What started as a light drizzle escalated in minutes to a torrential storm. The rain didn't come down on their heads, but was carried sideways on roaring winds. Anything that wasn't nailed down went flying across the camp at dangerous speeds, and it was through this mess that Courtney was fighting to get back to the safety of her cabin

Despite her best efforts to keep everyone together, the others had scattered into the dark in a panic when all hell came pouring down on them. Visibility was near zero, and Courtney could only barely navigate by following the distant glow of lights in the cabins. Soon, that too was lost in the murk, and she could only hope that she was still heading forward in the right direction.

"Geoff? Gwen? Anyone?" Courntey screamed hoarsely into the night, but she could hardly hear her own voice.

Then a new sound joined the symphony of chaos swirling around her. It pierced the wind with alarming clarity. It was the sound of rushing water. Not water from the sky pelting the ground, but something akin to the thunder of a waterfall.

Suddenly, there it was. Out of the blackness, a mass of white water rushed up at her. She had no time to dodge nor anything close at hand to hold onto, and she was swept off her feet into the chilly depths. Survival instincts kicked in. Disoriented, she held a hand over her mouth to feel which way her bubbles rose. She kicked and paddled that way until she broke the surface. Gasping for breath, her head spun as she looked for land, or anything to hold onto against the rushing tide.

Something hit her in the chest, nearly knocking the wind out of her. A wood palette. She scrambled to get on top of it the moment she realized what it was. It was slick, and bobbing unpredictably in the choppy water. Her first attempt threw her off. Her second attempt went even worse. The palette flipped end-over-end and came down, hitting in right in the head. She reeled in pain as she plunged back into the cold, slimy lakewater.

It didn't keep her down. She was so full of adrenaline that she came back up swinging. She surfaced next to the palette and grabbed ahold of it once again. This time, she had a good grip to start, and inch by inch she slid herself onto the boards. It wobbled and teetered beneath her, threatening to flip again, but she refused to let that happen. Courtney shifted her weight to keep it stable on the surface, then resumed her climb. Over the next few minutes this cycle repeated, and she gained ground towards safety by a measure of inches. Until finally, she had hauled herself bodily onto that little, accidental liferaft, and clung to it for dear life.

The storm didn't let up, and just holding on and staying out of the water was a painful and exhausting labor. It felt like she grappled with nature for hours, fighting a battle to stop the abyss of Lake Wawanakwa from pulling her to its murky depths. As the night dragged on and the storm raged, Courtney felt ever closer to losing that battle. The constant bombardment of frigid rain numbed her hands and feet, sapped strength from her core with each passing minute. Her grip on the pallet would slacken and she would feel herself slip, and only the adrenaline surges gave her the strength to keep holding. Deep down she knew that if she let go at this point, she would die. She was too tired to swim for very long, her only hope was staying afloat.

That numbness that had started in her fingers and toes quickly took hold in her hands and feet next. Soon, her arms and legs became sluggish and unresponsive, and even just staying in place felt like trying to carry a mountain. Lifting her head up off the surface of the pallet to see where she was, was a struggle she managed only every couple of minutes.

When the rain abated, she couldn't recall. It was a miracle she remained conscious at this point, much less lucid, though not continually. Rather, she slipped in and out of lucidity, an ebb and flow of salience in her mind as her urge to survive and live fought against the hard physical realities that were taking their toll on her body.

In the midst of an episode of clarity she saw it. A light in the distance, and the shadows it cast hinted at the shape of land. A jolt of energy shot through her, suddenly the fog in her head cleared. She had a clear and urgent goal to reach, and not much left in her to accomplish it with. Courtney would have to use all of it here, now. If she could just get back to shore, to a warm dry bed, she'd be saved. She threw her legs over the side of the palette and kicked with all her might. Her aching muscles were fueled by pure adrenaline as she closed on the shoreline.

She carried her raft against the hammer blows of wind-gusts, forward against the battering of waves. In frigid waters she burned up, ever closer to salvation.

Was it hours or minutes that she'd been out on the water? Courtney had no answer for that as she finally crawled onto the strip of stand. Like a primordial amphibian progenitor she made the transition from that aquatic purgatory, onto the salvation of dry land.

"Chris? Chef?" She croaked weakly into the dark, her lungs impoverished of breath. "Is anyone there?"

The shore was silent. Only the sound of waves washing against it filled the air. Even the rain had stopped, and the wind had fallen off sharply, only occasionally returning as a light breeze.

Maybe she'd washed up on the far side of the island, Courtney thought. She tried to stand up, but her legs caved out from beneath and her she faceplanted on the sand again. She lay there for a moment, catching her breath, trying to find some remaining strength to carry her back to civilization.

Her next attempt to stand went one limb at a time. First, she wormed one of her arms under her to push her chest off the ground. Then, she heaved one leg up underneath her to support her weight as she rose. In little fragmentary motions she pulled herself off the beach. She took a step. It was then that she noticed she was shaking, and that she felt nothing when her foot touched the ground. She pressed on.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw something near the treeline. About waist height, it definitely wasn't a plant. Maybe it was one of the cameras on a stand? She hobbled towards it, hoping maybe someone was on the other end and would see her.

It wasn't a camera. As she got closer, the outline of a spiral formed from bones, across which some creature's skin had been stretched to form a grotesque sort of banner. Her heart sank. This was one of those morbid markers, that she'd only ever seen in one place and nowhere else.

She was on Boney Island. Carried miles from civilization, and on the brink of collapse. Despair took hold of her, and she fell to her knees. All that exertion from earlier caught up with her at once. Her limbs went slack at her side, and raising them became impossible. They were like lead. Eyelids growing heavy, her face planted on the ground with a dull thud.

As she lay there passing out, she rolled over just in time to see a dark, humanoid figure standing over her. It reached for her, and she couldn't so much as raise a hand in protest. That was the last thing she saw before everything went black.

.

.

.

.

Her heartbeat was slow, almost catatonic. It thundered in every direction, the first sensation she registered was its ceaseless drumbeat. The only sure sign that she was still alive.

When Courtney opened her eyes she wasn't on Wawanakwa, or Boney Island. It wasn't any place she'd ever been, too surreal to ever exist. A flat featureless plane she floated in, surrounded by purple, blue and red nebula clouds in every direction. Glowing multicolor tendrils sprawled across all of existence in every direction, taking the shape of endless tree roots.

There could be no doubt she was dreaming, but this was nothing like any dream Courtney ever had before. And she was lucid enough to be aware of that, or at least understand something was off and alien about this new dreamscape.

"Another…" A distant voice boomed. Deep and rumbling, it shook her bones. "There comes another…"

So maybe it was more of a nightmare. The voice, like the pulsing heartbeat in the background, seemed to come from everywhere. Just hearing it made Courtney want to wake. It didn't matter if she was literally dying in the conscious world, she felt trapped and helpless.

She tried swimming, flailing her arms and legs to propel her through the void. It did seem to work, she was moving, but at an agonizingly slow snail's pace.

Had there always been a massive purple ball of electricity hovering in front of her? She didn't think so, but everything was so foggy and surreal that maybe she only noticed it now. It crackled, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She watched it with rapt attention, eyes staring right into the white-hot glowing core as tendrils of voltage arced towards her.

Then an amorphous figure extended from it, a ghostly shape, shadowy in outline but blindingly bright. It had two 'eyes' made of inky black void, that stood out uncannily against the rest of its resplendent glowing body. It stared down at Courtney, tilting back and forth as if curious. Then it morphed into a pair of humanoid forms and the whole world flashed white. When it resolved again, Courtney was back at home, sitting at the dinner table with her parents.

Except not quite. She couldn't see their faces, it was just their shapes looming over her large. Despite being unable to see any expressions, she somehow sensed their stern and overbearing disapproval.

"So mediocre." A shrill imitation of her mother's voice crowed. It did not emanate from her mouth, or even where her mouth should have been, but like the last voice it came from everywhere. Just like her heartbeat, growing more rapid.

"Mediocre?" Courtney sputtered back. "B-but I'm doing great! I'm winning!"

"Dead on a beach." A gravelly, off-kilter imposter of her father's voice boomed. "No child of ours would ever."

"I-I'm not dead!" Courtney shrieked. Was this truly her dying vision, the last thing she saw before passing into the world beyond? She shook her head violently at the thought. "No no! Not dead! Just…need some rest! This is just a dream, I'm going to wake up, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to win."

The facsimiles of her family were heedless of her words and remained unmoving.

"Perhaps we should have adopted." The father propositioned.

"Or put her up for adoption." The mother cackled.

"No, no you're not real! You- no, they would never say that!" Courtney screamed, trying to back away. Her legs were like molasses, forcing her to stay at this wicked illusion of a family evening. They continued to laugh and chortle at her mockingly.

"Get out of my head!" She cried. "Get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my head! Get outgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetout!"

As her lungs felt like they were ready to burst, the whole room shook like it had been picked up by some giant hand. The roof tore off and in the void floating above it was a great orange fireball. The fraudulent imitations of her parents were sucked up into it, their laughter growing more deranged and maniacal as they grew closer towards annihilation. Then in a great flash they were incinerated by the blazing heat, and no longer tormented her.

The hoax shattered, Courtney stared at the fireball with a sense of awe and wonder. Rather than going away or changing into something bizarre and surreal, more details of it began to resolve themselves. Distinct flames began to lick at the air above it, while below the base solidified into a core of logs and branches.

It took her a while to realize that she was no longer dreaming. Maybe it was the heat from the real fire that tipped her off. Or maybe it was the way the fur sheets scratched at her face. Most of all, it was the pain that told her it was real. Her chest felt like it had been hit with a hammer, her arms and legs had needles in them, and her head was throbbing. She writhed on the sheets in pain, struggling to get it under control when she heard someone nearby stirring.

"Hey. You're finally awake."

It was definitely human and probably female, but beyond that Courtney hadn't the foggiest idea who it was. Not anyone she knew closely, that was for sure.

As she awakened, other sensations returned to her besides that raw, biting agony. Chiefly, her bodily sense of touch telling her that aside from the roll of fur swaddling her, that she was covered in exactly nothing.

That was enough to startle her to complete awareness. Being in a strange place, with a stranger and totally undressed was enough to set off all kinds of alarm bells in her head, and she clung her coverings tightly as she looked for her host.

"W-what the hell did you do to me? Where are you?" Courtney demanded.

Sitting on the opposite side of the fire, there they were. They looked about equal in height to her, and as they stood up the shape looked feminine enough. The relief she felt was miniscule. Every other girl she'd met here was duplicitous or crazy. She would not trust her life to half of them.

"Sheesh, not even a thank you for saving your ass?" The stranger asked, sounding very annoyed. "Getting out of wet clothes is like, majorly important to fight hypothermia. I would know haha, almost died from it once."

"Well, I'm not dying anymore so can I have my clothes back?" Courtney asked tersely.

