He awoke to the sound of screaming.

Immediately he bolted upright, looking around in the darkness. Shouts and yells filled the air from all sides. Taemin felt dread trickle down his spine, sleep forgotten.

Something was very, very wrong.

“Jongin,” he whispered; then, “Jongin!” Taemin crawled over to the other side of the tent, urgently shaking awake the sleeping form of his friend. Jongin stirred, and Taemin quickly reached over to open the flap of the tent. A horrific sight met his eyes.

Wildcats streaked across the camp, tearing tents open with their lethal claws and filling the air with blood-chilling roars. The Islanders, caught unawares, were doing their best to fend off the terrifying creatures—but who knew how long they would last?

Taemin turned back to Jongin, who had finally sat up and was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Wuhhz goin’ on?” he asked groggily, but before Taemin could answer, a flash of orange leapt from out of nowhere and tore down an entire section of their tent.

The wildcat snarled at them, saliva dripping from its bared fangs. Taemin and Jongin stared in paralyzed horror at the monster before them. It looked like an ordinary animal, except for one thing—its eyes glinted a strange, robotic red. It’s not real flashed through Taemin’s mind.

A millisecond later, he realized that its mechanized gaze was focused not on him, but on Jongin. And Jongin was staring back at it in frozen terror, unable to move. An image of Jongin’s scar suddenly appeared in Taemin’s head, and he realized instantly that Jongin was having a flashback to the last time he’d encountered a wildcat. The boy was in a state of trauma.

Taemin opened his mouth to yell a warning, but it was too late—the wildcat reared up on its hind legs, bringing them down in one deadly slash. Jongin fell backwards, a little cry escaping his lips, and then he was still.

Taemin’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, and he scrambled over to Jongin on his hands and knees, unable to process what was happening. “No,” he murmured, gathering the boy up in his arms. He pulled his hand away and felt something wet and sticky—blood. “No!” he repeated, looking around desperately.

The camp was still in chaos, but it looked as though the wildcats were beginning to retreat. The Islanders were beating them back into the jungle with various sticks and branches, Kibum among them. “And stay out!” the boy shrieked, waving his makeshift weapon threateningly in the air.

“Kibum!” Taemin cried, and the elder’s head whipped around in his direction. “Help me!”

Kibum’s gaze dropped to the sight of Jongin’s limp body, and his eyes widened. “What the hell happened!” he shouted, dropping his weapon and hurrying over immediately. He hoisted Jongin up by the arms, and Taemin followed his example, grabbing the boy’s feet.

“What does it look like?” Taemin exclaimed, panic lacing his voice. “He got attacked by one of the wildcats and it all happened so fast and—’’

“Don’t worry, Taemin, it’s gonna be alright,” Kibum interrupted in an uncharacteristically gentle voice, gazing at Taemin with what he recognized as pity.

They stopped, and Taemin looked around dazedly to see that they had reached the Four’s tent. Together they set Jongin’s body down on top of the table, and Kibum immediately rushed over to the cabinet in the corner.

“Wrap something around his wound to slow the bleeding!” he yelled over his shoulder, and Taemin quickly tore open Jongin’s shirt, wincing as he saw the fresh scratches. They crossed over Jongin’s older scars in a series of perfect X’s, bleeding profusely. Pulling off his own shirt, Taemin quickly wrapped it around Jongin’s torso, biting his lip anxiously as he did so. “Please,” he whispered, staring at Jongin’s pale face. “Please be okay.”

“Hey, is everything—’’ Minho’s voice trailed off as he pulled open the flap of the tent, taking in the scene. His face immediately drained of color, and he quickly stepped inside, reaching the table in two long strides. “What happened?” he said, aghast.

“He’s been attacked,” Taemin repeated, his voice quivering as he spoke. His breath began coming in short gasps, and he clutched at the table, struggling to speak. “He’s been attacked, and it’s all my fault.”

Kibum hurried back to them with something clutched in his hand. He unwrapped Taemin’s shirt from around Jongin and uncorked a vial, pouring its contents generously over the scratch. “It’s a serum that the raft brou—used to bring,” Kibum explained, his brow furrowed in concentration. “It worked on Jongin last time.” Then his eyes flickered up to Taemin, and his expression morphed into one of alarm.

“Taemin,” he said, dropping the vial and placing both hands on the younger’s shoulders. “Taemin, breathe.”

Taemin’s face had gone pale, and when he tried to inhale his lungs felt trapped. “All…my fault,” he whispered, his eyes wide and unseeing.

“He’s having a panic attack. Minho, help me!” Kibum exclaimed, turning hastily back to Jongin as the latter emitted a small moan. Minho quickly took Kibum’s place in front of Taemin and placed his hand under the boy’s chin, lifting it up firmly to meet his stricken eyes.

“Taemin, listen to me,” Minho said, his voice deep and soothing. “It’s not your fault.”

“I couldn’t…help him,” Taemin gasped out, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Minho placed his hand on Taemin’s cheek, patting it urgently.

“Hey,” he repeated, gazing at Taemin earnestly. “Listen—Jongin’s going to be fine; it’s not a deep cut. Okay? He’s going to be just fine.”

And at last Taemin could breathe again, air flooding into his lungs immediately. He fell forward against Minho, coughing and gasping, and the older boy rubbed his back reassuringly. Over Taemin’s shoulder Minho met Kibum’s eyes, and the latter gave him a grateful look as he said, “That’s right, Taemin; Jongin’s going to be fine. In fact, he’s doing better already. See?”

Trembling, Taemin turned to look. His eyes widened when he saw that the pallor had gone from Jongin’s cheeks, replaced with healthy, ruddy color. Jongin’s breathing was slow and steady.

“He’s asleep,” Kibum said kindly, placing a comforting hand on Taemin’s shoulder. “By the time he wakes up tomorrow, he’ll be good as new.”

◊◊◊

Taemin left the tent, shaken and dazed.

Kibum had sent him away, telling him to get some rest, and he made his way through the camp on wobbly legs. All around him tents were being repaired, and boys tended to their cuts and scratches with winces and grimacing. Fortunately no one else had been seriously injured—a miracle, Minho had said.

But somehow, Taemin couldn’t summon the strength to feel grateful. All he felt was numbness. Numbness—save for the horrible guilt eating away at his conscience.

Thanks to him, Jongin had nearly died. No matter how many times Kibum repeated that it wasn’t a serious scratch, Taemin still couldn’t forget the sight of that ferocious wildcat rearing up on its haunches, ready to bring its claws down over Jongin’s frail little body. He clenched his fists, feeling horribly weak and helpless. Why hadn’t he stopped it? How could he have let that wildcat attack Jongin?

Suddenly voices drifted into hearing range, coming from the direction of a nearby tent, and Taemin stopped to listen. He recognized Jonghyun’s voice as the elder said, “…wonder why the wildcats attacked?”

“It’s certainly never happened before,” someone—probably Jinki—agreed.

 “Considering it happened so soon after the empty raft arrived, you don’t suppose the two events are…related, do you?” Jonghyun asked. And Taemin’s heart froze in his chest.

Because what with all that had happened that night, Taemin had nearly forgotten about the raft. And now it all came flooding back to him, grim and heavy, filling him with dread. No more food or supplies. No more signs of any life beyond the Island.

All his fault.

And in that moment, Taemin knew what he had to do. A sudden peace filled him as he stood there, his breath escaping his lips in a long exhale. Of course. The answer was simple.

Since everything had started going wrong after he’d arrived, all he had to do was leave.