Rebellion. Fear. Survival.
Welcome to humanity’s last chance…

Stormchaser and Lincoln’s home city is burning. The people are starving. The only place left to run is Piloria – the continent of monsters. And it’s up to Storm and Lincoln to keep everyone alive.

But will the biggest threat to their survival be the monsters in the jungle…or the ones inside the encampment with them?

The Extinction Trials is S. M. Wilson’s first teen series. She lives with her family on the west coast of Scotland.

susan-wilson.com

@susanwilsonbook

#ExtinctionTrials

Books by S. M. Wilson:

The Extinction Trials

The Extinction Trials: Exile

The Extinction Trials: Rebel

To my three favourite heroes: Kevin, Elliott and Rhys Bain.

To my dad, John Niven Wilson, who has been pestering me for an early read of this book for forever!

And to my two Sarahs – Sarah Hornsley and Sarah Stewart – for making this dinosaur journey such fun!

CONTENTS

ABOUT THIS BOOK

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Title Page

Map of Piloria

Dedication

PART ONE: EARTHASIA

ONE: LINCOLN

PART TWO: PILORIA

TWO: STORMCHASER

THREE: STORMCHASER

PART THREE: THE END

FOUR: LINCOLN

FIVE: LINCOLN

PART FOUR: THE ARRIVAL

SIX: LINCOLN

SEVEN: STORMCHASER

EIGHT: LINCOLN

NINE: STORMCHASER

TEN: STORMCHASER

ELEVEN: LINCOLN

PART FIVE: THE CAMP

TWELVE: STORMCHASER

THIRTEEN: LINCOLN

FOURTEEN: STORMCHASER

FIFTEEN: LINCOLN

SIXTEEN: STORMCHASER

SEVENTEEN: STORMCHASER

EIGHTEEN: LINCOLN

NINETEEN: STORMCHASER

TWENTY: STORMCHASER

TWENTY-ONE: LINCOLN

TWENTY-TWO: STORMCHASER

TWENTY-THREE: LINCOLN

PART SIX: THE JUNGLE

TWENTY-FOUR: STORMCHASER

TWENTY-FIVE: LINCOLN

TWENTY-SIX: LINCOLN

TWENTY-SEVEN: STORMCHASER

PART SEVEN: THE ATTACK

TWENTY-EIGHT: LINCOLN

TWENTY-NINE: STORMCHASER

THIRTY: STORMCHASER

PART EIGHT: THE FAREWELL

THIRTY-ONE: LINCOLN

THIRTY-TWO: STORMCHASER

THIRTY-THREE: STORMCHASER

PART NINE: THE BEGINNING

THIRTY-FOUR: LINCOLN

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Copyright Page

The streets were packed, voices were angry, and Lincoln lowered his head as he tried to dodge through the crowds. Bony elbow after bony elbow jabbed into his sides. The faces around him were like his – gaunt. Food provisions were down yet again and the perpetually empty stomachs were making tempers flare.

He turned the corner and stopped dead. The crowd around the parliament building was a hundred deep. In a land where some of the other buildings were crumbling due to overcrowding and neglect, the parliament building still stood proud, like a snub to the entire, hungry nation. Set across huge thousand-year-old tree trunks and built with bricks the same colour as the reddy-brown bark, the round building looked as if it had grown out of the trees. Creeping vines and branches had wound their way around the outside. On other days, and in other circumstances, people might stop to admire the beauty of the building. But not today.

Lincoln skirted around the edges of the crowd, trying to weave his way towards the back doors of the parliament. It was hard work. The mood in the air was ugly. Starvation would do that to you.

For the briefest of seconds, one of the black-cloaked Stipulators appeared at the main entrance. For as long as Lincoln could remember, the Stipulators had governed Earthasia. Each of the four hundred zones had a Chief Stipulator who came and sat in parliament making the rules for the entire nation. Their word was law – or it had been. The roar from the crowd started almost immediately, with shouts and jeers of disgust.

“Give us more food!”

“We can’t live like this!”

The normally arrogant Stipulator baulked at the size and noise of the crowd, and turned back around. Lincoln stopped walking for a second. Was that fear in the Stipulator’s face? Surely not.

Crack. The guards at the parliament door flinched, as something flew from the crowd and hit the back of the Stipulator’s head.

He stumbled for a second, before turning around in disgust, clutching the back of his skull. One of the guards bent down and picked up an old worn boot, dangling it between two fingers. The crowd cheered as the Stipulator muttered under his breath to the guards.

It was clear he was telling them to pursue the assailant. But the guards weren’t stupid. In the past, they would have obeyed the Stipulator’s command without a word. But over the last few months, things had changed. For the first time in Lincoln’s lifetime, the stern rule of the parliament and the Stipulators had wavered.

