Wilderness Survival Fiction Books Mga Nobela at Kwento

I would even get to sleep in a bed, albeit a cramped, uncomfortable one. I could spend one night out there, and then either walk or hitch a lift into town the next morning. It wouldn’t be too bad. I had been in worse situations. Sliding open the door at the side of my camper, I stepped inside. My hands reached for things without even thinking about it. The crocheted throw was thrown onto the grass behind me as my hands curled around the new bottle of Jack Daniels wedged down the back of a chair. I wasn’t a big drinker, but I always had a bottle to hand. Something I had learnt from my father. Daddy dearest always had a bottle stashed for emergencies.

He chuckled as if to say we hadn't even heard half of it, "And then there was the time I got lost in a snowstorm. I had to take shelter in a cave, and I spent the night huddled next to a fire, listening to the wolves howl outside." Aiden's voice piped up in curiosity. Tonight, he insisted on staying close to my side and I thought it was nice of him. "How did you manage to survive?" Mr. Jenkins grinned, "Well, I've spent years honing my wilderness skills. I know how to navigate, find food, and start a fire without matches. But I'll tell you, it was a harrowing experience." As he spoke, I was captivated by his stories. The whole room listened with rapt attention, our imaginations transported t

The air felt heavier now, as if it carried more than moisture—something invisible and watching. His backpack lay half-buried in the sand, soaked but intact. He fished out the leather-bound notebook he’d carried everywhere since he was thirteen—the one with the stories, the nightmares, the dreams he could never fully explain. Inside were drawings of forests that bled, oceans that whispered, and a woman with hollow eyes and hands covered in roots. He had drawn her before he ever heard of WildWood. Before he heard the name Emily. Before he knew that she was family.

The smell of wet forest after a long rain and sun heated honey, wakes me from my sleep. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to escape by now, but nothing I do seems to work. More and more wolves are going missing, if Tam’s growing hysteria is anything to go by.

The forest became my world, a shifting maze of trees and shadows where I learned what it meant to survive. I drank from cold streams, stole warmth from abandoned dens, and ate what I could trap or forage. My wolf, weakened by rejection, stirred sluggishly inside me, but she was there. We leaned on each other the way wounded things do. She lent me strength when my body failed and I gave her hope when despair crept close. Days blurred into nights. I learned to hide my scent, rolling in river mud, masking it with crushed herbs and wild mint. I learned the ways of rogues: how to move without leaving prints, how to listen for danger in the spaces between silence.

Finn, the apparent leader of this abduction, leaned down over her, his eyes gleaming in the light of the fire. “There’s no one to hear you scream, and if you utter a sound, I’ll rattle your jaw.” She nodded her understanding and crawled to an upright position. He nudged her backside with his boot and chuckled when she whirled around in outrage. “There’s a blanket by the fire. Get on it and get some sleep. We leave at first light.”

I shall sleep often from now on; my body needs all the rest it could get. I can’t sleep again. I just woke up. “What to do now?” My eyes landed at the closed book on my table. It’s the book from the library that is about the town of Emberton. I haven’t found anything informative other than the map and the founders of the town. Maybe I should just head out? Nope. Not a good idea. Being outside is too risky. I don’t want another wolf pouncing at me or me unintentionally killing them with my blood.

Why wasn’t I more excited about it? I could make light and I could start a fire. And I could heal! Those three things made survival in the wilderness, even a fantasy wilderness, possible. Of course, anyone can live off the land, that’s what we were designed to do, but if you’ve ever watched one of those TV shows where they teach you how to start a fire with twigs, it should be clear that not only is it very tricky, it’s also incredibly tedious.

In the gaps, I shoved in small branches and leaves. For warmth, I used the thick fox fur I had been lucky to find a few weeks into my hike through the wilderness. The dead fox had taken its last breath and I had received something warm to cover me partially and some food to feed me for a few days. It was almost negligible, but I survived. Had I tried going into the human concentrated areas? I had. And then I heard rumors about the White Claw Pack putting a bounty on my head. I quickly went back into the safety of the forest… never to emerge.

who knew that he was the bad omen for me! ****************************** Just When It Seems Like Life is Getting Good, Something Always Has to Come Along And Ruin It. ************************* Names of places are fictional