Page 33 of Primal Snow

Chapter 16

It’s been a few days since I woke up in this godforsaken cave. I think. I’m not entirely sure. Time doesn’t feel real here.

All I pray for—when I still bother praying—is that if someone finds the car wreck, they’ll trace it to Chase, who rented it out under his name. Then to the cabin. Then to the bodies.

Except for mine.

My parents are pretty well-off—I’m sure they’ll demand a search party. Chase’s family will help. Vicky’s, too. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance someonewill find me.

Oh, who am I fooling?

Yeti takes me outside only when I need to use the “bathroom,” but at least he doesn’t bind me anymore. Small victories, I guess. I’m also out of the cage permanently, even when he leaves to hunt for food. It’s mostly small prey he finds nearby, though each trip seems to take him longer than the last—which means my acting is working. Fish has become my favorite. Not because it tastes good, but because it’s the least disgusting option.

He washes me regularly, and I know he enjoys it.A lot. I’m really more of a pet to him than anything else, but I’ve given up on trying to understand why I’m still alive. He seems dead set on keeping me around for… reasons? He’ll probably eat me anyway once he’s satisfied with other things.

He fucks me constantly, so much that I’m always sore, and at this point, I’m convinced my pussy is shaped like a monster cock. But it’s not the worst. I’m slowly getting used to it. His routine. His habits. The strange, quiet world inside this cave.

I also found some leftover human things—a couple of dental travel kits from the airline (expired, but who cares?), some travel-size body wash and shampoo, a mini hairbrush—stuff that makes me feel a tiny bit more normal. I use them when I can, and he likes to watch me. I believe he finds it fascinating. Even more so, he likes to brush my hair himself while I kneel by his chair and blow him. But he prefers to use his claws for that. On some level, I’ve even grown to like it, too. His tasty cum keeps me warm from the inside out. It’s a very pleasantexperience, if I’m being honest.

Of course, I’m stillactivelyworking on my escape mission.

Every time he leaves, I go through his trophy stash. I found a rucksack from one of his previous victims and started stuffing it with anything useful—bits of survival gear, and whatever else I can find that might help me get down the mountain and back to civilization.

I’m waiting for the right moment.

He’s going to leave for a longer hunt eventually. And when he does? I run.

Finally, the day arrives when I sense my chance. Hurriedly, I put on the clothes and boots I selected that fit me the best, grab the large backpack with all the stuff I collected, and rush out.

I move toward the cave’s entrance, every muscle tense with anticipation, bracing for him to burst in at any moment. My hands tremble as I clutch an ice axe for protection, clinging to the jagged wall while following the path. My eyes strain to adjust to the pale light filtering in from outside.

The snow is blindingly white, a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of the cave. It crunches beneath my feet as I finally step out, the cold slicing through my skin like knives. But I don’t care. The icy air burns in my lungs, sharper and more painful than the stale cave air, but it’s freedom.

It’s freedom.

I start to run.

My breath comes in ragged gasps, each step a fightagainst the deep, powdery snow that clings to my legs and threatens to pull me down. The trees blur by as I push through, the wind howls, drowning out the sound of my frantic heartbeat. I know I risk dying from hypothermia, becoming dinner for that pack of wolves we heard the other day, or falling to my death from the mountain. But none of it matters.

I don’t even know where I’m going. Just away. Away from him, from the cave, from the nightmare that’s consumed my life.

The forest is endless, a labyrinth of towering pines and twisted roots cascading downhill. My body screams for rest, my legs burning with every step, but I can’t stop. If I stop, he’ll find me. If I stop, it’s over.

I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see his massive form tearing through the trees after me. There’s nothing. Just the shadows of the forest and the endless expanse of white.

The cold is unbearable now, sinking into my bones. My breath fogs the air, curling like smoke in the wind, and I grip the ice axe tightly in one hand and press my other arm against my body, trying to hold onto what little warmth I have left.

A branch snaps somewhere behind me, and the sound hits me like a punch to my gut.

No.No.

I start running again, my feet slipping on the uneven ground as the noise follows—closer now. Heavy footsteps. The crunch of snow. The unmistakable weight of something massive moving through the woods.

He’s found me.

Tears blur my vision as I push myself harder, fighting not to slip. But each one sends a shudder through the ground. I don’t look back. I can’t.

He’s close. Too close.

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