People didn’t seem quite so afraid of them as they were before. The blistering plague that had previously meant death for a large part of the population was under control, thanks to the roots and leaves Lincoln and his colleagues had brought back from the neighbouring continent of Piloria six months ago. The plants had finally been encouraged to grow in the colder climate using special greenhouses and had been turned into a wonder treatment for the disease. But more people meant more mouths to feed, and crops were already at an all-time low. Overcrowding meant there was no land to grow food, and the land that was available had been overused and stripped of its nutrients.

After a few angry exchanges, and some awkward shaking of heads by the guards, the Stipulator stormed back inside the parliament building. Momentum was growing. This revolt had been building for days.

“Oof!” There was a sharp elbow to Lincoln’s face as he tried to push his way through the crowds.

“Watch it, boy,” growled a crooked-toothed man, stepping in front of him.

“Watch it yourself.” Lincoln shoved the man, trying to clear a path through the packed bodies.

He ignored the comments behind him and kept going. Piloria – the continent of the dinosaurs – had taught him many things. To not be afraid. To stand up for himself and those he loved. To not trust anyone. He’d grown muscles in places he didn’t know they could exist and developed a steely determination. With a final push, he reached the back door of the parliament.

“Lincoln Kreft for Octavius Arange.” The guard at the rear entrance blinked at the name of the Captain Regent and shot Lincoln a curious stare. Did he recognize him? Lincoln had brought home the cure for the blistering plague from Piloria. It wasn’t unusual for him to be recognized. Some people thanked him – some people cursed him. But the guard merely checked his name on a list, then sent him through the security checkpoint.

Inside the parliament was just as chaotic as outside. A swarm of angry black-cloaked Stipulators stood shouting at each other in the main foyer. Their aides, in pale blue, stood along the edges of the atrium, occasionally responding to an irate shout or gesture.

Lincoln sighed. The first time he’d come in here, he’d been amazed at the beauty of the building and terrified by the sight of so many Stipulators. For all his life these people had ruled unchallenged.

But the world he’d known was unravelling around him. Lies had been exposed, treachery revealed, and his own betrayal weighed heavily on his shoulders.

He moved across the atrium, avoiding the eyes of the most self-important Stipulator – Silas. The man was bellowing at the Stipulator opposite him – trying to belittle and intimidate him. But the other man’s chin was proudly tilted in the air as he fought back. Things were definitely changing around here.

Lincoln reached Octavius’s door and resisted the temptation to turn and walk away. This was the fourth time Octavius had summoned him to parliament. What now?

He knocked sharply.

“Enter!” a voice inside boomed.

Lincoln rolled his eyes and pushed the door open, closing it behind him to block out the din outside. Octavius was perched on his strangely shaped chair behind his impossibly high desk, his short legs dangling. From the first second Lincoln had met him, he’d been bewildered that such a loud voice could come from such a diminutive man.

Octavius scowled behind the reading aid perched on the end of his nose. His snow-white hair was pulled back from his face. Storm had mentioned once that when she’d met Octavius she’d been shocked. She’d never seen anyone this old, and neither had Lincoln. People in Earthasia generally didn’t live to an old age; they were wiped out by the lack of health care or the blistering plague.

“Where have you been?” snapped Octavius, as he jumped down from the high chair.

Lincoln tried to find some patience. “I’ve been exactly where I should be – in the lab helping replicate the cure.”

Octavius’s scowl deepened in his saggy face. He bustled past Lincoln and climbed a set of steps to his large bookcase.

“This is all your fault,” he muttered.

“What’s all my fault?”

Octavius waved a gnarled hand in the air. “The people outside. You bring home a cure with no thought to the consequences.”

Lincoln’s hackles raised. “I brought home a cure for my sister.”

Octavius pulled a large book from the shelf and tossed it at Lincoln. It was amazing how spending time on a continent of dinosaurs could heighten your senses. His hands instantly plucked the book from the air before it hit him in the face.

Octavius walked back down the steps and snatched the book from Lincoln’s hands as if that behaviour was entirely normal. “You left her,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You left her there.”

Lincoln pressed his lips together. For the past six months, the last glimpse he’d had of Storm – of her and her father standing on the beach of Piloria – had been imprinted on his brain.

“We’ve gone over this,” he sighed. “I didn’t want to leave her behind. She chose to stay. She chose to stay with her…father.”

It still felt odd using that word to describe the man who was the disgraced Chief Stipulator of Ambulus City. No one had known he was Storm’s father – not even Storm – until a few months ago.

Octavius turned angrily towards him. “And what will happen to her there? How can she survive, with barely any weapons? Nothing to protect her from the host of monsters who live there?” He held the book up, clutching it between his gnarled hands.

Lincoln stepped forward. Books were uncommon. They were a luxury that had vanished as the wood supplies had been depleted on the continent. Not enough space for people meant that trees had been surplus to requirements.