The stranger came over towards her from the other side, and with her eyes adjusted now Courtney got her first good look at her supposed savior. She was thin, not in an unhealthy scrawny way, but rather lithe and limber. It reminded her of the gymnast kids Courtney knew back home. She had a long, scraggly blanket of red hair that exploded into curls in all directions. Clad in naught but a skirt made of a fish-skin patchwork and a billowing fur cape, the rest of her was painted in a myriad of occult runes, whose meaning Courtney couldn't even begin to fathom.

"Still drying over the fire, so you gotta wait." The stranger explained, sitting down next to Courtney at about arm's length.

Then it clicked, just as she was sitting up.

"You're that girl from the first day! I saved you from drowning!"

"Guess we're even now, haha." She laughed. "But you can just call me Izzy. Almost drowned girl is cool and pretty badass, but kinda a mouthful, yeah? Yeah."

"Well, thanks Izzy…I guess." Courtney said. "Do you have anything else I could wear? Preferably more covering than uh…" She stuck a hand out of her blankets to vaguely gesture at all of Izzy in her indecency.

"Yeah yeah yeah, sure, whatever." Izzy shrugged. "I think I have a deer skin dress somewhere. I'll get Mrs. Cranium too, she's been dying to meet you!"

"Who?" Courtney asked. Izzy just got down and all fours and darted away like some kind of wild animal.

The solitude gave her a chance to take in her surroundings. She was in some kind of cave, and from the looks of it Izzy had disappeared into a passage that led further inside. The ceiling was just tall enough to stand under, if one watched their head carefully for the small stalactites hanging down. Across from the fire on the opposite wall there was a wood panel, through which light trickled into the cave. A door, perhaps?

Courtney briefly considered making a run for it, before deciding against it. Izzy was crazy and deranged, but from the brief time she'd known her she was mostly harmless. Besides, she still needed that dress. There were cameras out there, and she wasn't handing the tabloids a free streaking scandal if she could help it!

Izzy came back with the promised dress and some footwear, which she tossed to Courtney. Just as she said, it was made of raw deer hide, line with the fur of some other animal stitched to the inside. Probably rabbit, given how soft it felt when she slipped into it. Shockingly, it fit her really well. Far better than anything stitched together in a cave had any right to. The boots, which were likewise handmade, went on without much of a fuss either.

She tried not to think too hard about the origins of the clothes, but the spears, bow and arrows laying in the corner were enough of a hint.

Under Izzy's other arm however, was something even weirder. A whole intact bear skull, with a pink bow- the decorative kind, not the shooting kind- glue to the top.

"Mrs. Cranium, I'd like you to meet Courtney." Izzy said. Courtney looked around for who she was talking to, but saw nobody else enter the room. And Izzy was holding out that skull towards her, almost like it was-

Oh. No.

"Is…is that Mrs. Cranium?" Courtney asked hesitantly.

"Yup!" Izzy nodded. "Say hi to Courtney!"

The lifeless skull remained completely silent, but Izzy perked up, raising an eyebrow as if it were expressing something most unusual.

"Wow, Mrs. Cranium really likes you! She's not usually so friendly with newcomers. Then again, most of our newcomers are rats haha. Sometimes possums, and if you're really lucky it's a raccoon. That's a new pair of boots and some stew right there!"

"Gee, I feel so very appreciated by the warm welcome." Courtney forced out the most fake and pathetic laugh of her life. "Speaking of food, I'm starving. Would you happen to have some?"

The response to that was for Izzy to toss a bowl into her lap, with strips of dry meat and pieces of a nut that Courtney couldn't recognize. "Eat up, we're gonna have a long day. I'm all outta paint and we gotta get more for tonight or we are boned."

"Paint?" Courted asked as she took her first few tentative nibbles of the meat. Shockingly, it was more tender and succulent than anything Chef had ever served her for a regular meal. The nuts were, unsurprisingly, crunchy. They reminded her of walnuts, but sweeter and more mild, and in chunks that indicated a nut of stupendous size when it had been whole.

"Oh yeah. See this island has like, major bad juju. There's this guardian spirit thing yeah? And these runes keep him from coming at night to steal your soul." Izzy gestured to the markings on her face. "The parts I need to make the paint are all over the island. We're short three things right now to make a full batch, so hurry up with that brekkie."

Courtney was utterly speechless. She'd been rescued by a complete lunatic, totally unhinged from reality. Once again the urge to escape seriously weighed on her mind. Someone this deranged was bound to have a psychotic break sooner or later. Though, she very well may have been in the middle of one, based on what she'd seen so far.

Then again, she was clearly capable of survival. She'd made her own clothes, however tacky and crude, and served her food that was edible. Assuming that Izzy didn't snap and try to make a coat out of her, she could potentially keep Courtney alive long enough for rescue to arrive.

For now, she decided to stay. Courtney ate the rest of her breakfast as quickly as she could. The fire had died down to a bed of embers since she awoke, and now Izzy carefully doused them with water so that they would not return to the shelter to find it ablaze. Though the cave itself was inflammable stone, Izzy's residence had filled it with flammable firewood, cooking fats, wooden tools, and straw woven baskets used to hold them. All of which might catch afire from a stray ember.

Breakfast was filling enough that Courtney's belly ceased aching. She spent the next few minutes standing up and testing her strength while Izzy packed. Though she remained sore from last night, everything moved like it was supposed to. She had no broken bones as far as she could tell, and none of the pain was severe enough to stop her.

Izzy slung a quiver of arrows over her shoulder and picked up a bow and spear. From her pile of weapons she pulled out and ax, offering it to Courtney. Unlike the rest of her tools, this one was modern, not handmade in the woods. It had a black rubber handle and an orange head. Short, it balanced well in her hand as Courtney tentatively accepted it. At least if Izzy decided to go crazy and eat her she could fight back now.

"You're not seriously going out there without a shirt, are you?" Courtney asked.

"You're not seriously going to be such a prude the whole time, are you?" Izzy echoed mockingly.

"Fine. But when your pictures end up in the newspapers for indecent exposure, don't come crying to me to represent you in court." Courtney rolled her eyes.

The first thing Beth felt when she woke up was the hard steel of a fridge beneath her. She rolled over, and light streamed down onto her face from the roof. That couldn't be right though, because that was definitely a door frame she was looking at. Sitting up, Beth looked back at the fridge and saw it hadn't fallen onto the floor. It remained bolted to the wall where it belonged, alongside the countertops, stove and other kitchen accouterments. It was the wall itself that had been turned over and made into the floor, with the opposite wall now serving as the ceiling.

Memories of last night surged to the forefront of her mind. She and Gwen had been separated from the others in the storm. They'd found shelter in a trailer, but no sooner had they gotten inside did a flash flood sweep across he campgrounds. So powerful it was that the whole trailer was swept into the lake, where thankfully it proved buoyant like a boat. Beth didn't remember passing out, but at some point she must have. The last thing she could remember before waking up was being tossed around the interior of the trailer like a ragdoll as it pitched and rolled violently in storm swells.

Now, all the contents of the trailer that weren't nailed down had fallen into heaps on the bottom wall. They weren't rocking and swaying anymore, so Beth could only assume they'd washed ashore somewhere.

"Gwen? Are you still here?" She called, carefully putting one foot down on the wall-floor to test it. It seemed to hold her weight well enough, and one step at a time she began to crawl through the overturned trailer to find her friend.

In the far corner at the back of the trailer, a pale hand clued her in. A mattress and a couple chairs had piled into a stack with Gwen sat firmly at the bottom.

"Oh my god!" Beth screamed, crossing the distance to her as fast as she dared. She tossed the chairs aside, flipped the mattress end over end to free Gwen from it.

That Gwen looked unharmed beneath all the rubbled was the first good sign. The second was that she rolled over towards Beth, rubbing her eyes and flickering them open. On seeing her, Gwen offered a smile.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" She chuckled weakly.

Beth offered a hand to help her up, which Gwen graciously accepted.

"Are you okay? Nothing broken?" Beth asked anxiously.

To answer that question, Gwen gave each of her arms and legs a good stretch.

"Not yet." Gwen replied. "Where are we?"

"No clue." Beth shrugged. She looked around the trailer for a way out, and noticed that one of the windows, which was now on the floor, had her crowbar speared right through it. Beth crawled to it and, placing her feet firmly on either side of the window frame, pulled it out. The metal scraped loudly against the glass shards, and she gently shook off any residual pieces that might have stuck to it before she pulled it up into a good, firm grip.

"Nice. Now you have to call it Excalibur." Gwen joked.

"Hey, that does sound kinda cool." Beth agreed. "Wait, no. I have a better idea. Excali-bar."

Gwen groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Oh my god, that was baaaad." She then added reluctantly. "But it kinda works. Anyways, let's get out of here."

"Right." Beth said. "These trailers usually have a sun roof. If we can find it, that could be our door."

They found it without much trouble, an opening about a meter across on each side. Plenty large enough for them to get through. With her trusty crowbar in hand, Beth pried it open, the lock snapping off with a loud pop.

Emerging from the hatch onto a beach, it didn't take long to realize where they were. That looming rocky edifice in the distance was hard to forget. Anything the size of a small skyscraper shaped like a giant skull was pretty memorable, and there it was. Judging by the angle and distance, they'd washed up a ways away from the Southern shore that they'd landed on for the challenges that took place on Boney Island. That made this uncharted territory.

"Well this isn't too bad." Beth said. "We're pretty close to camp. If we stay put, Chris is bound to send someone to rescue us…right?"

"Yeah. I don't see any reason to move." Gwen nodded. "They need us if they wanna finish filming their shitty reality TV."

The weather had begun to clear up for the first time in over a week, and they were treated to glimpses of blue sky between wispy white clouds overhead. There was not a hint of rain on the horizon, and they could even see a little sunlight peeking through and reaching the ground in places. The wait for rescue promised to be much more pleasant than the arrival to the island.

As silence began to settle in, some unnatural sound caught their attention, rising just enough above the burbling of lake water to be heard. It was a sharp clattering, that came and went in erratic beats. At first they thought it might be a bird call, but the longer they listened the less likely it seemed.

"You hear that?" Beth whispered to Gwen.

"Yeah I hear it." Gwen nodded. "Wanna check it out?"

"We probably should." Beth nodded. "Could be one of the others."

Now Gwen looked suddenly hesitant. "Maybe we should stay here. Don't wanna get lost."

"Gwen." Beth chided. "I know you're not like, best friends with them or anything but we should still try to help anyone we can."

"Fine." Gwen sighed. "Let's go take a look."

Following the sound led them towards the tree line. Shortly beyond it was a small clearing wrapped around a pond, and on the opposite side of which lay a large rocky overhang. The sound emanated from it like a speaker, and as they got closer they could see someone huddling under there.

Even from a distance, everything about her was instantly and dreadfully recognizable to Beth and Gwen. Once they were around the pond and nearly at the overhang, their first impression was proven correct. Heather was hunched over a motley pile of sticks and leaves, frantically banging them together. Was she trying to start a fire?

She sure looked like she needed one. Soaking wet and shivering, her gaze snapped upwards towards the two interlopers as they approached. Heather snarled angrily at them, like a cornered animal.

