Elias gripped the stone in his hand, its sharp edge biting into his palm. The growls on the other side of the entrance were a broken chorus, each sound more desperate than the last. The branch curtain had been torn to pieces, and a pair of hungry eyes stared at him from the narrow tunnel he'd left in the cave. The wounded savage, still lying on the ground, growled weakly, as if celebrating the arrival of its kind. Elias didn't have time to hate it. Only to survive.
The first savage pushed the body of its dead companion, trying to slip through the gap. Elias didn't hesitate. He struck with the stone, straight at its skull. The impact echoed in the cave, a wet crunch followed by a moan that faded fast. The body collapsed, blocking the tunnel even more. But the growls didn't stop. Another savage scratched from outside, its nails scraping the rock as if trying to dig its way in.
Elias backed up, the rusty knife now in his free hand. The cave was his advantage: the tunnel forced the savages to come one at a time. But he couldn't stay there forever. There were too many, and he only had a stone, a knife, and a body screaming for rest. He glanced at the water pool, the piled rocks, searching for a plan. Then he saw it again, carved on the wall: the symbol, a circle with crossed lines, like a broken star. In the moonlight, it looked deeper, more alive. Elias looked away. He didn't have time for riddles.
A new thud shook the entrance stones. The dead savage's body shifted, pushed from outside. They were working together, or at least trying to. Elias cursed under his breath. He couldn't wait for them to get in. He had to move. He ran to the back of the cave, where the pool reflected the light. He'd seen something earlier, a narrow crack in the rock, barely visible. It could be an exit. Or a tomb. There was no other choice.
He slipped through the crack, knife first, the stone tucked in his shirt. The rock scraped his chest, the cold air cutting his skin. The cave opened into a narrow tunnel, the floor covered in slippery moss. Elias moved by feel, the echo of growls fading behind. He didn't know where this led, but anywhere was better than staying trapped.
The tunnel ended abruptly, opening onto a slope covered in vines. Elias stepped into the open air, panting, the forest stretching before him like a mouth full of teeth. The moon was still high, painting everything in sickly grays. No howls now, just silence. But he didn't trust it. Silence on this island was a liar.
He moved fast, keeping under the shadows of the trees. His boots barely touched the ground, each step calculated to avoid snapping a branch. He'd learned to move like this as a kid, hunting with his father in the hills. He never thought those lessons would save his life. The knife was ready in his hand, the stone in his shirt a comforting weight. He wasn't going to let them catch him off guard again.
Then he saw it. A movement, subtle, behind a fallen tree. It wasn't a savage; it didn't move like them. It was slower, more careful. Elias crouched, his heart racing. It could be a trap. But it could also be something else. Someone else. He gripped the knife and advanced, step by step, until he was close enough to see.
It was a woman. Or what was left of one. Thin, with short, dirty hair plastered to her skull, her clothes in tatters. She was crouched, tearing moss from a rock with trembling fingers. She didn't growl, didn't sniff the air. But her eyes, when she raised her head, had a glint that wasn't entirely sane. Elias stayed still, the knife visible but not raised. He didn't want to fight if he didn't have to.
"Hey," he whispered, his voice low to avoid drawing the others. "Do you understand me?"
She looked at him, blinking fast, as if trying to remember what a voice was. Her lips moved, but no sound came out, just a dry hiss. Elias took one step closer, slow, like approaching a wounded deer. She didn't run, but she didn't come closer either. She just watched, her hands clutching the moss as if it was the only thing keeping her in this world.
"Easy," Elias said, showing his palms, the knife pointing at the ground. "I don't want to hurt you. I just… need to know what's going on here."
She tilted her head, eyes narrowed. For a second, Elias thought she might speak. But instead of words, she let out a low moan, not a growl, but something softer, almost sad. She pointed at the moss in her hands, then brought it to her mouth, chewing slowly. Elias felt a pang in his chest. She wasn't a savage, not entirely. But she was close.
He tried something else. He knelt, keeping his distance, and drew a line in the dirt with the knife. Then a circle. He looked at the woman, waiting. She blinked, confused, but then crawled closer. With a trembling finger, she drew a cross inside the circle. It wasn't exact, but Elias recognized it instantly: the symbol from the cave, from the tree. His skin prickled.
"What is that?" he asked, pointing at the drawing. "Have you seen it before?"
She moaned again, louder, frustrated. She hit the ground with her hand, as if she wanted to explain but couldn't. Elias felt a knot in his stomach. This woman knew something, something important. But the island had stolen her voice, like the others. He tried again, drawing an arrow, then a boat. Escape. Freedom. She looked at him, eyes shining, and shook her head, a slow, almost resigned motion.
Before Elias could try again, a howl broke the silence, not far off. The woman tensed, looking toward the forest. Elias followed her gaze, knife ready. The savages were close again, maybe tracking him from the cave. He stood, ready to run, but the woman grabbed his arm, her fingers surprisingly strong. She didn't growl, didn't attack. She just pointed in a direction, toward a hill covered in vines, and pulled him.
Elias hesitated. It could be a trap. But those eyes, though broken, didn't have the same hunger as the others. He nodded, tucked the knife away, and followed her, both moving fast through the trees. The howls grew louder, more numerous. And then, as they ran, Elias saw something in the dirt, half-hidden by leaves: another symbol, identical, carved on a stone. But this time, fresh blood dripped in the lines, as if someone had marked it minutes ago.
The woman didn't see it, or didn't want to. But Elias felt a chill he couldn't explain. Something was guiding them. Or hunting them.