The brutal bouncing knocked the breath out of Eleanor with every step. She didn't know how long he carried her. Eventually, the dense trees began to thin. The sharp scent of woodsmoke and roasting meat hit her nose, followed by the chaotic noise of human voices.

Jace stepped out of the tree line.

Eleanor's upside-down view opened up to a massive clearing. It was a sprawling camp built into the side of a rocky cliff, dotted with natural caves and crude huts made of branches and hides.

Several heavily muscled men, covered in blood and holding stone knives, stopped butchering an animal carcass. They let out loud, barking cheers at the sight of Jace, but their eyes immediately locked onto Eleanor.

Her bright blonde hair and pale skin stood out like a beacon. The entire tribe stopped what they were doing. Dozens of pairs of eyes-curious, hungry, and hostile-stared at her.

Eleanor felt a suffocating wave of panic. She buried her face into the rough fur of Jace's loincloth, trying to hide from the piercing stares.

The crowd suddenly parted. A young woman shoved her way to the front. She wore a pristine white animal pelt and a necklace of vibrant bird feathers. Greta's face was twisted in an ugly sneer.

Greta's eyes darted from Eleanor's face down to the white wolf tooth resting against Eleanor's collarbone. Her face went pale, then flushed with violent rage. She let out a piercing, ear-splitting shriek.

She lunged toward Jace, pointing a trembling finger at Eleanor, screaming in their harsh tongue. Though Eleanor couldn't understand the exact words, the venomous translation was clear from the crowd's gasps: "The Chief's mating token! You give the sacred claim to this pale outsider? !" The hatred in her eyes was palpable.

Jace barely glanced at her. He let out a single, deafening roar that shook the dirt under their feet.

The surrounding tribe members flinched and took a collective step back. Greta froze, the color draining from her face. She clamped her mouth shut, but her eyes burned holes into Eleanor's back.

Jace didn't stop walking. He carried Eleanor straight through the center of the camp, heading toward the largest, highest cave carved into the cliff face.

He stepped into the shadows of the cave. The air instantly cooled, smelling of dried grass and male sweat.

Jace bent down. He dropped Eleanor onto a massive slab of stone covered in a thick, striped pelt that looked terrifyingly like a saber-toothed tiger.

Eleanor scrambled backward the second her hands hit the stone. She clutched her tactical backpack to her chest, pressing her spine against the cold cave wall. She stared at him, her breathing ragged.

Jace watched her for a moment. He turned his back on her and walked to the cave entrance. He grabbed a boulder the size of a mini-fridge and effortlessly dragged it across the opening, blocking half the wind and the only exit.

He walked over to a clay pot in the corner, poured water into a crude wooden bowl, and walked back to the bed. He held the bowl out to her lips.

Eleanor's throat was parched, but she looked at the dirty water, then at the dried blood still smeared on his mouth. She turned her head away sharply.

Jace didn't force her. He brought the bowl to his own lips and drained it in three massive gulps. He tossed the bowl aside.

He looked at her, pointed a thick finger at the wolf tooth on her neck, then thumped his own chest twice. The message was clear. Mine.

He turned and walked out of the cave, his heavy footsteps fading down the path.

Eleanor waited until the silence settled. Her muscles turned to jelly. She slumped against the wall, dragging in deep, shaky breaths.

She had to get out.

She crawled to the edge of the cave and peeked around the boulder. The path led straight down into the main camp. Two massive men with spears stood guard at the bottom. Greta was standing near them, glaring up at the cave.

There was no sneaking out the front door.

Eleanor scrambled back to the bed. She unzipped her backpack. Her hands shook as she pulled out her inventory: a multi-tool knife, two bottles of water, three energy bars, a first-aid kit, a lighter, and her heavy tactical flashlight.

She grabbed the flashlight. It was made of aircraft-grade aluminum, heavy and solid. She checked the battery indicator. Four green lights. Full charge.

She gripped the textured metal handle, hiding it inside the long sleeve of her windbreaker. She forced her breathing to slow.