Lincoln couldn’t help himself. He reached out and touched the dark-blue cover with gold lettering. He’d never seen anything quite like it – even though he’d been here before, he’d never really had a chance to look at the books up close. Before Octavius could react, Lincoln had taken it from his hands.

“This is it,” he said, realization dawning. “This is the book Storm told me about.”

He laid it on the table and gently stroked his fingers over the lettering. The Continent of Monsters by Chief Stipulator Magnus Don. Lincoln turned to Octavius.

“This is the book you wanted her to update, isn’t it? The one I heard her and Reban talk about.”

Octavius’s face softened. He reached his thin hand over and flicked open the book. It landed on a page with a hand-drawn sketch of a roaring T-rex.

Lincoln shuddered. He didn’t need a reminder of what lived on Piloria. He’d experienced it all too vividly himself.

“She did update it,” Octavius said softly, “for the most part.” His hand was shaking slightly as he traced his fingers over the drawing. It was the first time Lincoln had seen any sign of vulnerability from the old man.

When Lincoln had first been in this room, Octavius had spent the whole time screaming at him for leaving Storm behind. He’d been so tempted to shout back. To tell Octavius how angry Storm had been when she’d found out that Octavius was her great-uncle and he hadn’t bothered to tell her. How hurt she’d been.

But that wouldn’t have helped anyone. Things were delicate enough. His sister, Arta, and Rune’s and Kronar’s brothers and sisters had all been ejected from the care facility. Storm and Lincoln’s first trip to the dinosaur continent had been a contest which Storm had won – but two of their friends, Rune and Kronar, had died. As the victor, Storm and her family were entitled to extra rations and health care, so, in an act of kindness, she’d declared their families were her own. But now Storm wasn’t here, all that was gone. Arta had been sent back to live with Lincoln and their mother in the caves. As for Rune’s and Kronar’s brothers and sisters? He had no idea. Lincoln could only hope they’d gone home to their parents in Norden.

The one plus point was that – because he worked at the lab – Lincoln had unlimited access to supplies of the ointment. Before Piloria, Arta had been on the brink of death. Now her skin looked almost completely better, even though she was thinner than before, thanks to the more restricted rations.

There was a loud noise from outside. Octavius’s frown deepened and, despite his slight frame, he moved swiftly to the door and yanked it open.

The bedlam from earlier had increased. Lincoln’s eyes widened as he looked across the atrium. The dark ominous doors on the other side were now wide open and the Chief Stipulators were shoving their way through into the large chamber beyond. The bright white of the parliament debating chamber was a startling contrast to the black cloaks of the Stipulators, but Lincoln’s eyes were drawn to the blood-red chair at the far end of the room.

Silas, the blond Chief Stipulator of Norden – who’d staged a coup against Storm’s father and now governed the capital, Ambulus City, as well as his own region – seemed to be leading the charge.

“Get me my cloak!” ordered Octavius, his voice booming beside Lincoln.

Lincoln jumped and looked around in surprise. “What?”

He still didn’t really understand the workings of the parliament, but Storm had told him Octavius was the Captain Regent. If anyone was in charge here, it seemed that it might be him.

“Over there!” bellowed Octavius, pointing him towards a drawer set in the wall. Lincoln walked over and opened it, pulling out a dark-green, heavy cloak. He shook it out and the gold trim reflected the light. Although it was heavy in his arms, it was small; perfectly sized for Octavius.

Octavius appeared in front of him, turning around so Lincoln could drape the cloak over his shoulders.

“Wait here,” he hissed, as he took off across the wide atrium.

Lincoln watched. He’d never seen the doors to the debating chamber open before. White seats lined the walls and the Chief Stipulators, each representing all the zones of Earthasia, settled into them. Lincoln frowned. Were all four hundred of them really here?

Octavius strode across the vast room and, using a small box, got up onto the red chair. There was a staff beside his seat, which he banged angrily on the floor.

Lincoln held his breath. The parliament doors were still wide open. Was this normal?

He could see some of the staff dressed in pale blue shaking their heads, sidling closer to the open doorway to watch.

“Who called this session?” shouted Octavius.

“I did,” said Silas haughtily. He turned to his right and grabbed hold of the man next to him. Even from here, Lincoln could see the Stipulator’s cloak was torn, his face bruised and his knuckles bloodied. “There has been a revolt in Tarribeth. Rufus barely made it out in one piece.” There was a collective intake of breath around the parliament. “The people are uncontrollable. It’s time to take a stand.”

One of the Chief Stipulators snorted. “And do what? We’ve already cut rations again. Our Stipulators barely have enough nutrition to stand on their own two feet.”

“Isn’t that what we’re trying to do? Starve the population into submission?” asked another Stipulator, who had the dark skin of the Lambora zone.