"Great. Come here to make fun of my lame fire starting? Gonna watch me freeze to death and laugh?" She spat. "Do your worst."

"Wow. You look seriously rough." Gwen said. Not mocking or condescending, just a matter of fact tone that conveyed the slightest sense of pity.

For Beth, it was a surreal thing to see. Someone she had once admired, feared and respected, who she been terrified to ever speak up to, was now a complete wreck. Heather looked vulnerable, feeble, even a bit terrified. Though her expression tried to look fierce and aggressive, there was unmistakable terror in her eyes. She was in a strange place and struggling to survive.

Beth was the first to approach her closely, to within arm's reach. She offered out a hand.

"Can I see those rocks?"

She didn't expect Heather to say yes. Indeed, when her former ruler looked up at her it was with a burning contempt that told her to go screw off. But Beth wasn't going to let a mean look turn her away- if Heather wanted to tell her to get lost she could say it to her face.

Then, without a word said, Heather took her rocks and slapped them into Beth's outstretched hand. She had to do a double take to make sure it was real, before raising it her eye for inspection.

It was made of sandstone, judging from the texture and shape. Which meant that, no matter how hard Heather tried banging them together, they would never produce spark and give her the gift of fire's warmth. She was completely helpless here.

"Well?" Heather asked, expectantly.

"These aren't going to help you." Beth tossed the rocks on the ground. "But I will."

"Oh please, spare me the holier than thou, I'm so mature act." Heather rolled her eyes. "If you think you can twist my arm into an alliance-"

"If you want to freeze your butt to death because your head's so full of mind games you can't think about staying alive for one second, go ahead." Beth cut her off. "I'll help you if you let me, but if you're gonna be a bitch about it then we'll just wait for rescue all by ourselves."

It silenced Heather in a way no insult or accusation ever could. Someone was offering to help her, and the only strings attached was that there would be no strings attached. She chewed her bottom lip anxiously, trying to look like she was seriously considering her options. It was a futile effort to save face. She had no options and they all knew it.

"Fine." Heather sighed. "So what's the plan?"

Beth blanked out, and she turned to Gwen. "Uh, what is our plan?"

"I don't know. I thought you'd have one since you were in girl scouts? Don't they teach you fire starting in that?" Gwen asked.

"Yeah, but everything's all wet and rained on, it's gonna be tough." Beth said.

"Wait, the trailer." Gwen pointed out. "Didn't it have a stove? If that still works we could use that to light some tinder and get a head start."

"You guys brought a trailer to the island?" Heather said. "Wow, I always knew you were white trash but this is ridiculous."

"Shut up." Beth and Gwen said in complete incidental unison.

A short walk to the beach later and Beth was back in the trailer. The stovetop lit and burned its hot blue propane flame without much trouble, and with it they were able to light a bundle of pine needles. That was tossed onto a waiting pile of timber, carefully selected from the driest samples available within a few minutes of the beach.

While Beth tended to the fire, Gwen rummaged through the trailer. Heather had been her mortal enemy since…well, as far back she could remember. She had been trading dirty looks and taking mean snipes from her since the first day on the island. Some part of helping her felt wrong. Heather didn't deserve this, she deserved to suffer in solitude for her litany of crimes.

Still, Gwen put in a sincere effort to find a towel. The idea of cruelty being visited upon Heather by some indirect, karmic means sounded deeply satisfying in her head, but being the one to do it to her made Gwen uncomfortable. Now that she was at rock bottom, it felt dirty to kick her while she was down.

Once she'd found the towel she stepped back out onto the beach, tossing it to Heather without a word. She accepted, again not saying anything. Everything was awkwardly quiet. Gwen and Beth weren't exactly comfortable having a casual conversation around Heather, and Heather knew she had to shut up to keep receiving assistance. It was a mutually tense relationship.

Then a shadow passed over the beach. The first time, they hardly noticed it, but on the second pass Beth realized something was up. She turned her head skywards, and there was the unmistakable great wingspan of a Stymphalian Goose soaring overhead. On the third pass it came back around towards them, and started circling, slowly spiraling down towards them.

"What's it doing?" Beth asked out loud.

"Don't look at me, I don't birdwatch." Gwen replied.

"Ugh, you two are such lousy ornithologists." Heather scoffed. "It better not be coming to eat us, I am too young and beautiful to be mauled by a giant bird."

The slow, lazy approach made Beth doubt that its intentions were predatory. She pulled her crowbar into a ready to strike position, just in case she was wrong.

The goose landed besides them a few feet away, then began to trumpet at them. Heather and Gwen jumped back, startled, while Beth held her ground and watched the bird carefully, looking for any signs of an attack.

Rather than advance towards her or make any aggressive movements however, it stayed where it was, continuing the same repertoire of calls, beating its wings occasionally as if for emphasis. The more she listened, the more she noticed how different it was to the calls that goose on the cliff had used to warn them off when they got near its nest. So this wasn't some territorial warning call, what was it?

It then turned around and ran up the beach a distance, then stopped, turned back towards them, and beat its wings frantically. A light clicked on in Beth's head.

"I think it wants us to follow."

"That's ridiculous." Heather rolled her eyes. "What could it possibly want from us? Bread?"

"I don't think so, they're carnivores remember?" Beth replied blithely. "It must be really important, you saw how much they don't want people messing with them."

"I could pack us some food." Gwen suggested. "There's some sweaters in the trailer we could tie into sacks."

"You're not seriously thinking of going along with Doctor Dolittle wannabe's plan?" Heather asked, incredulous.

"I'd rather trust the bird for directions than you." Gwen said, already crawling into the trailer to begin packing food for the journey ahead.

"I guess we're doing this." Beth grinned excited. "This is so cool, I feel so in touch with nature already."

"Yay." Heather faux-cheered. "You're like the Lorax, except even shorter, rounder and vision-impaired."

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that." Beth said.

They had no idea what the bird wanted or how far away it was, so Gwen packed expecting to spend the whole day in the woods. Anything that looked dry and capable of keeping well was packed. Crackers, nuts, fruit, plus some bottled waters to stay hydrated with. They found some matches in one of the drawers that had fallen out during the rollover.

While they prepared, the bird flew up and landed on top of the trailer, and they could hear it waddling back and forth anxiously waiting for them to get going.

Of all the things that Courney had ever done, romping around the woods dressed as a cave woman while Izzy dug through the bushes for rare plants like a hyperactive raccoon had to be at least in the top ten craziest.

"So, Izzy." Courtney cleared her throat, trying to think of something to say so that she could keep her mind off the absurdity. "How'd you end up on this island, anyways?"

"Oh it is a totally crazy story, I'm glad you asked." Izzy replied.

Already, Courtney was beginning to regret that she did. At least it would be better than dead air.

"So like, after I get kicked off we get sent to this cool swanky resort where they got us on lockdown until the end of the season so we don't go home and like, spoil the elimination for everyone, right? Oh by the way we're not legally allowed to tell you that exists so don't mention it on camera or Chris will probably send hitman after you to silence any witnesses. Or just kick you off. Yeah, that one's probably more likely."

"Ooooooooookay, so, moving on, what happened there?" Courtney asked.

"Right, so I'm out pretty early and there's not a lot of people when I get there. Justin is a total weenie, and Zeke is funny but in a haha this guy is such a weirdo, how is he even real, way. But then I get to meeting Duncan and man, we hit it off. He likes knives, I like knives, he likes arson, I love love love arson! We start hanging out and soon it's like, this whole thing. We're getting freaky in the dressing room by night, and trading shoplifting stories by day, it is awesome."

"Shoplifting is not awesome, it's reprehensible." Courtney protested. "All the losses end up coming out of the employees wellbeing!"

"Don't be such a wet blanket, theft is cool." Izzy said. "Anywho, we basically ruled that place, me and Duncan. We picked up Eva too, she's total bad bitch, but in like the cool way, and we were like this crew. Everyone was totally scared of us and it was awesome."

"Sounds a lot like bullying to me." Courtney frowned.

"Ugh, you are the biggest buzzkill I have ever met, and this island has some seriously big bees on it." Izzy said. "We never hurt anybody, just scared them. Except that guy with the glasses- Harold! He wouldn't stop leaving his dirty laundry all over the place and we had to set the record straight."

That made Courtney start to seriously reconsider her anti-bullying stance. Well, maybe not completely seriously, but she did give it some thought.

"What happened then?"

"Okay like, it's been a few weeks since me and Duncan started getting down and things are cool right? Then one day, like, totally randomly, out of the blue, he comes up to me and is like, Izzy, we need to talk. Izzy, you're being too clingy. Izzy, you tried to break Sadie's arm for checking me out. Izzy, I think we should take a break." She threw up mocking air quotes in front of each 'Izzy' statement, her voice changing to a low pitch as if trying to mimic Duncan's. Courtney didn't remember much of him but she was pretty sure he didn't sound at all like that.

"I was like, so pissed off it was unreal. So then I stabbed him twenty-seven times in the chest while he was asleep, and now I'm hiding on this island until the heat from the RCMP dies now."

"What the hell?" Courtney gasped.

"-is what I would say, if I actually did it." Izzy laughed. "Instead of stabbing him, I decided to spend a week in the woods to find myself….aaaaaand avoid doing anything rashly that might have lifelong criminal charges attached. Hehe."

It was hard to tell what was sincere insane ramblings and what was just Izzy's twisted idea of humor. It would probably be for the best that Courtney just keep the conversation flowing and not dwell too much on any part of it.

"So you left to go be in the woods and ended up coming here?" She asked.

"No, no, not yet! We're getting there, hold onto your horses. While I was in the woods, I met Mrs. Cranium!" She held up the skull as if it were going to start telling her the rest of the story. "And she told me things! When she was alive she used to swim out to Boney Island and talk to the spirits there! She told me I had to come here, and hey, it got me away from Duncan so like yeah! Sure, I'll give it a shot."

Well, that settled it. Courtney's bad dream had been a result of Izzy's hallucinogenic mushrooms getting mixed into the fire, and she had breathed it in. That was the only explanation she could think of for any person saying this level of nonsense with a straight face. Izzy had to be, as some might say, tripping balls.

"So that's it? You've been living on this crazy prehistoric death island for weeks because some bones told you to?"

"Not all the time." Izzy shook her head. "I sneak back to Wawanakwa for supplies sometimes. Mostly matches. I'm not that savage."

Silently, Courtney prayed they would find some rare flower or moss that Izzy could distract herself collecting. That silence would prove crucial, as it gave her a chance to listen, and notice another voice coming from the depths of the forest.

"You hear that?" Courtney whispered.

"Hear what?" Izzy asked.

"Sounds like someone's out there." Courtney paused and held a hand up to her ear. Sure enough, the distant cry for help was there. "Listen, there's that voice again."

"That's nothing special." Izzy rolled her eyes. "I hear voices all the time."

"Come on, let's go!"

She set off into the woods in the direction of the voices, with Izzy close behind her. As she closed in on the source it became louder and clearer, until she could finally make out the words.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeelp! Heeeeelp! I'm seriously stuck dudes! Anyone! Chris man, you gotta get me out of here!"

