Wilderness Survival Books Fiction Novels & Stories

The crackling fire danced to its own rhythm, offering her warmth and a glimmer of hope. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, a constant reminder of her vulnerable state. She embarked on a foraging expedition, her senses heightened as she scoured the forest floor for edible sustenance. Berries, nuts, and wild herbs became her meager sustenance, fueling her determination to survive. One day, as she ventured deeper into the forest, a serendipitous encounter changed the course of her solitary existence. A man, weathered by the elements, emerged from the depths of the trees. His eyes held a warmth and kindness that spoke of a life lived in harmony with nature.

Wild Addiction volume 2. I never knew true addiction until I met her. I never truly understood what it is to crave, mind, body, and soul—until nothing mattered but fulfilling that craving. Until the only thing that mattered was easing the hollow space inside me. It was there whenever we’re apart. Like a dark hole, it lingered, intensifying until my mind was full of dark spots. Until my mind was full of easy curves, bare before me. Until my desires reflected her, bending at the waist, her pert, little arse in the air, colored red by my palm, the outline of my fingers visible against her pale skin.

I dump my bag on the floor and read through the shelf while pulling books out and mumble as I go. ‘Even a book can be dangerous in the wrong hands.’ ‘Ignite.’ ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here.’ ‘You’ll make bad choices. Sometimes you’ll choose the best of bad ones.’ ‘Tuesday is Fucked.’ ‘Everything’s a game. And now it’s your turn.’ I have a stack of about 10 books before I abruptly stop. "Next isle." I say and we walk up and down the library isles. I climb and jump to get books off of shelves and Aidan has to catch me a couple of times when I fell.

The force of gravity in the room seemed to suddenly increase, threatening to drag her to the floor. Get over it. You knew damn well this was going to happen. Just . . . move on. She looked over her shoulder to finally take in the rest of the space. Her father’s bed lay inside one of the corners, the mattress a size too small for a man of his height and covered with the same camo blanket that rested on her own. A large bookcase lined one wall, its contents a hodgepodge of classic and paranoid—“Survivalist,” Emma corrected herself—literature. She scanned the titles. Finding Tom Sawyer and The Anarchist’s Cookbook resting beside each other conjured demented scenes of the scamp lobbing improvise

Gerey stood up - Jeyrin still concealed in the dark of the library desk, and went to a rack of books. ‘GEOGRAPHY AND FAIRYTALE SECTION’ spelled at the top of the shelf and as Gerey scanned from book to book, he remembered a few he'd read at school, ‘Knowing Wabrook's Water Brooks and Bodies’ by Whitaker Flarogue, ‘Sunset at Ingfalls’ by Simponie Gugh, ‘The best habitat for all - Ingfalls - Book One’ by Cuulambs Nicktra, but they were not what he searched for.

Now that I’d mostly learned how to translate his crappy handwriting, I was able to slowly pick my way through it. The first page described him… Writing a book? My gaze jerked back to the spare room and then dipped back to the journal to keep reading. The next few pages were about his pack buddies and his family. He seemed close to them. Then his book was mentioned again. Insurrection. I dropped the journal again, and crossed the hallway yet another time, stopping in front of the bookshelf. My eyes scanned the many, many books, until… Insurrection. Bingo. I grabbed the paperback off the shelf, and my eyes scanned the cover. It had a snake and a skull and looked kind of epic, definitely someth

To go straight into the jaws of the wolf hunting her down. Not a fucking chance. I reacted before she could. I lunged, slamming into her with enough force to send us both off the cliff. The world yanked sideways. Wind howled past my ears. Elise twisted midair, her wolf’s body writhing against mine, claws raking at my fur, fangs snapping dangerously close to my throat. Instinct ruled her now—pure, unchecked survival. The moment stretched, endless. Wind howled past us, the ground disappearing beneath our paws, nothing but open air and the cold abyss below.

I ran my fingers along the spines and chose one at random. I spent the afternoon wrapped in a blanket, reading tales of old Velmora legends, of star-bonded wolves and rivers that whispered prophecy. They were unlike the dark, distorted stories I read in Crimson Dusk. These weren’t just stories, they were songs, prayers, and truths wrapped in poetry.

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For a second, I’m tempted, but then another wave of heat erupts in my chest, and I lose my nerve. “Tell me about the other books,” I say instead. “The other books?” I nod. And as I tuck my knees to my chest and wind my free arm around my knees, breathing through the stuffiness that’s getting more unbearable by the minute, I listen to the most garbled plot summaries I’ve ever heard in my entire life. “Okay. See, there’s this one with a man and his nephew. And they journey to the center of the earth. And there are dinosaurs. And a tornado? Shit—” The brow furrows again. “It might have been a tsunami. Something like that.”