“And starve ourselves too?” sneered another.

“We need to get the ointment supplies under lock and key. The more people get treated, the more people there are to feed.”

One of the Stipulators turned to Silas and pointed his finger. “This is your fault, Silas. This happened on your watch. That lab was supposed to be focusing on dinosaur DNA. Instead, it starts to miraculously produce a cure for the blistering plague. A cure that has been replicated in all the other labs across the continent!”

Lincoln shifted uneasily. They were talking about his lab. The one he worked in. As soon as he’d got off the ship from Piloria, he’d headed straight there to place the samples he’d collected into Lorcan Field’s waiting hands. The head scientist had been as desperate for a cure as Lincoln – his own daughter had been dying from the blistering plague.

Lincoln had brought as much ointment as he could from Piloria, along with seedlings, plant samples and even dirt. In a matter of hours, the temperatures in the greenhouses had been turned up as high as possible to try to replicate the conditions on Piloria, and thanks to that, and the newly imported nutrients in the soil, the plants had started to grow quickly. The recipe for the ointment was simple – it was a combination of two plants from Piloria – and within a few weeks, his lab had produced its own first batch.

He hadn’t thought about the implications for the population. He hadn’t thought about how the people who previously would have died – and now would live – would be fed on an already starving continent.

He’d only been thinking about his sister, Arta.

His sister, who was now looking better than she had in years.

One of the other Stipulators got to his feet and shook his head. “You should have stopped this, Silas. Things have got out of hand. What happened to Rufus is on your head.”

It happened so quickly that Lincoln barely had time to blink. Silas crossed the parliament chamber and punched his colleague square in the jaw, sending him sprawling back onto the white chairs.

“How dare you challenge me? You, from Steroma. When was the last time your zone produced enough food to sustain your population? You’ve stolen from the rest of us for the last five years. We’ve been feeding your people, and all at a cost to our own populations.”

The crowd in the atrium were still moving, slowly but surely, closer to the parliament doors. It seemed that no one was bothered about keeping the business in parliament private this time. They could hear every word – and wanted to hear more.

Octavius banged his staff on the ground. “Order!”

For a few seconds there was silence. “Silas, you called this session. Do you have a solution to our current problems, or do you only wish to apportion blame?”

It didn’t matter that Octavius had a small and wizened body. He had the heart and mind of a warrior. And he wasn’t afraid to show it.

Silas turned back towards the accusing faces. “This situation is spiralling out of control. It can’t be allowed to continue. I suggest guards in the labs. The ointment will have to be rationed, along with food. Without the blistering plague, our population numbers are unsustainable.” The frown in his brow was deep. “We all know what happens next. If we don’t get things under control – there will be no other option.”

Silence in the parliament. There were a number of anxious glances, followed by a few murmurs.

Again, Octavius banged his staff on the ground. “Put plans in place to get your labs under control. We’ll reconvene in a few days.”

He jumped down from the bright-red chair and swept out of the chamber. As he strode through the atrium, the pale-blue uniforms parted in his wake. They all knew better than to question Octavius’s authority.

As he reached the door to his office, his sharp eyes met Lincoln’s. He gestured him back inside.

Lincoln followed warily, as Octavius’s movements slowed and he walked back over to the table, running his hand over the book of dinosaurs.

Lincoln’s insides were churning. Get the labs under control? That couldn’t be good for him, or for his sister. Arta was so much better now. But the ointment wasn’t a complete cure – even though everyone referred to it that way. It only kept things under control. But he’d brought the ointment here. He should be allowed to use it.

“I need that ointment,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Twice I’ve been on the dinosaur continent. None of the Stipulators have even set foot on it. I have a right to it. Arta has a right to it. She needs it. She won’t survive without it.”

He expected anger. He expected retribution. Instead, Octavius gave a tired wave of his hand. “None of us will survive,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the drawing of the T-rex.

There was something in the way he said those words. As if he knew a whole lot more than Lincoln did.

But of course he would.

Octavius’s jaw tightened. He spun around, his heavy cloak billowing out behind him as he faced Lincoln again.

He regarded Lincoln carefully for a few seconds – as if he were weighing up things in his mind, making decisions that Lincoln couldn’t know or understand. His voice was still low and his grey gaze was steady. “Promise me that when you get word, you won’t hesitate. You’ll get whoever is important to you, and get to the Invincible.”

“What?” It was the last thing Lincoln expected to hear. His brain couldn’t even begin to consider what the old man might mean.

Octavius raised one long wizened finger. “Not a word. Not a word to a single soul. Just be ready.” Then his expression changed back to his usual frown. “Or don’t,” he added, shrugging as he pushed past Lincoln and swept back out of the room.

Lincoln’s feet were rooted to the ground. His brain was spinning with a million possibilities – none of which were good. Was this why Octavius had called him here? “I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered.