Courtney would recognize that voice anywhere, and her brisk walk turned into a full sprint. She crashed through branches, bushes and fern fronds, slapping them out of the way.

She skidded to a halt as she broke into the clearing. Geoff's pink shirt stood out vividly against the green of the forest, and the brown of the quicksand he was waist-deep in. Without thinking she rushed in to pull him out. That this might not be the wisest idea only occurred to her when she plunged knee-deep into the very same quicksand that had trapped him.

"Ah crud." She winced. Trying to wiggle herself out only got caused her to sink deeper into the sand, but as long as she stayed still she remained exactly where she was.

"Yo! Courtney!" Geoff looked unapologetically delighted to see her. "Glad you could make it. I was wondering where you peeps went."

"How'd you get here?" Courtney asked.

"Oh man, it was crazy. When the rain started coming down, I hopped in the confessional to wait it out. Then the whole thing turned over and I hit my head. Next thing I know I wake up on this island."

"Not here, here. How'd you get in this quicksand? What were you thinking?"

"Oh that. Yeah I was looking for you guys, when I woke up and nobody else was there I started getting seriously worried."

"Gee, that's sweet. Maybe next time look for quicksand too."

Just then, Izzy entered the clearing, and saw the predicament that Geoff and Courtney had landed themselves in. Instead of rushing in, she circled the sand pit, poking the ground with her spear to determine the extent of the danger. Courtney could only watch, helpless.

"Well well well." Izzy wagged her spear at them like a giant finger, "Looks like you guys are in a sticky situation."

It was all Courtney could do to keep her composure. They were in a life and death situation, and here Izzy was making stupid jokes. "Haha, you're very funny." She forced out some flattery. "Now get us out of here!"

"Yo, Izzy!" Geoff waved, his male monkey brain noticing one thing in particular immediately. "Wow. Nice boobs."

Courtney smacked him in the back of the head. "They're not nice, they're indecent! Plus, what would Bridgette think if she saw you ogling other girls?"

"Oh crud." Geoff said. "Uh, well obviously hers are way nicer, bigger, better in every way really, so it's okay right?"

"You saw Bridgette's boobs?" Izzy asked as she chopped a vine off a nearby tree and handed it to Geoff. "Nice. You two get up to some fun?"

"We-"

"Don't want to talk about it." Courtney cut him off.

"But I thought girls were all cool talking about that stuff." Geoff asked as he hauled himself out of the sand pit. Still annoyed at him, Courtney grabbed onto his waist and pouted the whole way out.

"Some girls are." She said as she sat down on dry land once again, brushing the sand off her legs. "I prefer to keep my intimate life private, and I would appreciate if the people around me kept theirs private as well."

"Which is lame." Izzy said. "Come on, off your butts. We've got a long ways to go."

Across the island, things had gone a lot more smoothly for Beth's group, insofar as they had avoided quicksand up to this point. The bird hopped from tree branch to tree branch above their heads, and they followed close behind. Every few hundred paces, Beth notched the nearest tree on her right with her crowbar, providing a marker for where they had been should they need to turn back.

Their path now took them to a bowl-shaped low spot in the terrain, the far side being a shallow rocky slope littered with huge glacial boulders. The goose then guided them to the entrance of a rocky passageway that lay nestled in between several of the large rocks, hidden from view until they were almost upon it.

Beth tentatively held her torch to the entrance. The glimmering film of water reflected the flickering firelight, illuminating the long winding passage within. The bird landed next to them, pointing towards that gateway into the underbelly of the earth with its beak.

"I think it wants us to go inside." Beth said.

"Ugh, I knew it was a trap." Heather said. "There's probably some giant prehistoric monster waiting there to eat us, and this bird just wants to get the scraps." She pointed upwards. "There's a perfectly good hill up there, and I'd rather cross that."

Indeed, looming over the small depression in the ground was a low hill, which the passageway seemed to run underneath, from what they could see on the surface.

"I don't know Heather." Gwen warned. "I don't think a huge monster could fit in here. It's probably okay."

"If you two want to be T. Rex food, fine. I'm going the safe way."

Heather began the trek upwards, pulling herself over large boulders and scaling narrow ledges to get up. When the goose saw where she was heading it took off and began circling over her, belting out squawks that sounded like some kind of distress call.

"Ugh, screw off tweety." Heather balked as she kept climbing.

When she reached the top she was rewarded with an incredible sight. The trees were ensnared in sprawling vines, from which blossomed a dazzling assortment of blue flowers. There must have been dozens- no, hundreds of them, stretching skywards with the trees they occupied.

She was so busy taking in the scene that Heather didn't even notice the bird peel off and fly away. That was the first sign of trouble that she missed. The air around her was filled with a low, almost imperceptible humming. She felt it, more than she actually heard it.

As she walked through the wonderful gallery of natural beauty, she noticed a few bees hovering through the air between the flowers. Nothing odd by itself, but when she looked around for a hive in the trees so that she could avoid them, she didn't see any. Whatever, they probably came from far away. She probably had nothing to worry about.

"Come on you two, get up here so we can get this stupid quest over with!" Heather called back to the Gwen and Beth. As much as she would like to ditch them, they knew where they were going more than she did.

Further into the grove however, there was a change in that humming in the background. It wasn't just coming from the air, now it emanated from the ground beneath her feet. She stopped and started thinking about turning back. Something wasn't right, her common sense was yelling at her to get the hell out. But her pride demanded that she commit to her error, something that she felt compelled to double down on as Gwen, Beth and the bird crested over the hill behind her.

Heather's next few steps felt wrong, the ground felt spongy and like it was bending beneath her feet. The humming grew louder and started turning into an angry buzz. Belatedly Heather finally caved and decided to turn around.

It was too late. Her foot plunged through the fragile roof she was standing on. Large chunks of dirt caved in around it, to reveal a swarming hive of bees underneath. The smell of honey and the sound of a thousand angry wings burst forth, and Heather scrambled to pull her foot out. Dark red bees the size of her thumb assaulted her with stings, and the moment she was back on her feet she dashed back towards the bottom of the hill.

She had come face to face with the reason Boney Island had no ants living on it. While most ground living bees were solitary burrowers, these ones built hives just as vast and complicated in the depths of the loamy soil, and were more than capable of devouring and destroying the hives of any invasive ant species. They were just as ruthless when dealing with larger intruders, as Heather was discovering in the most painful and direct way possible right now.

"Bees! Bees!" Heather screamed. Beth and Gwen had arrived just in time to see Heather running towards them with a large, angry red cloud in hot pursuit.

They descended back down the slope as fast as they dared. Heather alternated between swatting away the stinging insects from her beautiful face and using those hands to clamber down boulders and ledges. Gwen and Beth stayed right ahead of her, not wanting to be caught in the swarm themselves.

At the bottom of the hill they scrambled for the cave entrance. Beth was first in, and Gwen tossed her bag of supplies into Beth's arms before sliding butt-first after her. Heather stumbled through, fighting off the last few attackers who were willing to dare going near the cave entrance. The bees didn't follow her in very far, and the last of them fled very shortly afterwards. The goose then joined them and hopped to the front of the formation. Though its stiff beak and beady black eyes seemed outwardly expressionless, the way it stared at her still managed to convey a sense of judgment.

"Fine." Heather huffed. "We'll do it your way."

Now that everyone was in agreement, whether they wanted to be or not, they began their journey into the cave.

On the surface, Courtney and Geoff were now both following Izzy as she made her way through the woods gathering ingredients. They'd gotten out of the quicksand without much fuss, and there was nothing more Courtney wanted than to leave that behind them and get this crazy day over with.

Their journey had now led them to the banks of a winding river, still overflowing from the previous week of rain that had pummeled the island.

"So Izzy," Geoff said. "What's the big deal with this evil spirit you were talking about earlier?"

"Guardian spirit." Izzy corrected. "It's not evil, just…territorial. Mrs. Cranium says that long, long ago, before man invaded this land, there were the monkey people who called it home."

"Oh my god Izzy." Courtney gasped. "You can't call natives monkey people, that's so racist and insensitive."

"No, not like those tribes. I know the difference, I'm part Cherokee you know." Izzy rolled her eyes. "I'm talking long tails, thick fur, swinging from trees kind of monkeys. They came here in the deep past, millions of moons ago. They worship the spirit and it keeps them safe from outsiders."

"How does it do that?" Geoff asked. "Does it like, just scare them off, or…"

"Geoff, have you ever seen the first Indiana Jones movie?" Izzy asked.

"Oh totally, that movie rocks."

"Remember the part at the end where they open the box?"

"Yeah, and all those Russian dudes get their faces get melted off. That was sick." Geoff laughed. Then his brain caught up and made the connection, and he wasn't laughing anymore. "Oh crud."

"Haha yep, so if we don't get this paint mixed up by tonight you can kiss that mug of yours goodbye." Izzy said.

"Don't let her pull your leg like this Geoff." Courtney told him. "She's just messing with us."

"Hey, if you don't want any it's your funeral." Izzy shrugged. "What do you think happened to those hikers? Or those guys who were on that wrecked ship?"

"Hikers?" Courtney raised a brow.

"Yeah this place is littered with dead hikers." Izzy said. "The spirit came and harvested their souls!"

"That is such childish nonsense." Courtney said. "If these so-called monkey people are real as you say, they probably just killed the hikers for intruding on their territory."

"Oh no, they'd never." Izzy shook her head. "They're a bunch of big scaredy cats that avoid people. Like nerds, but without the glasses. Heck, they don't even hunt, they just fish and forage for berries."

"Man, I always though the sasquatch would be a lot more badass." Geoff said. "Monkey pescatarians is kinda lame."

"If you think they're lame, wait until you see the Hunter." Izzy said.

"I thought you just said they didn't hunt." Courtney said.

"Well this one does." Izzy said. "He's the only one I've ever seen go for the big game on the island. Mrs. Cranium says that when he was very young he was swept away from Boney Island in a flood, and survived on his own as a kid in the world of man. That's where he learned to hunt and fight to survive."

"Or maybe he's just a psychotic lunatic who lives in the woods and kills stuff for fun." Courtney said.

"Like you!" Geoff interjected, gesturing to Izzy. "No offense."

"None taken."

They came around a bend in the river, and the rushing water came to a near standstill as it transitioned into a sheltered lagoon. The reason for this sudden transition was small, brown and fuzzy, and could be seen all up and down the shoreline. This was the home of several beaver families, who were hard at work repairing all the damage done to their dams in the storm.

It wasn't just the ordinary beavers that called this pond home. Castoroides, the giant beavers that had made such an impression on the first visit to Boney Island, shared the pond side by side with their much smaller cousins. Some were even using their great strength to help shore up the dams and lodges with fallen trees and heavy logs. The giant beavers never built such things, they didn't need lodges to hide from predators as they could defend themselves on open ground quite adeptly. However, they were dependent on the wetlands created by beaver dams, and the many plants which would only grow in standing water they provided. Prosperity for the smaller species of beavers helped keep Castoroides alive, and so they pitched in wherever they could for their little friends.

