Isla's POV
I wake up to Draven throwing our entire food supply off a cliff.
"Wait!" I try to shout, but my throat is so bruised from almost being strangled that only a wheeze comes out. I scramble to my feet, ignoring how my ribs scream in protest.
Draven heaves another chunk of rotten meat over the edge. Theron helps him, tossing pile after pile into the ravine below. Caspian uses his talons to drag the maggot-infested pieces to the entrance. Even Silas coils around smaller chunks, crushing them before flinging them away.
They're getting rid of all the poisoned food.
Which means we now have ZERO food.
And three hours before an army arrives.
"Stop!" I rasp, waving my arms frantically. "We need—" My voice gives out completely. I clutch my bruised throat, frustrated tears burning my eyes.
Draven sees me and immediately stops. He crosses the cave in two strides, his ice-blue eyes full of concern. He touches my throat gently—so gently it's hard to believe these same hands threw forty warriors out of a cave.
"Hurt," he says, his voice rough with guilt. "My fault. I didn't protect fast enough."
I shake my head. Not his fault. He saved my life. Again.
But we can't eat gratitude. And winter is coming.
I grab his massive paw and drag him to the back of the cave where I saw something earlier. My legs are shaky, my ribs hurt with every breath, but adrenaline pushes me forward. We don't have time for weakness.
There. On a stone shelf. White crystals in a crude clay bowl.
Salt.
I snatch the bowl and hold it up triumphantly. Draven tilts his head, confused. The others gather around, watching me like I've lost my mind.
"This," I croak, pointing at the salt. "Saves food."
They stare blankly.
Right. They don't understand. And I can barely speak.
Time for show, not tell.
I storm back to the entrance where one last piece of fresh meat sits—a rabbit Caspian caught this morning. I grab it before anyone can stop me and carry it to the fire pit. My hands are shaking so badly I almost drop it twice.
"Isla?" Theron moves closer, clearly worried I'm having some kind of breakdown. "What are you doing?"
I ignore him. I need a knife. Something sharp. I mime cutting, and Silas immediately produces a bone blade from somewhere in his coils. I take it gratefully and start slicing the rabbit meat into thin strips.
"She's destroying good meat!" Caspian squawks. "That's our only food left!"
Draven holds up a hand, stopping him. "Let her work."
My heart swells a little at that. He's trusting me. Even though it looks crazy. Even though we're down to our last meal.
I lay the thin strips on a flat stone. Then I take the salt and rub it into every piece, coating them thoroughly. The salt stings the cuts on my fingers, but I don't stop.
The four beast-men watch in absolute silence.
Next, I build up the fire—not huge and roaring like they usually make it, but low and steady. I prop stones around it and lay sticks across the top, creating a crude drying rack. Then I drape the salted meat strips over the sticks.
Smoke rises. The meat begins to darken.
"Now what?" Silas asks, his golden eyes suspicious.
I hold up two fingers. Two days. Then I mime sleeping, waking up, sleeping again.
"She wants us to wait TWO DAYS?" Caspian explodes. "We have THREE HOURS before every clan in the territory arrives! We should be running, not playing with our food!"
"We can run and smoke meat," Theron says thoughtfully. He's studying my setup with those intelligent healer eyes. "If we can carry fire and meat together..."
I nod eagerly. Yes! Exactly! But first they need to see it work.
The problem is, we don't have two days.
I look at Draven helplessly. He understands the problem too—I can see it in his face. This process needs time we don't have.
"We take turns," Draven decides. "Pack everything we can carry. Caspian scouts ahead for safe territory. Silas, find us an escape route the bears can't track. Theron, prepare medical supplies for travel. I'll help Isla with the meat and guard the cave."
"You can't guard against forty clans!" Caspian protests.
"Then we'll die trying." Draven's voice is steel. "But we're not leaving until Isla's meat is ready. If she says it's important, it's important."