“Shh,” whispered Reban as they crouched in the undergrowth.

“Don’t shush me,” Storm replied, her voice barely audible.

Reban shot her the glare she had long since become immune to, as the velociraptor continued to perch on its hind legs with its nose in the air. The red crest on its head stood to attention and the fearsome claws on its hind legs were digging into the earth at its feet.

It was searching for prey, balancing with its strong tail outstretched as it sniffed for a scent in the air that it had clearly locked on to. They could only hope it wasn’t theirs. Both of their faces were smeared with a strong paste made from the evergreen leaves that surrounded their dwelling. Blaine had assured them it threw the dinosaurs off the human scent. He’d used it on frequent occasions and managed to stay alive on Piloria for more than nine years.

Storm pressed her lips together and stared at the trampled earth beneath her feet. On more than one occasion in the last six months she’d wished Blaine were still here.

Blaine had been a former Stipulator, abandoned on Piloria as punishment after it was discovered he had a family – something forbidden for all Stipulators. He’d been expected to die, but he’d managed to survive on the continent of dinosaurs. However, Piloria had taken a toll on both his physical and mental health.

Storm’s father had been one of the Stipulators who agreed to Blaine’s punishment. So it was ironic really that nine years later he’d realized Storm was his daughter and he’d suffered the same fate and been banished to Piloria himself.

Blaine had blamed Reban for his years in exile, and the years he’d missed from his children’s lives. They’d hated each other. Even when Blaine had finally been reunited with his daughter, Jesa, things hadn’t gone quite to plan, and when Blaine had died, Jesa had been anxious to head back to Earthasia. She hadn’t had the option to stay with her father on Piloria like Storm had. But Storm often wondered what decision Jesa would have made, given the same choice.

The raptor tilted its head back and let out a loud caw. The hairs on the back of Storm’s neck prickled. Her father turned to her with anxious eyes. “We might need to run,” he mouthed to her. “I think they’ve managed to catch our scent.”

She swallowed, her mouth instantly dry, and nodded. The last six months living on Piloria had been a steep learning curve. One of survival. Because, on Piloria, survival was all that mattered.

On her first visit here, they’d suspected the raptors were communicating with each other – something no one had considered before. Dinosaurs were supposed to be mindless monsters, but that wasn’t what she’d seen. It wasn’t what she’d experienced. At times, she’d seen intelligent behaviour. Behaviour that frightened her. Particularly when it came from beasts that hunted humans for prey.

But in the last few months, things had been more pronounced. Now, she didn’t just think they might be communicating – she was certain.

There was another sound. A returning caw, followed by a more high-pitched squawk. The raptor’s head turned towards the sound. A moment later, it disappeared in the opposite direction from them.

Storm was still holding her breath.

The raptors looked different too. There was still one that was slightly larger than the rest of the pack. But the first time she’d seen them, the difference between the leader and the rest of the pack had been stark. Now, the rest of the pack seemed larger, stronger, like someone had fed them overnight and they had instantly filled out. Before, the smallest raptor’s hind leg had been about the same width as Reban’s thigh. Now? They looked like they’d all doubled in size.

Reban reached over and grabbed her arm, his eyes scanning the area around them. “They’re communicating. It’s time to get out of here. Wait for my signal, and then we’ll go.”

Storm knew he was only looking out for them both, but it grated to be ordered around by him. She still couldn’t get used to the idea that in order to survive on Piloria, she had to work in partnership with the man she’d initially hated.

After scanning the trees and bushes for a little while longer, Reban gave her arm a tug. She knew exactly what came next – they’d had to do it more than once.

She started sprinting in the opposite direction to the raptors. It was impossible to be quiet as she thrashed bushes and leaves out of her way, thudding through the jungle terrain. Reban’s footsteps were right behind hers. They didn’t speak, didn’t utter a single sound – they were being noisy enough.

Her heartbeat started hammering in her ears, her chest tight as she continued to run. It didn’t matter where they explored on the dinosaur continent, they’d learned they always needed to have a plan.

Trying not to get eaten was always the first priority. Trying not to get injured came a close second.

But things could happen in a split second on Piloria. Dinosaurs could appear in the blink of an eye. On a few occasions they’d had to split up, running in opposite directions, not quite sure if they would ever see each other again.

The first time it had happened, Storm had ended up in an area she was unfamiliar with. One wrong turn had meant she was lost for three days, with no water and only what she could forage in the forest to eat.

When Reban had finally found her, he’d roared at her so much that she’d started to believe he might actually care.