Not all the giant beavers were being such generous neighbors. A few lazed on the shore for some rest after eating. Surrounding them were flocks of killdeer, a common plover bird found throughout all of the US and Canada. About the size of a robin or a bluejay, they swarmed the Castoroides as they lounged, picking through their fur for aquatic parasites that liked to latch on.

This thriving community had plenty of ingredients just waiting for Izzy to gather. By the shore she chopped off cattails and stuffed her bag with them, and from the ground she plucked feathers from the circling killdeer.

With the adult Castoroides were their babies, who chased and tried to play with the normal beavers as they worked. Only a few weeks old, these infants rivaled in size the largest adults of the other beavers, who seemed none too happy about the colossal babies heckling them while they did serious work. When the humans came through however, the young beavers had enough sense to waddle back to their parents as fast as possible. For their part, the adult castoroides were alert and aware of the Izzy, Courtney and Geoff, but not hostile yet.

Izzy was very careful to maintain her distance, watching the beavers carefully. A pair split off from the main group and headed into the woods, and she quietly slipped in behind them. The castoroides led them to a small grove overlooked by a towering rocky ridge. The stone face was chipped and roughly worn, almost as if it were built of LEGO blocks which had been gnawed on by a toddler.

The beavers stood up on their hind limbs, climbing up the rock wall to access the freshest, newly exposed material. Using their icepick sized incisors they broke large chunks off the side, breaking it into small manageable pieces that they then swallowed. Many of the water plants that they ate were mildly toxic, and the rocks in question were a special type of clay that helped to neutralize many of the toxins in their stomachs.

Crumbs of their earthy meal tumbled down the slope, and Izzy quietly collected them into one of her jars while the beavers were busy munching. Courtney was ready to bolt, always keeping at least one eye on the very dangerous wild animals that Izzy ventured alarmingly close to. That she walked away with a full jar of clay and no harm done was nothing short of a miracle.

"I hope the next ingredient isn't so dangerous to get." She muttered as they moved to a safe distance.

"Well." Izzy said. "It doesn't involve more beavers, if that's what you're asking."

While Courtney navigated the dangers of the surface, Beth's party was led into an incredible world that had lurked unseen beneath their feet. Beyond twisty and winding passageways, the cave opened up into huge high ceiling chambers, with vast rows of stalactites lining them and glassy still pools of water below. In this dim, dark world, the torchlight they carried inside with them was their only way to see forward and keep track of their feathered guide.

Indeed, the goose navigated the chamber with an almost uncanny ease. How had a daytime predator of the open skies come to know its way through a deep underground chamber?

"If we die in this cave I am making Christmas dinner out of idiot bird here." Heather grumbled.

"You know, maybe it's a bit rude to keep calling him bird." Beth said. "We should give him a name."

"What about Rodan?" Gwen suggested.

"That is the lamest name I have ever heard." Heather said. "It totally sounds like something one of those Klingons from Star Wars would be called."

"Oh come on." Gwen said. "Beth, back me up, Rodan sounds cool, right?"

"Uuuuh, it's kinda weird. I hate to say it but, Heather's right. I could totally see Janeway meeting a Klingon Captain named Rodan, y'know, if they ever made a sequel set in the Alpha quadrant. Or maybe if a bird-of-prey got lost in the Delta quadrant in a separate incident…" Beth stopped as realized that now both Heather and Gwen were giving her weird looks. "...anyways, I was thinking something more friendly sounding like….Marlin."

"At least that almost sounds like a real name." Heather said.

"Fine I guess we can go with Marlin." Gwen sighed, looking at the goose. "Well Marlin, where to next?"

The answer to that was, apparently, another large cave chamber. This one however was much better lit, as a consequence of the many holes along the roof that allowed light from the surface to peek through. It seemed they were close to the exit after all.

"I'm starving, let's grab something to eat."

"Fine." Heather said. "If you wimps wanna stop and waste some time because you have a little bellyache, go ahead. I don't need it."

It was a total lie. Heather huddled in the corner, writhing in pain as she scratched her bee stings. The whole time they'd been down there she hadn't asked for help with them. Back when she was still Heather's lackey, she demanded that Beth tend to every minor ache and inconvenience that befell her.

The situation reminded Beth of some offhand comment Heather had made in those days. It was some lazy between challenges day early on in the game. When Heather had come up short one hairbrush Beth had suggested she borrow one from Leshawna. Heather told her that you never, ever borrowed from your enemies, your equals, or your betters. Only the people below you could be trusted to give you anything without expecting something in turn.

She and Lindsay then spent the whole day tirelessly scouring the campgrounds for Heather's missing hairbrush. After turning up lots of nothing, she finally gave up and snuck into the Bass cabin to ask Katie and Sadie for one of theirs to appease her overlord. Not only had they given it to her, they never asked for anything in return for it. In fact, Beth was pretty sure that Heather still had that brush somewhere in her bags. It seemed so ridiculous, how obvious Heather's lies were in hindsight.

Now she munched on a bag of trail mix with Gwen, reminiscing on those bygone times side by side with someone she wouldn't be caught dead with back then. As she wandered through the memories her eyes turned towards the ceiling, and after minutes of staring something about it looked off. At first she thought it was just pretty patterns on the rock reflecting in weird ways, but as she peered into the darkness and her eyes adjusted to the light levels it became apparent that the ceiling was in fact, moving.

She tossed a walnut up to see what would happen, and a dozen or so bats burst from the ceiling. Startled, they belted out a chorus of calls, trying to echolocate whatever had just disturbed them. These were big brown bats, Canada's most numerous and widespread bat species, and its largest as well. Voracious insectivores, the hundreds of bats lining the roof of the caves made it a safe haven from the swarms of bugs on the surface. From the remote Boney Island, to the busy streets of Toronto and the vast plains of Alberta, they perhaps did more than any other flying animal in Canada to prevent bug bites.

"Gah! Get them away from me!" Heather covered her head. "Creepy flying rats."

"Hey, lay off them." Gwen said. "Bats are like, some of the coolest animals, period. I have this wicked bat-winged sweater at home. Kinda wish I brought it so I could match these cool dudes." She gestured up to the rest of the colony.

"That sounds like the tackiest piece of junk I had ever heard of." Heather rolled her eyes. "Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes, in fact. Yes I did." Gwen nodded proudly.

As some of the bats passed low overhead, Marlin perked up. He extended his wings into a take-off position, curling up his neck like a cobra ready to strike. Then as one of the bats flew past him, he lurched into the air and snapped his beak, catching the tiny flying mammal in his massive, tooth-lined jaws. The distressed squeaking from inside the beak ended with a loud crunch, and the whole thing went down in one large gulp.

"Guess that explains why he knows how to get here." Beth chuckled. "This is his snack bar."

"Good!" Heather shuffled closer to Marlin. "Bite them! Bite their ugly faces off!"

Marlin was happy to oblige, snapping at any more bats that flew too close. Gwen watched with morbid fascination, while in Beth's head the wheels were turning. Something clicked in her memories, and she quickly began scarfing down the rest of her trail mix. Her lunch break finished, she grabbed her crowbar and headed deeper into the cave.

"What the hell is she doing?" Heather wondered out loud.

"Why's it any of your business? Haven't you butted into her life enough as it is?"

"Excuse you, she wanted to be part of our alliance." Heather said. "I never forced anything on her- she was the one who was always so desperate to be just like me. Then she decided to get pissy about me fake killing Lindsay like it was the worst thing ever and now she acts like she's so much better than everyone."

"Oh trust me, she lost respect for you long before that happened." Gwen said.

"Figures. Lemme guess, you got in her head with all that talk about how horrible and evil and mean popular kids are." Heather said.

"No. It was DJ." Gwen said. "Beth told me that's the moment she didn't wanna be like you."

"Oh." Heather went quiet. It was a reverent silence, as though the mere mention of that incident demanded she stop and ponder seriously for a moment.

"Why?" Heather finally asked. "It wasn't my fault Chris put her in there with that psycho beast."

"That's not the point. When DJ came in to save her, they were total strangers. He was sticking his neck out for her just out of the goodness of his heart. Something you'd never, ever do."

"How could I? That thing would totally clobber me if I tried."

"You still don't get it. It's not that you can't, it's that you wouldn't. You've never helped her, you didn't ever lift a finger when you could make her do it for you. So she saw the opposite of that, and realized she was sick of you." Gwen said.

Heather didn't have a comeback for that one. Or maybe she just didn't want the conversation to go on any longer. It was getting pretty personal and heavy, and was a miracle that an honest conversation like this could take place between them. Maybe the survival was making them chummy. Gwen bristled at the thought. Not in this lifetime.

A few minutes later, Beth came back with a softball sized, grayish lump of something. She sat down next to Heather and peeled off a chunk the size of her thumb.

"Give me your arm." Beth said.

Reluctantly, Heather offered it towards her. It was covered in large red welts from all the bee stings. "What is that stuff?" She asked.

"It's a skin cream, made from clay and guano." Beth explained as she smeared some on the first bee sting. "I learned how to make it in girl scouts. It should stop the swelling and itching."

Heather narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Beth. "Why?"

"Because you were stung by bees, stupid." Beth said bluntly. "I know what that feels like. It hurts."

"And you're just doing this out of the goodness of your heart?" Heather asked mockingly.

"Yes." Beth said. "If you're nice, you're nice to everyone. Not just your friends or the people whose butt you wanna kiss. Now hold still, you're squirming."

Against her worst impulses, Heather tried to stay still. The only thing keeping her from pulling away was that, if she had to walk around with these bee stings any longer, she would probably scratch so hard she would bleed. At least the cream seemed to be working as promised, relieving her of the urge to rip her skin off.

"Thanks." She muttered under her breath.

Though she didn't say anything at first, Beth heard it. She'd never heard Heather thank her sincerely for anything before. Oh, she loved dishing out the sarcastic thank yous, especially when Lindsay made a particularly bad faux pas, but it was never real gratitude. Not for trimming her toenails, or doing her laundry, or helping her ruin the lives of everyone Heather didn't like.

Beth probably wouldn't forgive Heather any time soon, but maybe if this kept up she could get something else. A more equitable relationship, where they could at least coexist with an understanding of one another. Rather than continue their feud, only placing herself in the position of power this time, she would end that vicious cycle once and for all. That's how DJ would have done it, Beth imagined. This was her final, penultimate way of living up to her dream of being like him.

High above their heads, the forests of Boney Island began to part around Courtney as she and Geoff followed Izzy up the slopes of the cliff. A gentle breeze wafted between the trees, which gently swayed and rustled. The island could be quite serene, for a place that tried to kill them every five minutes.

"Izzy." Courtney dared to make conversation. "When you were…taken away from the island, did you meet everyone who was eliminated after that?"

"Pretty much yeah." Izzy said. "Until I left. Why?"

"Was Bridgette there? Was she mad at me? Disappointed? What did she say?"

To that, Izzy could only offer a shrug. "Dunno, maybe? If she was, she never told me. She didn't like to hang out with me though, so maybe that was part of it."

