The Island

1. Running

Jordyn

I take another step away from the two yellow eyes staring out of the short bush in front of me. The animal blinks once and lets out a guttural growl. The bush quivers, and I hold out my hands in front of me- as if two dainty hands could protect me from a huge cat.

"Stay, little kitty," I whisper as I walk backwards, carefully placing each bare foot in the soft moss before moving again. The bush and animal move when I do. They're attached to one another. It's hard to tell in the dim light if the leaves surrounding its head are actually leaves or matted clumps of hair.

Swallowing, I take another step but land on a branch. The crack wakes up the animal's rage, and it pounces.

It plants two paws the size of dinner plates on my shoulders and knocks me backwards onto the ground. Its breath smells like rotting flesh as it opens a huge mouth over me.

Instinct kicks in, and I swing at the animal with a closed fist. It yelps but doesn't budge. Razor sharp claws dig into my stomach and chest and hold me against the ground with a thousand pounds.

The animal's fur is dark brown. The hair gathering around his neck is a darker shade, almost black. Bits of meat clump the matted hair, which drips with crimson blood. It looms over me, twice the size of a normal lion, more like a horse.

Panic swells in my chest.

This isn't the way I'm supposed to die. Not mauled by a mutant lion with teeth the size of my fingers or in a mysterious jungle with no idea who I am or how I got here.

Nothing makes sense in my head. Everything feels chaotic, jumbled up like pieces of a puzzle, but there's one piece missing. This puzzle will never be put back together.

I think I'm used to feeling like there's something AWOL in my head.

I think, anyway.

Yet, staring up at the tendrils of pink saliva stringing between black teeth, laying in the middle of a jungle I've never seen before, there's more than a little missing.

Somehow, I know I'm not supposed to die like this. That much is clear.

So, I use my foot and kick the lion off. It requires tremendous effort, but my legs prove stronger than my noodle arms. He scrambles back a few steps, and I grab the opportunity with both hands and take off at a sprint through the trees.

Sunlight filters down through the canopy overhead and projects glittering shadows in my path. The trees hold hands and snuggle so close to one another that they force me to turn sideways and squeeze through them. I snake in and out, following no particular path or goal.

Anywhere is better than under that lion.

My breath comes in quick short bursts as I pump my arms at my side. The lion tears through the trees behind me and fills the short distance between us with snarls and low roars.

A huge tree appears in front of me, and I wheel around to my left and resume sprinting. Only when I hear the animal grunt and snort do I look behind me. As I watch, he slams head first into the tree.

That means I'm more agile than he is. I smirk and turn again when I approach two trees that prevent me from passing through. The lion slows down in order to turn.

It would be silly to get cocky, though, because I hear it panting behind me, smell the coppery scent of whatever its last meal was, feel it thundering as it runs. He's still faster than me.

Suddenly, the ground under me shifts. Moss gives way to rocks. The world changes. Trees thin out. Sunlight bears down on me. I squint and brace myself as I burst out into the open. My feet catch on something thick, and I roll forward on myself.