Their arrangement was unorthodox. How did you go from finding out someone was your father and hating them, to deciding to stay with them alone on the dinosaur continent? The truth was, her decision hadn’t all been about Reban – Piloria had called to her. This continent was so different. Green, with open spaces and plant life she’d never even seen before. It was so different from the cramped, grey world of Earthasia. From the first second she’d arrived, she’d been fascinated by the dinosaurs, both docile and fierce. She’d never wanted to steal their eggs and try to kill them. This was their continent, not hers, and she was grateful just to be here, learning as much as she could and living with freedom, even if it did mean unavoidable risks and danger.

There was a noise behind them; a caw that made her heart stop.

The raptors. They’d heard them. Or caught their scent.

“Go!” yelled Reban. His hand thumped on her back, urging her forward even though the muscles in her thighs were already burning.

There was a response to the original caw, followed by loud squawking. Oh no. How many were there? And how close?

Reban was almost shoulder to shoulder with her as they powered through the jungle, dodging tree roots and plants, leaping over obstacles in their way.

Storm had been here before. She’d been chased by raptors. They could move faster than she’d ever expected. Their strong hind legs could outpace any human. Last time around she’d escaped by climbing a tree, but the raptors’ skill set seemed to improve every day. She’d already seen some make a few attempts at climbing trees with lower branches – so, in order to be safe, Storm and Reban needed to find trees with higher branches only.

She scanned around frantically, trying to remember what was on the other side of this jungle. If she could work out what direction they were running in, she might have half a chance. But at this point, she had no clue.

Reban grabbed his backpack from his shoulder as they ran, unzipping it and reaching for something inside. Seconds later he pulled out a grappling hook and rope – something they generally used for climbing cliff faces.

Storm frowned. “They can climb,” she hissed as she ran. Her muscles were on fire. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up this pace.

A squawk behind her spurred her on. It sounded closer. Louder. She could now hear trampling noises in the jungle behind them as well. Another squawk made her start, but this time it was to their right.

Reban’s eyes were wide as he shot her a glance. They were being hunted like the prey they were.

It put everything into perspective. The fights she’d had with her father since she got here; arguments about food, clothing, weather and supplies. When there was only one other person to communicate with on an entire continent, it was obvious they would annoy each other. But when that person was her father, and there was a whole load of underlying resentment between them, things came bubbling to the surface much easier.

Reban shouldered Storm, pushing her to the left, towards some taller trees. “Move,” he growled.

She stumbled, only just managing to stop herself from falling.

Fury raced through her. To fall right now would mean death. The few seconds it would take to pick herself up would mean the raptors would be on top of her.

Storm opened her mouth to yell, just as Reban threw the grappling hook. He yanked her arm as the hook caught in the high branches of a tree above them.

“Move!” he screamed again, this time in her ear.

There were no low branches on this tree. Nowhere for her to start her climb.

For the briefest moment, her brain didn’t function. Reban had the rope in one hand and his other palm bent low, facing upwards. “Now!” he yelled.

She finally clicked, and put her foot on his hand, allowing him to boost her upwards on the rope. Her heart was still racing as she struggled to wrap her legs around it. She climbed often now she was living on Piloria, but usually the rope had another anchor point and was against a cliff face, rather than dangling in mid-air. This time it wasn’t even close enough to the tree trunk to give her some purchase.

Reban must have noticed her struggle, as suddenly the rope snapped taut, allowing her to steady herself and tighten her grip. Quickly, Storm started to pull herself up, arms first then legs.

It should have been easier than this, but the burn in her arms was all-consuming as she pulled up her full body weight time and time again and struggled to keep her legs wrapped around the rope. She stared downwards. Reban was holding the bottom of the rope tightly, giving her the anchor she needed to climb, his head scanning in every direction. There was a deafening caw just as her hand reached for the first high tree branch. Terror gripped her heart. She knew exactly what that meant.

“Climb!” she screamed.

The rope moved beneath her as Reban gripped it, trying to climb. But there was no one to anchor it for him and it swung wildly. She grappled with the tree branch, wrapping her arm around it, and trying to pull her leg up too as she let go of the rope. Her abdominals seemed to object, her legs not quite reaching and floundering in mid-air. The weight on her arms was overwhelming. She took a deep breath as the muscles in her arms screamed at her, and pitched her leg to catch the branch with the side of her foot. This time her boot caught and she hauled herself up, ending up completely horizontal on the branch.

Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. Now she had a completely clear view of the forest floor below.

The rope was flailing backwards and forwards, with Reban only part way up as the raptors emerged from the bushes. There were three of them. They barely paused, all crashing towards Reban as he swung on the rope. One of them caught the bottom of his foot with its teeth and Reban let out a roar.

“Move!” yelled Storm.

The only reason he was still down there was because he’d been helping her. It was the second time he’d saved her from the raptors. The first time had been at a watering hole when Leif, Jesa and Lincoln had still been here and they’d been planting the virus – the virus that had been supposed to kill the raptors off. But the raptors had returned unexpectedly and Reban had stayed behind to give Storm a chance to escape.