"I can't imagine why." Courtney muttered.

"She asked about you a lot. You and Geoff." Izzy continued. "Asking all the newbies if they'd seen you and if you were still doing okay."

"Awwww." Geoff swooned a little. "That's my babe. Tell her I said she's totally rad and I am totally bringing her that one-hundred grand next time I see her yo. Oh! Is DJ there too?"

"Nah, he's still in the hospital." Izzy said.

"At the rate we're going, so will we." Courtney grumbled under her breath.

They approached a small tree stand, which was full of one type in particular whose canopy sprawled in every direction, from low branches touching the ground to ones that reached high up, almost as if it was a bush that had grown to impossibly large proportions. And from this tree hung a fruit the likes of which they had never beheld before. It was green, fuzzy and oblong, and reminded them almost of a pear that was more ovular.

The feast however wasn't theirs alone to enjoy. Another resident of the island had already beat them here, and was plucking these bountiful branches for themselves. A ground sloth sat at the base of the tree, using his claws to pluck the baseball sized fruits and slurp them down whole with a long prehensile tongue. What he had found was in fact a butternut tree, a rare and endangered species in most of Canada that was found plentifully in the floral assemblages of Boney Island.

The cultivar found on Boney Island was especially unique for its much larger nuts. These had co-evolved with the resident giant herbivores, growing to immense sizes so that only the largest animals would bother eating them. This ensured that they were carried further, and that larger piles of fecal matter were deposited with the seeds to act as fertilizer. In this manner they had convergently evolved with the avocado plant, which in South America had come to depend on the giant sloths as their sole means of seed dispersal. In lieu of these megaherbivores, this anachronistic vegetable presently survives thanks to the millenial compulsion to spread its contents on toast.

Getting to the butternuts wouldn't be easy with the big, shaggy sloth already chowing down on them. That bothered Izzy not, for she had a plan.

"You guys stay here." Izzy said. "When I come back screaming, you know to run."

Courtney and Geoff sat down by some rocks and watched as Izzy crept into the trees.

She disappeared from view and into the bushes, silently creeping up on the sloth from the underbrush. Picking up some stones, she began pelting the animal with rocks until it turned around to see who dared. Before it could complete the turn, Izzy leapt into the trees with the grace of a leopard, avoiding being spotted and now dashing from branch to branch right over the sloth's head. Now she was in the very same branches that the sloth had been feeding from seconds ago, and could start plucking all the giant butternuts for herself.

Izzy quickly began filling a satchel full of the fruit. All was going well until the sloth lost interest in her distraction and turned back towards the crop of butternuts it had been gorging on, only to see an intruder in the trees stealing his prime picks. Izzy nearly lost a leg but for her lightning fast reactions as it reached up and swiped at her.

"Haha, too slow!" She laughed and darted away. The beast chased her out of the grove, snorting, chuffing and bellowing rather angrily at her.

Courtney and Geoff looked up just in time to see Izzy leap from the treetops and do a tuck and roll as she hit the ground, bounding back to her feet in almost a single smooth motion.

"Go go go! Big angry sloth!" She urged.

They didn't have to be told twice. Just as they were getting a move on, the sloth came crashing through the trees behind them. Luckily, they had enough of a head start, and the sloth was not much of a distance runner to begin with. They kept well ahead of it, until they were far enough from the tree stand that it decided to turn around and go back to its business.

"This is crazy." Courtney panted. "You do this every day? For paint?"

"Oh no, this isn't for the paint." Izzy said. "This is dinner!"

After going through all that, Courtney could only hope this would turn out some five star gourmet dish for the effort.

Stepping outside of the cave, Beth was blasted by bright sunlight in the world above. It wasn't just the darkness of the cave that made it seem so dazzling. Once her eyes had adjusted, she looked up and saw it there between two banks of white fluffy clouds. The sun was out. Not just a trickle of light from between the clouds, granted to them in an interval between drenching rainfall. For the first time in a week, Beth, Heather and Gwen could bask in the warmth and luminance of sunlight.

They hardly had time to enjoy it however. Marlin impatiently honked at them to get moving, hopping from branch to branch to outline the path ahead.

"Guess we better keep going." Beth said. "Hope it's close. Whatever it is."

"It better be." Heather grumbled.

They had emerged much higher up in the hills of Boney Island than where they first entered. This was a loosely forested, rocky place, with trees forming in groves wherever there was enough soil to take hold, and a smattering of hardier plants growing on the rocks wherever they could get a foothold.

As Marlin led them up the hillside they had to pass between narrow crevices, pinned by giant boulders on either side. Just as they were about to turn a corner, Beth skidded to a stop in place. She stopped Heather and Gwen by holding out her arm to block their path, turning to them with a finger over her lips to silently tell them to shut up. Marlin had gone silent too, landing high in the branches of a tree and poising himself to launch for a diving attack. Something was amiss.

Now that the sun had returned they could see shadows on the ground clearly. The only problem was that there was one right now looming from around the corner, and it looked eerily human. Beth gripped her crowbar tightly, and made a motion. The shadow moved closer, the sound of footsteps tapping against the rock growing louder with each passing second. Beth readied herself to strike, guessing where their head would poke out.

Izzy came around the corner and the first thing she saw was the gleam of sharpened steel swinging at her head. She only barely had the reflexes to dodge it.

"Nice swing! You almost got me."

"Woah! Watch it, it's just us man!" Geoff said, rushing around the corner to get between them. Courtney was right behind them

"Geoff? Courtney?" Beth blanked when looking at the redhead. "Crazy girl?"

"Izzy's the name. We're on our way up to the cliff to grab some eggs for the paint."

"Paint?" Gwen raised a brow.

"Don't ask." Courtney sighed. "What the hell are you doing here? Why did you try to hit Izzy in the head?"

"Sorry. We're a little on edge after we got attacked by bees." Beth hid her crowbar behind her back sheepishly. "We were following Marlin up to the cliff, maybe we could join you?"

"Who's Marlin?"

She didn't have to wait for an answer. Tree branches rustled above their heads, and the sonorous war cry of a very angry goose accompanied a blur of feathers descending on them. The moment that honking reached his ears, Geoff dove for the ground, just in time for it to skim over where his head would have been.

Marlin landed feet away from him. The giant goose spun around to face him just as Geoff was pulling himself off the ground. Marlin hissed and honked aggressively, baring fangs and spreading his wings in vicious protest.

"No! Bad goose!" Beth chided as she jumped between them. "Geoff's a friend!"

"Man, does every goose on this whole island hate me?" He said.

It was a reasonable question to ask for someone whose arm was still healing from the last time he crossed paths with a goose. Then, a light clicked on in Beth's head.

"Maybe it's just the one." She said. "I think it's the same goose from before."

"No way man. How can you tell?" Geoff asked.

"Yeah, maybe all killer geese have a death wish against party boy." Heather suggested.

"I don't think so." Beth shook her head.

"As much as I'd love to stand around and debate this, I'd rather get this stupid hiking trip over with." Heather said. "Party boy, back of the line. Beth, keep that thing away from him so we can get moving already."

"Come on Marlin, this way." Beth started herding the giant goose away from him towards the front of the group. He seemed to calm down once everyone was standing between him and Geoff, and the group were blessed with a relief from the incessant honking.

They continued forward, emerging from the small corridor onto a more open and flat part of the hill. It wouldn't be but an hour to the peak of the cliff from here.

"How did she get here?" Gwen whispered to Courtney, jerking her thumb at Izzy. "I thought we kicked her off the island weeks ago."

"Unfortunately." Courtney said, "She's been living in the woods here for a while and coming to camp to steal stuff."

"But why?" Gwen asked.

"Something about a breakup with one of the other losers, I don't know." Courtney shrugged. "They'll send rescue soon, we just gotta deal with her until then."

Suddenly Izzy and Beth came skidding to a halt at the front.

"Shhhhh." Izzy said. "Do you hear that?"

"Is it the sound of common sense?" Heather asked facetiously "Wow, I hear it saying, cover those things up, you'll poke someone's eye out."

"No, seriously." Beth said. "Hush."

Reluctantly, they piped down. That's when they first heard the drumbeats clearly. It was distant and echoed through the hills, but as they moved ahead it became clearer and sharper. Soon it was joined by an ominous, strange sounding chorus of voices. As the sun dipped behind a passing cloud bank, the shade highlighted one of the crevices running around the hillside. A faint orange glow emanated from somewhere within, and like moths to a flame the campers crept towards it.

Compelled by curiosity, they looked down into the fissure from above. Nestled within was a whole grove of thriving plant life at the bottom of a steep ravine. Along the walls, torches hung over the heads of a crowd that stood solemnly on either side of the stone hallway. The figures in the crowd were not human, but the same fur-clad simians that they had spotted so briefly on their last trip here. But this wasn't just a hunting party of two, no. It had to be a whole tribe. At least two dozen of them were lined up single file on each side. Their heads were turned downwards in solemn repose, and each and every one of them uttered a haunting song. It was more birdlike than anything they'd heard uttered by a human before.

Those wondering what occasion called for such a gathering were soon answered. Four of them came walking down the aisle carrying what could best be described as a stretcher. Two sticks, as big around as a fist and as long as a car, were bound together by vines and fern fronds wrapped tightly to form a sheet, roughly a meter across.

On it lay another one of their own kind. Judging by the barrel chest and large pouch beneath the chin it must have been male. Its fur was gray and mangy, the exposed skin on its face wrinkly and cracked. Lavishly decorated fiber cords lashed it to the It was also completely motionless. Its chest did not rise or fall, the only twitches it made were with the movement of the stretcher.

This simian was dead. As it passed by its living kin they held their arms outstretched with palms up, as if offering some invisible token to the dead. Most of them dressed lightly, wearing only various belts and sashes on which they stored their stone tools.

At the end of the ravine there awaited an altar, made of an overturned large stone slab. An individual dressed in a long, flowing feather robes presided over it, making gestures that were unfamiliar. The performance of it suggested a deeper meaning that none of the human interlopers were privy to.

Once the stretcher reached the altar, the priest, for that was what he seemed most like to those teenagers with a Western, post-Christian background, recited several calls, to which the stretcher bearers belted out very affirmative answers. When this exchange concluded, they lay the stretcher down on the surface of the altar, and the bearers stood to the side. Then the priest made a loud, rumbling yell, and the drumbeats began to pick back up. At the other end of the grove, a figured emerged and began its lonesome march down the aisle.

This one was unlike any other in the crowd. It wore the top half of a sloth's skull like a helmet, its eyes just barely peeking through the openings in the bone. A large fur cape fluttered behind every step it took. Weapons adorned his body. A belt of stone knives, a bag of spears, a quiver of arrows, and two bows to use with it were part of his vast stone-age arsenal he carried. He even had a club that used the railway spike sized teeth from a giant beaver to turn it into a war pick.

"That's him." Izzy whispered, as quite as the rustle of grass.

His footsteps fell in perfect unison with the slow, heavy drumbeats. It gave his approach an even more awe inspiring and ominous tone. With his tail held high above his head he carried an amulet, with beautiful amber beads and an intricately carved pendant depicting the face of the deceased.