Heavy footsteps echoed outside. The smell of searing fat and blood drifted in. Jace was back.

Eleanor threw herself back onto the tiger pelt. She hid the backpack behind her and pulled her knees to her chest, feigning absolute terror. But inside her sleeve, her thumb rested firmly on the flashlight's rubber switch.

Jace's massive frame blocked out the remaining sunlight. He held a massive chunk of roasted meat, grease dripping down his forearm. His eyes were dark, fixated entirely on her.

Jace stopped at the edge of the stone bed. He shoved the slab of meat toward Eleanor's face. The outside was charred black, but thick red blood still oozed from the center.

Eleanor's stomach violently contracted. The smell of raw blood and unrendered fat made her gag. She pressed herself harder against the rock wall, shaking her head frantically.

Jace let out a low grunt. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. He tore a piece of the meat off with his teeth and chewed, his jaw muscles working.

He didn't take his eyes off her. His gaze dragged over her pale face, down to the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the windbreaker. The air in the cave grew thick, suffocatingly hot.

He swallowed the meat. He tossed the rest onto the floor.

Before Eleanor could blink, Jace lunged.

His massive hands clamped around her ankles. He yanked backward. Eleanor screamed as she was dragged flat onto her back, sliding across the pelt until she was pinned directly beneath him.

His weight was crushing. The heat radiating from his skin sank into her bones. His heavy, ragged breathing fanned across her neck.

Jace grabbed the collar of her windbreaker. He didn't know how zippers worked. He simply closed his fists and ripped his arms apart.

The heavy nylon tore with a sickening sound.

"Get off me!" Eleanor shrieked.

Her right arm whipped out from her sleeve. She jammed the tactical flashlight directly into Jace's face and slammed her thumb down on the tail switch.

Three thousand lumens of blinding white light erupted in the dark cave. The strobe function pulsed at a dizzying, high-frequency rate.

Jace let out a deafening roar of pure agony. His pupils, dilated for the dark cave, took the full, unfiltered blast of the tactical strobe. He dropped her jacket, his hands flying up to cover his eyes as he reeled backward.

Eleanor didn't hesitate. She gripped the flashlight with both hands. She aimed the jagged, crenelated strike bezel at the side of his head.

She swung with every ounce of adrenaline in her body.

The heavy aluminum smashed into Jace's temple with a hollow thud.

Jace grunted. His eyes rolled back in his head. His massive body swayed for a second before collapsing sideways onto the stone bed like a felled tree.

Eleanor dropped the flashlight. Her chest heaved, pulling in jagged breaths. She stared at his motionless body, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard it hurt.

She waited thirty seconds. He didn't twitch.

She scrambled off the bed, her legs shaking so badly she almost fell. She grabbed the flashlight, clicked it off, and plunged the cave back into shadows.

She grabbed her multi-tool, sliced a strip of fabric from her ruined jacket, and wrapped it tightly around her bruised wrist. She slung the backpack over her shoulders.

She crept to the cave entrance.

Night had fallen. The camp was dotted with small fires, but most of the tribe was asleep. The two guards at the bottom of the path were sitting on the ground, their heads nodding in sleep.

Eleanor pressed her back against the rock wall. She slid down the path, placing her boots carefully to avoid kicking loose stones.

As she passed Greta's hut, a loud mumble came from inside. Eleanor froze, her blood turning to ice. She held her breath until her lungs burned. Silence returned.

She slipped past the sleeping guards, keeping to the deep shadows cast by the fires. The moment her boots hit the soft, damp soil of the forest edge, she broke into a dead run.

She plunged into the pitch-black woods, running until her lungs felt like they were bleeding.

She had no GPS. No stars visible through the canopy. Within twenty minutes, she was completely, hopelessly lost.

The forest grew eerily silent. The crickets stopped chirping. A foul, musky odor drifted through the damp air.

A rustling sound came from the bushes ahead.

Eleanor stopped dead.

In the darkness, a pair of glowing, sickly green eyes opened. Then another pair to her left. Then two more to her right.

