Chapter 2

2

O ctavia

I am woken up by the sound of moaning. I quickly realize that I am the one making all the noise and I force myself to stop.

What the hell!?

I'm fastened into the helicopter seat, upside down, with my seatbelt and shoulder straps digging into me. The events of the last few minutes come back to me in a rush. I crash-landed. I'm alive.

Holy shit, I made it.

I smell the acrid scent of smoke. My eyes are burning, so I rub them, my hand coming back red with blood. My blood.

Crap! Crap! Crap!

I take stock. My head hurts. My nose is bleeding. It drips down my face. I think that's what is stinging my eyes, together with the smoke. My right knee is throbbing, but I don't think anything is broken. My hands shake as I unclasp the harness, tucking my head to my neck and dropping with a thud. I groan and grit my teeth against the pain shooting through my body. I suck in a lungful of smoke and then cough like a mad person. One thing is for sure: I need to get the hell away from here. So, I crawl from the wreckage, careful not to cut myself on the glass and torn metal.

What is left of the helicopter is on its side; smoke curls from the engine in an almost lazy fashion, and the smell of fuel hangs heavy in the air. I stagger away, almost tripping over my backpack.

Yes! At least I have some meager supplies, which is better than nothing. I grab the pack, turning toward the thick jungle.

Where am I?

I'm not on Draig anymore; at least, I don't think I am. I might be on that other island. What did they call it? I think for a moment. Mistveil…that's it. The island where the feral dragons live.

Yeah, right!

I give a snigger and then shiver, even though it isn't cold. I'm thinking about all the possible predators out here. The real ones, that is. Then I smile and roll my eyes. At least I don't have to worry about dragons since they don't exist. I'm not sure why the government is lying to us or why I was even sent here as a Tribute in the first place. What was it that they said? We're descendants of the Sky Wardens, that we could have the ability to bond mentally with dragons on Draig Island. I would laugh out loud if it weren't for my predicament. Come to think of it, I was probably a little hasty in my escape attempt. I should have stuck it out and then chosen to go home. It just made me so mad. What gives them the right to send us as Tributes? They forced us to swim that river. They were forcing us to make attempts at that ridiculous obstacle course. Not everyone makes it off the island alive – and for what? So that we can bond with these imaginary dragons? There has to be a catch. Some other reason why we were there, and I, for one, wasn't going to stick around to find out. I only wish I had a few more hours of actual flying under my belt. I might have made it. Or I might have crash-landed in the middle of the ocean and been eaten by sharks. Perhaps this is the better outcome, but not by much.

Crap!

I sigh. I can do this. I need to find help. There is only one way to do that, and it's by moving. I start walking on shaky legs. I refuse to believe the other possibility, namely that I am alone on this island and destined to live the rest of my life isolated out here.

Nope! That isn't going to happen. I have so much to live for. So much I still need to do with my life.

I'm not stuck out here. I mean, there was talk on Draig of people moving here a long time ago. Actually, that isn't true; they said that roughly half the dragons moved out here. That they are completely feral. Since I don't believe in dragons, I have to believe that they were talking about humans. If I can find these humans, I'll be fine. Maybe they can even send me back home.

Home.

Now, there's a thought. I can do it. I will make it happen. I unzip my backpack. Three bottles of water and four protein bars are all I have, but they'll have to do. I'll keep the bottles once they're empty to refill if and when I find clean water.

I crack open a bottle and use a tiny bit of water to wash my face, which feels caked with blood. My nose is a little sore. I must have somehow knocked it when I crash-landed.

I still can't believe I survived. I seal the bottle and put it back inside the pack, zipping it back up, and pulling it over both shoulders. I'll have to ration my supplies. There has to be water out here. Possibly even food, too – things like nuts and berries. I'll force myself to keep going until I find help.

I march on. Despite it still being fairly early, the temperature is already high. It's humid, and my hair is already sticking to my forehead. I have no idea which direction to take. It's not too overgrown to the right, so I follow what feels like a game trail. Hopefully, it will lead me to water. Better yet, to people.

As I trudge on through the dense underbrush, my heart pounds in my chest. Each step sends a jolt of pain up my leg, reminding me of the crash-landing. I don't think I hurt my knee too badly, but I could do with some rest and an ice pack. Fat chance of that happening.

The thick foliage blocks out most of the sunlight, casting shadows that seem to dance and shift around me. The jungle is quiet…too quiet, perhaps.

Nah! I mustn't let such things get to my head.

I stumble over a gnarled root, barely catching myself before falling face-first into the dirt. I wince, gripping my knee. I need to be more careful. A serious injury could be fatal.

There is a loud crashing through the undergrowth in front of me, making me gasp. It sounds like something big is coming straight at me.

My heart starts racing. Should I turn and run? Maybe I should climb a tree? Before I can do either of those things, a deer breaks through the vegetation. It looks petrified as it runs straight past me, not even turning to glance my way. It was so close I could have put my hand out and touched it. My mouth gapes open. That was bizarre.

I push out a breath, grabbing my chest. Shew! It was nothing. Just a deer. I can breathe easy.

There is another crashing noise up ahead in the same direction from which the deer just came. I half expect to see another deer when a man breaks through the foliage. I yelp. He's naked and covered in tattoos…and huge. He's freaking ginormous. He stops in his tracks, his eyes meeting mine.

Run!

Run!

Terror grips me as I turn on my heel and flee as fast as my legs can carry me, which isn't nearly fast enough.

Faster!

I hear him gaining on me. It doesn't matter how hard I push myself. Within no time, the brute catches up to me, grabbing me from behind.

He laughs. "Female." I swear he growls the word rather than says it. "Mine."

Then he scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder like I'm a sack of freaking potatoes, and there is nothing I can do about it except scream my lungs out and paddle his back with punches that don't seem to affect him at all. To think I was worried about being alone on this island.