Page 25 of Primal Snow

Squatting down, I do my business, wincing as the freezing air hits places it shouldn’t. I hate every second of it, but nature doesn’t wait for comfort. Or dignity.

When I’m done, I realize that toilet paper isn’t provided in the wilderness, either. Snow? No way. I dig under the frozen surface and find a patch of moss. It’s soft enough to do the job. As I wipe, I mutter under my breath, “Please, God, don’t let me get a UTI or frostbite on my cooch.”

Taking advantage of the moment, I also look for something sharp under the snow that could act as a key. Or a tool to slash his throat with. When suddenly, a howl pierces the air, low and eerie, coming from somewhere deep in the forest. I jump up, every hair on my body standing on end.

Yeti tenses, too. His head tilts, ears twitching as he listens with a warning growl rumbling low in his chest. Then he moves forward, his attention is no longer on me.

My survival instinct immediately kicks in.

This is it. My chance.

I understand I risk throwing myself to the starved wolves, but it may be the only one I get. Anything is betterthan being his sex slave, right?

I take a step back, then another, each feels like a gamble. No matter how slow and careful I try to be, my clunky boots crunch against the snow. I freeze, cringing at how loud it seems.

He doesn’t notice, too occupied scanning the surroundings.

I swallow hard, sucking in a shaky breath. And then I leap.

With adrenaline flooding my veins, I pour everything I have into it, sprinting toward the trees. The wind bites at my face, thick branches scrape at my arms, tearing through the jacket, and the oversized boots make each movement clumsy, but I push on. I don’t care where I’m going. I just know I need to get away.

I know it won’t last. I know he’ll notice any second now. And yet, for a brief, glorious moment, I cling to the illusion of freedom.

Then I hear it.

His deafening roar, ripping through the forest behind me.

Chapter 12

Don’t look back. Just run.

My legs burn as I push harder, desperately throwing myself forward, but I already know how this ends.

He’s toying with me. And he enjoys it.

I can feel it in the way his heavy footfalls close the distance between us at an unnerving pace. Each thud vibrates through the frozen ground, a harbinger of the inevitable. He’s probably been expecting it, waiting for this. He can catch me at any moment. But he’s letting me run, letting me struggle, savoring every second of it, knowing there’s nowherefor me to go.

“Fuck you!” I scream, glancing over my shoulder.

He’s right there, so close I can almost feel his hot breath on my back. His massive frame moves effortlessly through the snow, muscles rippling under his fur as he closes in. His eyes burn like coals with an almost playful glint, as if this is some sick game to him.

Panic surges through me, and my movements grow frantic. My breath comes in ragged gasps, stabbing at my chest like knives, and my vision blurs—tears, exhaustion, or sheer terror, I can’t even tell anymore. My foot hits a patch of ice, and suddenly, the ground vanishes.

I realize too late that we must be high up on the mountain. And things go from tragic to catastrophic in a split second.

I’m sliding, careening uncontrollably down the steep, rocky slope. Snow sprays up around me as I twist and tumble, my arms flailing in a desperate attempt to slow myself down, my boots flying off my feet. Sharp rocks bite into my skin as the jagged edges tear through the fabric of my jacket and leave streaks of crimson on the pristine snow.

Above me, his roar echoes through the trees again, and I glance back to see him leap after me. The sight is terrifying—this hulking beast, as white as snow, moves on all fours with the grace of a predator on the hunt.

I try to claw at the icy ground, digging my fingers into the snow to stop my deadly slide, but it’s useless. My momentum carries me faster and faster toward a huge drop… until his claws wrap around my ankle, yanking me backward with brutal force.

For the tiniest millisecond, I feel relief, recognizing just how badly I don’t want to die.

The thought hits me like a hammer to the chest. Would I really rather face him than let the mountain swallow me whole?

Then I remember his cage and all the nasty, unspeakable things he wants me for, and dying doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

I barely have time to scream before his massive hand clamps around my waist, pulling me up. The world tilts as he flips me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, my stomach slamming against the hard ridge of his collarbone. His grip is tight, claws digging into the backs of my thighs as he steadies me. I feel warm streaks of blood running down my naked legs, then his tongue lapping it all up with grunts of delight.

---