She slowly turned in a circle. There were five of them. Giant prehistoric wolves, their lips curled back to expose jagged, yellow teeth. They had her completely surrounded.

Eleanor backed up slowly until her spine hit the rough bark of a massive ancient tree. There was nowhere left to run.

The wolves were slightly smaller than the monster Jace had killed, but they were still the size of lions. Saliva dripped from their jaws in long, thick strings.

A sharp hiss sounded directly above her head.

Eleanor jerked her chin up. A snake as thick as her forearm, covered in vibrant, toxic-looking scales, was slithering down the trunk. Its triangular head was pointed straight at her face.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Trapped.

Eleanor ripped her backpack around to her front. Her mind flashed through countless hours of wilderness survival courses, panic threatening to override her logic. She forced her trembling hands into the main compartment, desperately fumbling for the two specific items she had packed as an absolute last resort. She pulled out her windproof lighter and a small spray bottle of 90% isopropyl rubbing alcohol from her first-aid kit.

The alpha wolf let out a low bark and charged.

Eleanor flicked the lighter. She aimed the spray bottle at the wolf and squeezed the trigger repeatedly.

A three-foot jet of roaring orange flame erupted from her hands.

The fire caught the alpha wolf straight in the snout. The beast shrieked, a high-pitched sound of pure terror. It twisted mid-air, crashing into the dirt, and scrambled backward, the smell of singed fur filling the air.

The sudden burst of heat and light made the snake recoil instantly, slithering rapidly back up into the dark canopy.

The rest of the pack flinched away from the fire, whining, but they didn't leave. They widened their circle, pacing nervously.

Eleanor knew the alcohol wouldn't last. She dropped to her knees, keeping the lighter lit, and frantically swept dry leaves and dead twigs into a pile in front of her. She sprayed a tiny bit of alcohol on the pile and ignited it.

A small, crackling campfire flared to life.

The wolves hated the light. They stayed just beyond the edge of the illumination, their green eyes glowing with predatory patience.

The temperature dropped rapidly. Eleanor shivered violently, her teeth chattering. She kept feeding the fire with whatever twigs she could reach without stepping away from the tree.

Within an hour, the fuel within her reach was gone.

The flames began to shrink. The circle of light tightened.

The wolves noticed. They stopped pacing. They lowered their heads, creeping forward inch by inch as the fire died down to glowing red embers.

Eleanor pulled a collapsible metal trekking pole from the side of her pack. She snapped it out to its full length, gripping the rubber handle with both hands. Her palms were slick with cold sweat.

A faint rustle sounded behind her right shoulder.

The snake had returned. It launched itself from the brush, aiming straight for her calf.

Eleanor caught the movement in her peripheral vision. She threw her weight to the left. The snake's fangs grazed the fabric of her pants, leaving two streaks of clear venom on the nylon.

Eleanor swung the trekking pole like a baseball bat. The metal shaft cracked against the snake's body, sending it flying into the darkness.

But the violent swing threw her off balance. Her boot slipped on the damp moss. She fell hard, her left hand landing directly in the hot ashes of the dying fire.

She screamed, yanking her burned hand back to her chest.

It was the opening the wolves were waiting for.

The alpha howled. Three wolves lunged simultaneously, leaping over the smoking embers.

Eleanor swung the pole blindly from the ground. She caught one wolf in the shoulder, but the wolf on her right clamped its jaws around the metal shaft.

The beast yanked its head back violently. The force ripped the pole from Eleanor's grip, tearing the skin off her palm.

She was defenseless.

The alpha wolf was right on top of her. Its jaws opened, aiming for her face. The stench of rotting meat washed over her.

Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut and threw her arms over her head.

A roar tore through the forest.

It wasn't an animal. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated human rage, so loud it vibrated in Eleanor's chest.

The wolves froze instantly. The alpha snapped its jaws shut, its ears pinning flat against its skull. The predators looked into the darkness, their eyes wide with sudden, absolute terror.