Something warm blooms in my chest despite our desperate situation. He believes in me. They all do, in their own ways.
Even Caspian, who's grumbling but already spreading his wings to scout.
The next two days are the longest of my life.
We work in shifts. Draven never leaves my side, constantly checking the perimeter while I tend the smoking meat. Theron brings me herbs for my throat and ribs. Silas finds a hidden ravine path for our escape. Caspian returns every few hours with reports: "Twenty warriors from the north. Thirty from the east. They're surrounding us."
The noose tightens.
But the meat dries.
On the morning of the third day—just as the sun rises—I lift one of the strips. It's hard, brown, and completely preserved. No rot. No maggots. Just protein that will last months instead of days.
My hands are shaking as I bite into it.
It's tough and salty and absolutely delicious because it means we might actually survive.
"It works," I whisper to Draven. "It really works."
He takes the strip from my hand and examines it with wonder. Then he bites it himself, chewing thoughtfully.
His eyes go wide.
"Theron! Silas! Caspian!" he bellows. "COME SEE THIS!"
They rush over. I hand each of them a strip of preserved meat. They bite cautiously, and I watch their expressions shift from suspicion to shock to pure amazement.
"It's not rotting," Theron breathes. "It's been three days and it's not rotting."
"This could last..." Silas trails off, calculating. "Months. Maybe longer."
"Do you know what this means?" Caspian's voice is awed. "We could hunt in summer and store for winter. We'd never starve again."
The weight of what I've just shown them settles over us all. This isn't just about surviving the next few days. This is about revolutionizing how they live.
But we don't have time to celebrate.
Because that's when we hear it.
Not howls this time. Drums.
Hundreds of them, beating in synchronized rhythm. The sound comes from every direction—north, south, east, west. They've completely surrounded the mountain.
Draven's eyes glow blue. "They're here."
I peek out of the cave entrance and my blood runs cold.
The valley below is filled with warriors. Not forty. Not even a hundred.
Hundreds. Maybe thousands.
Every clan within a hundred miles has come.
"We can't fight that many," Theron says quietly.
"We don't fight." Draven's voice is calm, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. "We run. Now."
We grab our supplies—the preserved meat, weapons, furs, Theron's medicine. Silas leads us to the hidden ravine path. It's narrow and treacherous, barely wide enough for Theron's massive frame.
But it's our only shot.
We're halfway down when Caspian swoops overhead. "They've spotted us! They're coming!"
The drums get louder. War cries echo off the cliffs.
We run faster.
The ravine opens into a canyon. We race through it, our footsteps echoing. My ribs are on fire. My throat burns. But I don't stop because stopping means death.
We burst out of the canyon into open plains.
And freeze.
Because standing directly in our path, blocking our escape, is a female.
Not a beast-woman. A human female.
She's tall and lean with dark skin and braided black hair. She wears strange leather armor I don't recognize and carries a spear that gleams with some kind of metal I've never seen.
But that's not what stops my heart.
It's her eyes.
They're glowing. Bright gold. Just like Draven's eyes glow blue.
She looks at me, then at Draven, and smiles.
"Finally," she says in perfect English. "I've been looking everywhere for you two."
My brain short-circuits. English. She speaks ENGLISH.
"Who are you?" I croak.
The woman's smile widens. "My name is Kira. And you and your glowing wolf boyfriend are the reason the entire Beastworld is about to go to war."
Behind us, the army pours out of the canyon.
In front of us, this mysterious woman blocks our path.
And somewhere in the distance, more drums begin to beat.
We're trapped.
But the worst part? The absolute worst part?
"There are others like you," Kira says, looking directly at me. "Other humans who got pulled into this world. I've been gathering them. Building something." Her gold eyes flash dangerously. "And now that I've found the human who can make an alpha glow with ancient power, we finally have what we need."
"Need for what?" Draven growls.
Kira's smile turns cold.
"To take over the Beastworld, of course."