Isla's POV
The word hangs in the air between us like a death sentence.
Home.
Draven—the massive wolf-man whose arms I woke up in—stares at me with those glowing ice-blue eyes. His mouth opens. Closes. He looks at the others, and I see something pass between them. Something that makes my stomach drop.
He can't answer me. Which means the answer is bad.
"Home?" I try again, louder this time, even though my ribs scream in protest. I point at myself, then make a gesture like I'm walking away. Going somewhere. Leaving. "Home. Please. I need—"
Draven shakes his massive wolf head slowly. No.
The tiger-man—Theron—steps forward with something in his huge paws. A crude cup made from hollowed wood. He holds it out to me, making soft rumbling sounds that might be meant to comfort me. But all I can see are his three-inch fangs and claws that could rip me apart.
I press harder against the cave wall, even though there's nowhere to go.
"Please don't hurt me," I whisper. "Please. I don't know what you want, but I'll—I'll do whatever you need. Just please—"
Theron sets the cup on the ground and backs away, hands up like he's trying to calm a scared animal. Which I guess I am. A scared, broken, completely out-of-her-depth animal.
The golden hawk-man—Caspian—says something sharp and annoyed. He gestures at me, then at Draven, clearly arguing. His voice has an edge to it that makes me think he's saying "I told you so."
The black snake-man—Silas—watches me like I'm a science experiment. His golden eyes don't blink. It's creepy and hypnotizing at the same time.
And Draven... Draven just looks sad. Like he's trying to figure out how to tell me something terrible.
My brain finally catches up to what my eyes have been seeing. These aren't costumes. This isn't a prank or a movie set or a weird fever dream. The fur is real. The scales are real. The wings tucked against Caspian's back are REAL.
"This can't be happening," I say out loud, my voice breaking. "This isn't real. I'm in a coma. The boxes crushed my head and I'm dying in a Seattle hospital and this is just my brain's last desperate—"
Draven reaches out slowly, like he's approaching a wild animal. His massive paw-hand touches my arm. Just a light touch, but it's warm and solid and absolutely, terrifyingly real.
I burst into tears.
Not pretty crying. Ugly, snotty, gasping sobs that hurt my broken ribs but I can't stop. Everything that's happened crashes over me at once. The warehouse collapse. Waking up under an alien sky. These impossible creatures. The fact that I have no idea where I am or how to get home or if home even EXISTS in whatever dimension this is.
"I want my mom," I sob like a five-year-old. "I want to go home. I want—"
Theron makes a low, mournful sound in his throat. Even Caspian stops arguing and looks uncomfortable. Silas tilts his head, watching my breakdown with what might be sympathy or might just be curiosity.
Draven does something I don't expect. He shifts—his body rippling and changing until he's less wolf-like and more... human-ish? He still has fur and fangs and claws, but his face is more human-shaped. Less nightmare fuel.
He picks up the wooden cup and holds it out to me again.
"Isla," he says in his deep, gravelly voice. He taps the cup. "Water. For you."
I stare at him through my tears. He knows maybe five words of English, but he's trying. Despite the fangs and claws and the fact that he's literally a wolf-man, he's trying to help.
I reach for the cup with shaking hands. It's heavy and rough, but the water inside is cool and clear. I sniff it suspiciously—what if it's poisoned? What if this is some weird alien trap?
But I'm so thirsty my throat feels like sandpaper. And honestly, if they wanted to kill me, they could do it with their bare hands. No poison needed.
I drink. The water tastes clean, slightly mineral, like spring water. It's the best thing I've ever tasted.
"Thank you," I whisper.
Draven's ears perk up at the words. He repeats them carefully: "Thank you."
Despite everything, I almost smile. He's learning.
Over the next few minutes, through gestures and pointing and lots of misunderstanding, I start to piece things together. They found me in the forest. They brought me here (a cave that smells like wet fur and smoke). They're not trying to eat me (I think). They're... helping?
Theron checks my ribs with surprisingly gentle paws. He makes concerned noises when I wince. Silas brings more furs to pile around me. Even Caspian, who clearly thinks I'm a waste of resources, doesn't actually try to throw me out.
And Draven stays close, watching me with those intense blue eyes like he's afraid I'll disappear if he looks away.
"Why are you helping me?" I ask, knowing they can't understand. "Why didn't you just leave me to die?"
Draven tilts his head, not understanding the words but clearly hearing the question in my tone. He touches his chest, right over his heart. Then points at me.
I don't know what he means, but something about the gesture makes my breath catch.
The hawk-man suddenly screeches and points toward the cave entrance. Everyone freezes. Draven's body goes tense, and a low growl builds in his throat. Theron moves in front of me protectively. Silas's scales start making a rattling sound that raises the hair on my arms.
Something is outside.
I hear it now—heavy footsteps. Multiple sets. And voices. Deep, rough voices speaking in that same growling language.
The four beast-men exchange quick, urgent words. Caspian spreads his wings, ready to fight. Theron's claws extend. Silas coils his lower body like a spring.
Draven looks back at me, and I see fear in his eyes. Not fear for himself.
Fear for me.
He grabs me—ignoring my yelp of pain—and carries me deeper into the cave. He shoves me behind a large boulder and puts one clawed finger to his lips. The universal sign for "be quiet."
Then he's gone, moving back toward the entrance with the others.
I huddle behind the rock, heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. The voices outside get louder. Angrier. I don't understand the words, but I understand the tone.
These newcomers aren't friends.
Through a gap in the rocks, I watch as five massive beast-men enter the cave. They're bigger than Draven and his group. Scarred. Battle-worn. And they're looking around like they're searching for something.
One of them—a huge bear-man with brown fur and dead black eyes—says something that makes Draven snarl. The bear laughs. It's not a nice sound.
Then the bear-man sniffs the air. His head swings toward my hiding spot.
He smells me.
"THERE!" the bear roars, and I don't need to speak the language to know what that means.
He charges toward my hiding spot, and Draven slams into him mid-leap. They crash to the ground in a tangle of fur and claws and teeth. The cave erupts into chaos—roaring, screeching, the sound of bodies hitting stone.
I'm frozen behind my rock, watching the fight through the gap. Theron is fighting two enemies at once. Caspian dives from above, talons out. Silas has his body wrapped around someone's throat.
But there are too many of them. Draven's group is outnumbered.
The bear-man throws Draven off and heads straight for me. His massive paw reaches around the boulder, claws extended, reaching for my face—
Draven tackles him again, but this time the bear is ready. He throws Draven into the cave wall so hard I hear bones crack.
Draven crumples to the ground and doesn't get up.
"NO!" I scream before I can stop myself.
Every head in the cave turns toward me. The bear-man smiles, showing rows of yellow teeth.
He says something that makes his friends laugh. Then he starts walking toward me, slow and deliberate, like a cat playing with a mouse.
Theron tries to intercept him and gets backhanded across the cave. Caspian swoops in and gets grabbed mid-flight, slammed into the ground.
The bear reaches my hiding spot. Reaches for me with claws that could tear me in half.
I close my eyes, waiting for the pain.
Instead, I hear a roar that shakes the cave walls.
My eyes snap open.
Draven is standing. But he's different. Bigger. More wolf than man. His fur bristles with rage, and his eyes—
His eyes are glowing bright, electric blue. Like lightning trapped in ice.
The bear-man takes a step back, looking uncertain for the first time.
Draven speaks one word in a voice that sounds like thunder: "MINE."
Then he attacks, and the bear-man screams.