He marched all the way to the altar and knelt before the lifeless body of his fallen kin. Gently he lay the amulet over the chest. He then began a chant of some sort, first alone, and then joined by a chorus. The drum beat changed to match him, and the song rose towards a booming crescendo. It was somber yet powerful, and without understanding a word of it those who heard knew that it was in one stroke a celebration of life and a poignant reflection on death. The whole ravine acted like an amplifier, such that the campers laying at the edge of it could feel it rattling their bones up until the very last note.

When silence reigned once more the priest tapped his staff against the stone wall behind them. Then the wall began to part. What they had assumed to be a dead end was in fact a massive stone slab, and with the work of ropes and simple pulleys unseen it peeled back to reveal a tunnel into the Earth.

The stretcher bearers resumed their positions, raising the dead one from the altar. With the hunter leading them they descended through the tunnel and into the unseeable blackness within. Doubtless, his final resting place lay somewhere within.

Carefully, the campers crawled away from the edge of the ravine. Once they were a safe distance, they got back on their feet and quietly resumed their march up the cliff side, puzzling over what they just saw.

"Told ya guys they were real." Izzy said when they were safely far away. "You all thought I was crazy."

"And we still do." Heather said. "What the hell were those things?"

"Some kind of monkey people." Courtney said. "Izzy was talking about them earlier. She said they came here before humans did."

"What were they doing?" Geoff asked.

"Haven't you ever seen a funeral before?" Gwen snapped harshly, though she quickly realized that the words she uttered had more vitriol than she'd meant. "Sorry. No offense or anything, if you haven't."

"It's all cool G."

"I just wanna know who was that big guy with that wicked looking skull mask." Gwen said. "He looked like bad news."

"That's the hunter." Izzy said. "You do not wanna mess with him, he's like the only one of them who knows how to fight and man, he knows it damn well."

"Let's hope he doesn't come hunting us." Beth said.

"He better not." Heather added.

The rest of the trek to the skull cliff was made in relative silence. Izzy caught Beth and the other latecomers up to speed on all her claims about the island natives, and Courtney continually cautioned them to take all of it with a huge grain of salt. Especially anything that she claimed to have heard from Mrs. Cranium.

At the peak of the skull they stopped and took a break. Gwen shared the last of their snacks from the trailer, while Izzy offered them what was left of her jerky and other survival foods. On a mostly clear day like today, the view up there was stunning. In one direction they could see the whole island stretched out before them, and in the other the gleaming blue of the lake shone splendidly. It was warm with a slight breeze, and the temptation for a nap plied at their minds.

But the respite couldn't last forever. Soon, Marlin was getting anxious again and urging them to move on.

"You guys take the bird wherever it needs to go." Courtney said. "We'll follow Izzy to get the eggs. We meet at the bottom of the cliff on the beach when we're done."

Beth and Gwen went to follow Marlin, who started them in a narrow foot path down the face of the skull. Putting one foot in front of the other, they fought the urge to look down, lest they be faced with the hundreds of meters they could fall if they slipped. That this was for an animal whose intentions remained yet unclear never registered as strange. They'd spent the whole season doing all sorts of absurd challenges for a host who they had far less sympathy for than the goose.

What did register as strange, when the noticed it, was that Heather was following them down the cliffside.

"Uh, you know, nobody is forcing you to stay with us, right?" Gwen asked. "You could go back up with Courtney and be out of our hair."

"As if." Heather said. "Beth, you're actually trying to be nice. Gwen, you're at least honest about being an anti-social Goth bitch. Courtney is the worst. She might delude herself into thinking she's a saint, but she's every bit as nasty as I have ever been."

"Wow, that almost resembled something vaguely like a compliment." Gwen gasped in feigned shock.

"Don't read too much into it." Heather said.

"Oh trust me, I won't." Gwen said.

The journey took them to the eye of the skull, where the storm last night had wrought great destruction. Large sections of the ledges that lined inside of the eye had collapsed into a pile of rubble. It all lay in a heap at the bottom, with small stones occasionally tumbling down the pile and plummeting to the beach below. Gwen imagined that from a distance, it looked like tears welling up in that eye, forever held back but for one or two occasional droplets that managed to escape. It was a shame she didn't have her sketchbook.

On top of the pile there appeared an unexpected guest. A lynx had found its way up the cliff, and was trying to paw through the rubble for something. As they got closer, the sound of distress squeaking became audible, coming from somewhere within the heap of broken stones.

"That's his baby down there!" Beth gasped.

She hurried to complete her descent, landing on the pile and rushing at the cat with her weapon in hand.

"Shoo! Go away! Bad kitty!" She barked. The cat bristled and hissed at her, snarling aggressively as it poised to defend its kill. Upon seeing the intruder trying to dig out his offspring, Marlin took to the skies again. He circled around the eye and dove in to attack, and the lynx turned to face his new aggressor.

This afforded Beth a window to get in and strike, unhindered by teeth or claws. As gently as she could she jabbed the animal with her crowbar, trying to drive it away without hurting it severely. Under attack from the ground and the sky, the lynx turned tail and fled down the cliffside.

With the immediate danger of the predator driven away, Beth knelt by the pile of stones from which the distressed squeaking came from. Years of working with ducks and chickens had ingrained the sound of frightened baby birds into her memory- she had no doubt this is what they were brought here for in the first place. Marlin landed beside her and started trying to help her lift the rocks, but it was clear he was out of his element. Though he was a powerful flier and equipped with deadly weapons for hunting, he was hapless trying to clear away the massive chunks of rubble.

All four of them together made good progress on clearing away the stones. Those too heavy for any one of them to lift, Beth lifted together with Heather and Gwen. Some were too heavy for even that to work, and she had to use the crowbar to lift it off the ground, while Gwen and Heather controlled the ends until they got it close enough to the cliff edge to toss over the side. For once, Heather did the dirty work, side by side with Beth, not complaining about how this would break a nail or chafe her perfect skin.

Together they were able to dig all the way down to the source of the cries, until there remained by one obstacle left. A massive stone slab pinned the remains of the nest in place beneath it. It would make a tomb for the chick inside, should they not act soon.

Beth jammed the hook end of her crowbar under the edge of the slab, and pulled with all her might. It didn't budge. She grabbed it with both hands and heaved, sweat dripping down her forehead as she strained and yanked it forcefully. It didn't move. Increasingly frustrated, Beth only took a minute to breath and compose herself before going at it yet again, this time digging her feet into the ground and leaning back as she pulled to try and use her weight to get more power.

A pair of hands suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders. "Careful Beth!" Gwen urged. "It's a long way down."

Beth stopped and glanced over her shoulder. When she saw the fall that awaited her should she stumble, her stomach turned into knots. She staggered back away from the ledge and found a place to sit down and catch her breath.

"We're so close." Beth said, balling her fists in frustration. "We can't give up now."

"Then we won't." Gwen sat down next to her. "We'll find a way."

Even Heather came over, and sat with them in a show of support. "We did not walk all the way across this stupid island, get attacked by bees and mobbed by bats, to give up and cry like losers."

"Thanks guys." Beth cracked a smile.

Invigorated, she stood up to her feet and grabbed her crowbar once more. Gwen and Heather followed, and as Beth hooked it under the stone slab again they each placed their hands over hers. Maybe it was too much for any one of them, but with all three working together, the power of God and levers on their side, they had a chance to prevail.

"We go on three." Gwen said. "Ready?"

"Ready."

"Ready."

"One. Two. Three!"

All together they heaved, pulling back with all their might. The steel groaned as it bent against the weight of the hulking stone slab. It rumbled, dust and gravel cascading off it as it began to shift. That slight wiggle became movement, the slab slowly rising a millimeter at a time. All told, they got it up just a few inches, and that was all the difference in the world right there. With dust soaked into its downy feathers, the goose chick scurried out from under the slab to the waiting safety of its father.

Relieved and exhausted, the campers let go of the crowbar. The rock slammed back down with a lithic thud, and they all stepped back to look at the fruits of their labor.

None of them save for Beth were experts in bird body language or emoting, but the calls that Marlin made could be mistaken for nothing but joy. He fussed over the child as any worried parent would, turning the chick around and prodding it with his beak to inspect for injuries. Against all odds it seemed that the baby goose had come out of it completely unscathed, and would only require some preening to get all the dust off.

"Awww, it's adorable!" Beth squeed, leaning in to pet the fuzzy little gosling.

Marlin however, wasn't having any of it. He turned around and snapped his beak at Beth's hand. Startled, she stumbled backwards and withdrew her hand.

"Eep!"

"Careful Beth." Gwen warned. "They're still wild animals."

"Yeah." She sighed. "We should probably go."

"Duh, I don't want to be around when baby's hungry and Daddy starts looking for dinner." Heather said.

As they turned to climb out, Beth waved at the two birds. "Goodbye! It was nice meeting you."

"Take care." Gwen added.

The birds seemed to return the sentiment as best they could, honking and chirping at them as they climbed back out of the eye. After they were safely far away, they found the start of the foot path that would take them down the cliffside, and began their descent. They looked up just in time to see Marlin take to the skies above them, no doubt in search of a new place to nest.

The rest of their journey to the beach was made without incident. A few minutes after they'd arrived, Izzy, Courtney and Geoff emerged from the woods.

"Hey, you're missing someone. Where's your feathered friend?" Izzy asked.

"Is he gone?" Geoff asked nervously.

"Yeah." Beth said. "Did you guys get your eggs?"

They made the return trip by circling around the long way down the beach. Though it entailed more walking than the way by which they came, it was a lovely scenic route that let them watch as the sun trekked further and further down the horizon. By the time they'd made it back to Izzy's cave it was almost sunset, and they were bathed in a warm yellow light that shone through and around the scattered clouds that hugged the horizon. Boney Island was as full of beauty and wonder as it was death and terror, and today had left them not wanting for the former.

Perhaps more important than that, it offered less room for error in navigation. That became ever more important as the lighting became dim and shadows long. Izzy's cave hideout was only a short distance from the shore, where she parked a small log raft for excursions to the mainland. Beth recognized it from their trip to Boney Island yesterday. Strange to think she'd been lurking under their noses this whole time.

The cave, which had been spacious for two, was now rather crowded with six people trying to share it. Beth and Gwen were fine sharing a seat, but Heather wanted her personal space and Courtney and Geoff were struggling to give it to her.

"There has got to be somewhere else I can spend the night." Heather groused. "I am too young and beautiful to sleep sandwiched between weirdos."

"Get over yourself." Gwen said. "I bet you've never had to struggle for anything in your life."

"Try struggling to be good enough for your parents." Heather said. "You're lucky. Your Mom actually lets you be an artist."

"How would you know what my Mom lets me do?" Gwen narrowed her eyes skeptically.

"You're obviously fine with everyone seeing you do it. If you had success kid parents they wouldn't have you caught dead practicing art. Artists starve. Successful people go to cheer practice, ballet lessons, tutoring, they study, they network." Each word dripped with more bitterness than the last.

