one. Its throat was torn out, the wound ragged, clearly ripped apart by sheer, brutal force.

Brannon grabbed the beast's massive hind leg with one hand. With a final, brutal heave, he dragged it forward and let go, allowing the immense carcass to crash into the center of the square with a thud that shook the ground. Dust and the smell of fresh blood filled the air.

Diann's arrogant expression froze. Even Chief Gareth gaped in shock.

Brannon looked around the silent square, his voice a low, gravelly growl that carried over the crackling fire.

"My kill. Nobody touches it."