No.
I force myself to stop.
Breathe. Stay calm. Move slowly.
I lower myself onto the fallen log, keeping my leg still as I focus on the wound. The marks don’t look like much—just small punctures already starting to redden—but the heat beneath them is building, spreading outward in a slow, pulsing burn.
My heart won’t slow, but I drag in another breath. Then another.
“Stay calm, Charlotte,” I say, trying to use the sound of my own voice to steady myself.
I grab the hem of my shirt and rip off a strip, hands clumsy, then tie it around my leg just above the bite. Not tight—just enough to slow things down. That’s what Ryan always said to do.
Think. Think. Think.
What did it look like?
I close my eyes, trying to hold onto the image. Black and white. Striped, maybe. But it happened too fast to be sure.
And that’s the problem.
I don’t know what bit me. I don’t know how bad it is. I don’t know how much time I have.
The fear creeps higher in my chest.
I swallow and push myself to my feet, careful not to move too quickly. My ankle throbs as I shift my weight, the burning spreading deeper now, tightening through my leg.
Stay calm. Move slow.
I start toward the shelter, one step at a time. Each movement sends a dull ache up my leg, my body already reacting before I fully understand what’s happening. But I keep going. By the time I reach the mat, my leg is pounding.
I lower myself beside the fire pit, keeping my injured leg stretched out in front of me. The movement sends a fresh wave of pain through my ankle. Hot. Deeper now. It spreads slowly from the bite, creeping up into my calf like heat moving under the skin.
I press my palm into the ground to steady myself and focus on my breathing.
Something isn’t right.
A wave of dizziness rolls through me, subtle at first—like the world has shifted slightly off balance. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for it to pass.
It doesn’t.
My hands start to shake. I clench them into fists, pressing them against my thighs, trying to force the tremor to stop.
“Stay calm, Charlotte.”
I swallow and lean back against the tree supporting the shelter. Everything feels too big all of a sudden. The trees stretch higher. The jungle presses in on all sides, dense and endless.
And for the first time since the bite, the truth settles in.
No one’s here.
No Dane. No Ryan. No one to help if this goes bad.
The island feels enormous, and I’m completely alone.
I look down at my ankle. The skin around the punctures is growing redder and swelling.
A cold realization settles in, heavier than the dizziness.