"Woah." Geoff scratched his head. "How do you find time for parties after all of that?"

"You don't. Idiot."

"Harsh." He winced. "When I joined football I was so sure I was gonna lose all the time I had for parties, but instead I just got more bros who I knew would show up and make things awesome."

"I wouldn't call a party with a whole football team awesome." Courtney said. "Sounds like a recipe for destroyed furniture and sexual assault charges." She would later clarify, both in person to Bridgette and in a confessional, that she wasn't implying Geoff to be a molester of any sort. Rather, she was simply expressing her general disdain for the football team, with Geoff simply being an exception that proved the rule.

"Really?" Gwen raised a brow. "Then what's your idea of a good time at a party, Miss Proud and Prejudiced?"

"If you must pry, Lame Austen." Courtney said.

"Wow, good one."

"I don't go to parties, I go to social events. They're full of wealthy future clientele that I need to make a good impression on. Something most of you wouldn't understand. Can you even spell the word future?" She asked Heather only slightly facetiously.

"Not everyone here needs to have your big-shot lawyer future to be happy." Beth shot back. "Some of us would be perfectly fine just having an average life."

Before Courtney could formulate any kind of comeback to that, Izzy came into the main chamber with a large metal pot. She set it over the fire on a rack, probably looted from one of those cheap burger-shaped pot metal grills you could buy for fifty bucks at the grocery store.

"Okay kids, arts and crafts time is almost ready." Izzy said. "But first! Dinner."

"Do I even want to know what's in it?" Heather asked.

"Its soup! Its got mystery meat, mushrooms, roots, bone marrow broth, and this can of beans I found."

"...except for the mystery meat, that doesn't sound so bad." Beth said.

"Woo! Soup!" Geoff pumped his fist. "Awesome."

It wasn't too long before the open flames brought the pot to a rolling boil. Izzy served it to them in bowls that came in all shapes and sizes, but consistently were made of a hard white material with a rough texture. Beth was the first to realize that these were skulls that had been cut off at the cranium, and the way Gwen looked at her gave the impression she'd figured it out too. Neither opted to say anything lest they ruin the others appetite. Which would normally be hilarious practical humor, but this was a survival situation.

The soup wasn't the most amazing they had ever tasted, but it was surprisingly not disgusting for something made in a cave. Not with a box of scraps, as far as anyone knew. Hearty, filling, and overall tolerable, it drained steadily from their bowls, until they were scraping the last bits off the bottom.

"That big-shot lawyer future isn't just to feed my ego." Courtney sighed as she set her empty bowl aside. "I want to help people too, you know? The more successful I am, the more people I can help. The more I can change things for the better."

"Nice sentiment." Gwen said. "Wish I shared your optimism."

"And obviously, you know what's best for everyone." Heather said, her eyes narrowed skeptically at Courtney.

"Of course I do." Courtney said without missing a beat. "That's why my team only started winning once we weeded out the people who couldn't cooperate."

"Whatever lets you sleep at night." Heather shrugged.

Izzy emerged from the lower chambers with more bowls, this time containing a viscous purple liquid. She passed them around while collecting all the soup bowls, which she carried with her back into the cave, emerging a third time with leather hide that had instructions for the markings written on it in dark red ink that probably wasn't ink.

"Alright everyone, time to put on your facepaint if you wanna keep your soul." Izzy said. "Everyone, grab a partner and start painting."

Whether or not they believed in their host's superstitious ramblings or not, they set about trying to recreate the patterns in good faith. As long as she kept them fed and warm by the fire, there was no harm in indulging in her imagination. Beth and Gwen even seemed eager to try out their artistic skills on each other, completing the spirals, curves, stripes and dots with elegant artistic flourishes.

Not everyone followed their good example however. Courtney helped Geoff, who in turn helped Heather, and as Izzy walked by the three of them she noticed a rather large discrepancy in his artwork.

"Geoff, stop trying to paint dicks on Heather's face, it won't work like that."

"Ewwww!" Heather screeched.

"Awww, but it's funny." he said, and immediately got slapped across the face by Heather for it.

"Heh, yeah it is." Izzy snickered.

From then on, Heather solicited her help from Beth and Gwen. At least she could count on them to do a good job.

The work carried on well after the sun had set and darkness fell on the island. Izzy only let them stop once everyone was up to hers and Ms. Cranium's rigorous standards of quality. Slowly, the fire died down to embers, radiating heat steadily. They slept on sheets of fur atop mattresses stolen from Wawanakwa, packed like sardines onto the small, creaky beds.

That night, as they lay trying to fall asleep, they would see flashes of purple light off in the distance. These were not accompanied by the thunderclaps that heralded lightning storms, but instead arrived with a crackling sound halfway between that of fire and electricity. It was faint, with a ghostly, otherworldly quality to it. Staring for too long made Beth feel compelled to go find the source, her curiosity threatening to overtake her fear in the depths of her sleep addled mind.

Exhaustion from the day's long trip was all that kept her in place. The world around her slowly faded to black, and the grip of slumber took hold of her mind.

The next morning, she was awoken not by the rising sun, but by the beating of a helicopter in flight. Beth stumbled to her feet, rushing out the door as fast as she could. Sure enough, as she emerged from the cave into the light of dawn, a small red helicopter roared overhead, fifty feet over the trees.

"Guys, guys!" Beth dashed back into the cave. "Wake up! Helicopter, outside! We're saved!"

The cave swelled with activity as they vaulted awake, tripping over each other in the race to get outside. It was a short jog to the beach, where they gathered on the sand and waved frantically to get the helicopter's attention. It circled around the island, apparently missing them the first pass, but as it came around again a few minutes later it swooped right over their heads and came to a stop.

"Hey down there!" A voice boomed from the speakerphone. "Man, Chris is gonna be so glad to hear you're not dead! I'll call em up and get the boat sent over here! Just sight tight guys."

The helicopter banked away, leaving the contestants to await their rescue. Izzy got a fire going on the beach, with the help of some pine needles, tree branches, and lighter fluid. They huddled around it for the next hour, reheating what was left of last night's stew to tide over their appetites until they could eat….well, to be honestly it was probably better than anything they were going to get back at Wawanakwa. All the more reason to savor it.

As the sun emerged fully from behind the horizon, they were bathed in brightness that had become unfamiliar to them in the past week. Like lizards, they lounged around the beach simply absorbing the warming rays, until a small boat pushed up on the shore, and a familiar face hopped out of the boat to greet them.

"Come on guys, get on." Belle waved them over. "This show can't go on without the stars."

"It's you." Courtney gasped.

"Nice to see you again, Isabel." She winked. "Glad to see Jerry made it safe too. Barney's running the boat, he'll be glad to see you made it."

"I apologize for the long wait." Barney said as they climbed aboard the boat and picked out seats. "That storm destroyed and damaged much of our equipment, and threw the whole camp into disarray! We spent all of yesterday fixing up the helicopters and boats so we could start looking for you."

"Woah. Sounds gnarly man." Geoff said, "Just glad you're here now, this place was majorly starting to freak me out. Nice boat man."

"It better be." Barney exchanged a fistbump with Geoff. "I spent all day working on it. If I have to lie down in that engine bay again-"

"You know these losers?" Heather asked.

"That's between us, Isabel and Jerry. They can tell you if they want." Belle winked. "Alright Captain, we got them aboard. Take us out."

"Aye aye, First Mate Shepherd!" Barney said in a mock pirate voice.

The anchor chain clattered loudly as it pulled out of the sand, and the boat's motor roared as it churned water. Just like that, they were free of the beach and floating, and turned to head back home. Boney Island shrunk behind them, and Wawanakwa began to loom across the horizon. Soon they'd be back, the challenges would resume, and everything would go back to normal again. They'd all be competing for the grand prize, which only one of them could win.

"Isn't it crazy how like, we worked together?" Beth asked Heather, pointing to her and then to Gwen. "You two like, almost got along."

"It was majorly freaky." Heather nodded. "I hope we will never speak of it again."

"Amen to that." Gwen said. "Let's just go back to hating each other when we step off this boat."

"Fine by me." Heather said.

It was a bit disappointing for Beth to hear. She'd hoped that maybe they would realize their differences were petty and pointless, that their feud was something they needed to leave behind, and that they could turn over a new leaf. And that leaf was friendship.

Today would not be that day. As they pulled up to the dock at Wawanakwa, they stepped out and saw the full extent of the damage of the storm that had swept through. Windows were blown out, tiles had been ripped off the cabin roofs, trailers that hadn't been properly secured in place had scattered all over, or crashed into each other.

Waiting for them on the dock was Chris. In a strange reprisal of their first day on the island, the six contestants each got off the boat and assembled in front of him.

"Campers! You're not dead, which means the show can go on." Chris declared, then narrowed his eyes at Izzy. "I also see we have some unwanted squatters on our island."

"I'm notoriously hard to get rid of." Izzy grinned. "Just ask any of my exes."

"Riiiiight." Chris said. "Meet me by the campfire and I'll give you guys the rundown of what's happening here."

Seeing no reason to delay, the campers headed directly for the small hill overlooking the campsite. Though it was a short walk, they had to mind their step not to trip over debris and refuse that had been scattered all over the island by the wind. Shortly thereafter, Chris arrived with a plate full of five marshmallows, and set them down as he began explaining.

"Campers, I'm sure you noticed on the way up here, that this island is pretty trashed." Chris said.

"Duh, it looks like you hired a bunch of hobos to live here, and then hired different, dirtier hobos to mug them and take over because they weren't making enough of a mess already." Heather said.

"Thanks for that Heather." Chris said. "We won't be ready for filming again for a few days while we clean things up. So, consider yourselves off for the week."

The campers erupted into a chorus of cheers.

"Wait, so what's with the marshmallows?" Gwen asked.

"I'm glad you asked Gwen." Chris said. "If I call your name, come up and get a marshmallow. The camper who does not receive a marshmallow must immediately go back to the Dock of Shame, get on the Boat of Losers, which we just fixed up, thank you, and leave the island for good. Permanently. Like, no coming back, ever. Is that clear? You do not get to go back to the island, unless I say so."

They all looked at each other awkwardly, not sure if this was a joke or some elaborate prank. Had Chris finally had his psychotic break?

"Courtney, Beth, Heather, Geoff and Gwen, come up and get your marshmallows." Chris said.

Relieved to still be in the game, they all did as told, which when said and done left Izzy sitting without a marshmallow.

"Izzy! Get off my island!" Chris said. "Eliminated, means eliminated! Not, sneak out of the resort and squat on a nature reserve, stealing all the matches I use to light the grill. And put a shirt on, you're scaring away the family friendly advertisers!"

"Never! Hahaha!" Izzy laughed maniacally as she ran down the hill to the boat. Chef gunned the engine as soon as she was aboard, roaring away from the dock so she had no chance to sneak off while someone wasn't looking.

Her departure marked the closing note of what was certainly the strangest interval of the entire competition. While there still lay a few more surprises in store for the remaining campers, never again would they have a day that was quite so distinctly weird, from beginning, to end.