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“The attacks on humans would suggest otherwise.”

“There’s plenty of food here. They don’t need an underfed human.”

Wearing a serious frown, I cross my arms to avoid looking down at myself. “Underfed? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Stay put,” he says, ignoring my question. “If lions show up, scream.”

“To scare them away?”

“To alert me that there’s a mountain lion for dinner.”

“Right. So, you’ll be running back here to, what … hunt it with your bare hands?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“I’ll be back.”

Huffing, I pull my knees up and watch him climb up over the rocks of the mountain, toward the woods he pointed out a minute ago. The sweat shines across his bare back, emphasizing the massive muscles that flex with his climb. Jesus in a jumpsuit, does everything he does have to be so distracting?

Frowning, I shake my head of those thoughts, diverting my attention toward the fire. Stupid. He killed my friend. Snapped his neck like it was nothing for him. So fast, Will probably didn’t even see it coming. I tell myself he did it to be malicious and cruel, but there’s a small niggling voice inside of me that knows it isn’t true. If it was, he’d have made Will suffer. Could’ve easily broken every bone in his body, slowly, just as Agatha commanded of him.

And who knows what both Remus and Agatha combined would’ve done to Will, instead.

I grab a twig from the ground, drawing a series of nested circles, while my head toys with all the cruelties he would’ve been subjected to, including whatever boiling liquid Jarvis suffered. No, a quick death was far less painful. It’s a shame that Agatha forced him to tell her about the two of us, as I had planned to use my fake virginity as a bargaining chip for Will’s freedom, if it came to that.

It’s not as if Will and I were lovers. We were friends. Our love for each other was practical, and rooted in a long-standing history that went back to early elementary school. Sharing myself with him was both awkward and easy, and not the least bit romantic.

I stare off at the flames for a moment, and when I direct my attention down to where I’ve been mindlessly drawing for the last couple minutes, a shock of panic shoots through me when I see I’ve written Titus in the dirt.

After quickly scratching it away, I toss my twig into the growing fire and rest my chin against my folded knees, but spotting movement at the corner of my eye breaks my thoughts, and I whip my head in that direction.

A shadow crawls over the rock, the size of which could possibly be a lion, though I’ve never met one in person. Swallowing a gulp, I back myself to the wall of rock behind me, doing my best to stay out of sight. The shadow lurks again, and as it seems to get closer, it’s definitely an all-fours animal. Every muscle in my body begs me to scream, while it prowls around the corner on a slight hobble.

“No, no, no, no,” I whisper, setting my hands at either side of me.

My heart hammers inside my chest, while the shadow takes shape. Gray fur. Sharp teeth. A pointed muzzle and upright ears. Too big. Way too big to be a dog.

Wolf, maybe?

Oh, my God.

“T … T … Titus.” My voice arrives as a raspy whisper instead of a yell, my eyes glued to the animal that sits across from me, its tongue sweeping over its chops. I try not to imagine those enormous incisors pushing through my skin, tearing away chunks of meat that it’ll probably take back to its little den of wolves, where I’ll be shared like a Thanksgiving feast.

I swallow hard, and something dangling from its neck catches my eye. Squinting, I focus on the word carved into a small square of wood strapped around its throat.

“Yuma?”

The second I speak the word, the wolf dog sits back on its haunches, tongue lobbed off to the side in a sort of strange smile. The wag of its tail suggests the animal is happy?

“Is your name Yuma?”

The dog tips its head back and makes a strange noise in its throat. The sound makes me chuckle, easing my muscles.

“Are you friendly, or here because you’re starving?”

Another unusual sound in its throat, and the dog lurches forward a step, then barks, sending another jolt that flinches my muscles.