Neither of them had really acknowledged it at the time. Even now, six months later, they hardly seemed ready to talk about their relatively new relationship. But that vision of Reban glancing over his shoulder to let her run, while he stood there, gripping his weapon to try to fight off the raptors, had been imprinted on her brain.

It had been the first time since he’d arrived on Piloria that she’d witnessed pure and utter fear in his eyes.

Now she could see the muscles of his arms bulging as he tried to climb the rope. The raptors were furious. They crouched on their powerful back legs, leaping wildly in the air to try to catch hold of Reban.

Storm couldn’t breathe. She’d been in this position before, with Kronar – a fellow Finalist – on her first trip to Piloria. These creatures were intelligent. Last time around they’d chased her and Kronar up into one of the trees, then they’d actually tried to leap onto the lower branches of the tree. For a terrifying time it seemed like they might manage it. Thankfully, they’d tired of her and Kronar after a few hours, and finally left.

Reban had picked a tree where there were no lower branches, but it didn’t stop the raptors continuing to jump, as Reban swung just within their reach. From up here, Storm had a bird’s-eye view. She could see the short feathers on their skin and the three claws on each of their forearms. The bright-red crests on their heads were raised as their heads flicked from side to side, their caws and squawks differing in pitch. She could almost swear they were talking right now, trying to decide the best way to capture their prey. But it was the sickle-shaped claw on each foot that held the most danger. The largest of the raptors made another leap, higher than before, and this time its curved claw caught on Reban’s back.

Reban was tugged sharply down, one hand jerked from the rope. His head flew backwards, his mouth open as he let out a cry of pain.

“Hold on!” screamed Storm. Her heart was racing in her chest and tears sprang to her eyes. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready for this.

She wasn’t ready to watch her father die before her. She wasn’t ready to be alone on the dinosaur continent.

Reban seemed to flounder in the air. She could see blood drip onto the ground. It was almost as if it fired the raptors on. Their cawing got louder, their movements more frenetic. She’d heard of sharks sensing blood in water. Were dinosaurs the same? Could their senses be heightened by the smell of blood?

Reban’s flailing hand came into contact with the rope again and this time it was as if he’d had a huge shot of adrenaline. His face was clenched and his arms and legs powered upwards, heaving him towards her. She reached out, grabbing at the edge of his vest as he came within reach.

Relief was already flooding through her. It didn’t matter that she was stuck up a tree. It didn’t matter that she had no idea how they would get to safety. All that mattered was that she wasn’t alone.

Reban’s face was bright red, and the veins on his neck were standing out. He swung one leg up onto the branch next to her and slid himself along, mirroring her position by wrapping his arms around the thick branch as he almost collapsed onto it.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

The yellow rope swung underneath them. It seemed to taunt the raptors, who continued to jump at it, their cawing high-pitched and angry. Storm watched as a few more drops of blood landed on the ground beneath them.

“Let me see,” she said, wondering just how bad his wound was.

Reban winced and shook his head. His jaw was tight, as if he were attempting to keep all the pain inside. “Don’t move. You’re not anchored. You could slip.”

She’d already almost slipped, but he’d missed that. She strengthened her grip on the branch and nodded her head. “Okay. Let’s give them a minute and see if they get bored.”

The biggest raptor started clawing at the ground where the blood had landed. She’d seen raptors on several occasions and been pursued by them a few times, but something felt off.

“What do you think?” she asked Reban.

Reban let out a long, slow breath. “I think they’re on the move. The raptors seem to be getting closer and closer to our shack. They’re not normally this far from the nest sites.” He wrinkled his nose as he winced again. “And there’s something different about them too. They seem more…” He kept watching as he tried to find the right words. “It’s almost as if their senses have been heightened.”

That was it. He’d nailed it. That was exactly what was different.

“Well, the virus doesn’t seem to have worked, does it?” Storm kept watching them too. “Apart from that first one we found in the forest, none of the raptors appear to have died. I don’t know. They seem almost…stronger. The big one, the leader, it seemed to jump higher than I remember from before.” She paused. “I thought it was going to get you.”

Reban’s violet eyes met hers. “Me too.” He pressed his lips together. “Do you think we caused this? Instead of the virus actually killing them, do you think it could be responsible for the changes we’re noticing? Have we made them stronger? Made them into killing machines?”

Storm shivered. “Don’t. That’s too terrifying for words.” She took a moment. “They were already killing machines,” she said softly, as memories of previous attacks filled her head. “They’re predators. They just seem to be getting better at it.”

