The torch flickered in my hand, flames sputtering lower and weaker. The main fire crackled, and my stomach dropped. The flames were dying.
Oh, God. The fire's going out.
Panic clawed up my throat. I'm running out of time. Running out of options.
As I swung the torch again, driving back a scrawny female creeping toward my left side, I scanned the tree above me. A low-hanging branch was two feet above my head. Thick enough to hold my weight. But was it high enough to keep me safe from them?
It was the only shot I had.
As I sucked in huge breaths, lungs burning, getting ready to move, I studied the branch above me, memorizing its exact position, calculating the distance. I had one chance.
If I missed, I was dead.
Clenching my jaw, I stepped toward the fire, sweeping the flaming branch in a wide arc, forcing back the closest dingoes.
I tossed the torch back onto the main fire, and their snarls filled my ears as I ran at the tree and jumped.
A cry tore from my throat as my hands grasped for the branch. Rough bark bit into my palms as I swung my legs up hard, using every bit of momentum I had. My bare feet slammed against the wood, and white-hot pain exploded through the raw, shredded flesh on my heels.
One dog tried to climb after me, his claws scraping against tree bark.
I shrieked as my feet slipped away. My legs dropped, swinging wildly beneath me, and a scream ripped out of my throat.
The pack went wild below me. Snarling, leaping, snapping at my dangling feet.
I kicked one in the head, and it yelped and raced away. But another one took its place, and I tried to kick it, too.
There were too many of them. Move, Charlie, or they will eat you!
I swung my legs up again, every muscle shaking. My biceps burned with fire. Come on. Come on. But my body wouldn't obey. I was too heavy, too weak. Days of dehydration and exhaustion had drained everything out of me, and I had nothing left.
I hung there by my hands, arms stretched overhead, and my bare legs completely exposed.
The dogs circled around me, their snarls rising higher and higher. A scrawny female lunged at me, and her jaws opened wide, teeth snapping at my ankle. I kicked hard, and my foot connected with her snout. She yelped and fell back, but the others pressed closer. Two dingoes dug at the base of the tree, dirt flying as if they couldn’t control their frenzy.
The smell of them rose up. Rank and wild, with blood and decay.
I dug my fingers into the branch, and clenching my jaw, I kicked up again, fighting gravity. My biceps screamed, shaking and burning. But I got nowhere.
My shoulders tore apart. The tree above me swam in and out of focus.
I can't do this.
As my heart hammered so hard it pounded in my neck, I looked down.
Shit!
The pack circled beneath me. I counted seven. Eight. In the flickering firelight, their eyes were pure evil, watching every move I made. Jaws hung open, and their wet tongues flopped out as they panted. Saliva dripped from yellowed teeth. Most of them just stared up at me, heads tilted, waiting.
Waiting for me to fall.
Waiting to tear me apart.
One still scratched at the dirt below the branch, claws scraping as a low whine built in its throat. The alpha paced back and forth, its dripping tongue spilled from its mouth.
Gritting my teeth, I swung my legs up one more time. My abs cramped, my shoulders burned, but I got my left ankle over the branch.
The bark ground into my heel, and white-hot agony exploded up my leg. I bit down on a scream, tasting blood where I'd cut my tongue. Tears blurred my vision, but I held on.