Reban shook his head and winced as he shifted on the thick branch. “I don’t like it. We need to face facts. Even though they heard us running at the end, before that? I’m pretty sure they had tracked us. They seemed to be able to smell us, even though we’re covered in this green muck.” He wiped some from his bare arm in disgust. “The evergreen leaves don’t seem to be having the same effect they did before. That’s a definite development since we first met them.” He gestured below. “And look at their reaction to blood. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Storm nodded in agreement. “The first time they chased Kronar and me, we escaped up a tree. They jumped at the lower branches but that was it.” She met her father’s gaze. “Last time they chased us, they practically scaled up those lower branches. It’s like they’ve learned something new. And they keep on learning.”

The three raptors were still scraping around the bottom of the tree. They kept cawing – it felt eerily like a conversation – and looking upwards. It lasted for more than hour, longer than Storm had ever seen a raptor communicate before. She could swear there was pure anger and frustration in their eyes and in their squawks.

Of course it was wrong to try to project human thoughts and behaviours onto a relatively unknown species, but she couldn’t help the way her brain was working. Storm said the words out loud. “Blaine stayed in the shack for nine years with the evergreen smell protecting him from predators.”

Reban rested his face back down on the branch. “And we’ve been here six months and already we’re in trouble.” He was stating the obvious. It was clear he was having the same kind of thoughts as her. He held up his hand. “The only thing that has changed here is what we’ve done. We tried to introduce the virus. It might have worked for the T-rex and the pterosaurs, but something’s gone wrong with the raptors. I don’t think we should hang about here much longer.”

Storm let out a wry laugh. “I’m not sure we’re ever getting down from this tree.”

He nodded. “We might need to pull the rope up and tie ourselves to the tree for the night.” He frowned. “Well, it seems we were lucky last time they chased us up a tree – they got distracted by duckbills running past. This time? Who knows? How long were you stuck up the tree with Kronar?”

“From afternoon until early evening. They might not seem patient, but they have tenacity. It took them a long time to finally leave.”

He ran one hand through his hair. “It’s almost like they were searching for us.”

Her heart flipped. She’d noticed things too. Of course she couldn’t say whether their brain power had increased, but if the virus had enhanced their bodies, perhaps it had improved their minds and their senses too. Velociraptors had always been skilled predators, had always been a terrifying opponent. But now…

Instead of killing them, had the virus done something to make them worse?

Storm put her head down on the branch again and shifted her hips. Might as well get comfortable. She could be here for a while…

The sun was low in the sky before the lead raptor eventually tired of the prey in the trees. It was apparent that some other type of creature had made its way into this part of the jungle as all three raptors’ heads turned sharply at a distant noise.

Two of the raptors – who were obviously bored – made off almost instantaneously, but the last one, the leader, took a few more seconds. It scratched at the ground and looked upwards once more, with something almost like a haughty stare. Its eyes sent a chill down Storm’s spine as she read the unspoken message there: I’ll still get you. Then it turned and sped off through the jungle, following the squawks of the others.

Reban didn’t hesitate. “We go, and we go now.” He glanced across at her as he threw down the yellow rope again. “And I don’t care how sore or stiff you are. You run like they’re chasing you. Once we hit that ground, keep your knives in your hands and don’t look back.”

She wanted to stop and check his injury, but now was their chance to move – it would have to wait a bit longer.

Reban shifted position, swinging his legs so he was sitting on the branch, ready to grab the rope. He waited until she’d done the same. “Ready?”

Storm nodded. He took the rope in his hands, wound his legs around it, then almost slid downwards. She winced, imagining the rope burn on the palms of his hands. She tugged on the nearest leaf, ripping it from a branch, and using it to shield her own hands, before mimicking his moves.

By the time she reached the bottom of the rope, the leaf had disintegrated but her palms were intact. She pulled out her knives from the sheaths at her waist. Reban gave her one glance, then took off through the trees.

Storm followed, letting her legs power through the squelchy undergrowth. She didn’t have time to protect herself from leaves and branches, instead tucking her head low against her chest and keeping her eyes on Reban’s feet to give her a sense of direction. Reban’s strides were long and her legs were struggling to keep up with his. Over the last six months her physical strength and speed had improved. They’d had to – it was the only way to survive on Piloria. But now her chest was tight, her lungs desperately trying to suck in enough air to send oxygen and blood pumping around her body.

The foliage started to thin and they burst out onto a grassy plain. Finally, she recognized their surroundings.

Ahead of them was another part of the jungle, their part of the jungle. Her senses were on high alert, listening for any sounds behind them that might indicate they were being chased – but there were none. Now they were in the open, she lifted her head.

And stumbled immediately. Reban’s injury was now in clear view and much worse than she’d imagined. The deep wound, dug out by the large claw of the lead raptor, had torn a huge and angry strip right down the middle of his back. Any part of the cut that had clotted while they were hiding in the tree must have been released again, disturbed by their movement, as the blood was flowing freely. She looked behind her. On the grass, she could see a clear trail of blood leading back to the forest behind them. It was like a guiding light for any predator who might happen upon it.

Focus