The morning air at the Luxury Suite was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and expensive espresso, but the atmosphere inside was sub-zero. Heather sat at the head of a long, polished mahogany dining table, her fingers white-knuckled around a porcelain cup. She wasn't eating. Instead, she spent the morning staring at Gwen and Ezekiel with pure, unadulterated venom. The loss of Lindsay the night before had hit her harder than she cared to admit—not out of friendship, but because her wall of protection was crumbling.
"Enjoy the silk sheets while you can," Heather hissed, her voice a jagged blade. "Because today, the game resets. I don't care who I have to step on, but I am reclaiming control of this island."
Gwen didn't even look up from her plate of eggs Benedict. "You say that every Tuesday, Heather. It's getting a little repetitive."
Before Heather could retort, the giant plasma screen in the lounge flickered to life. Chris McLean appeared, lounging in a hammock with a drink in his hand.
"Morning, campers! Hope you enjoyed the horror show last night. I know the producers did!" Chris chuckled. "Today's challenge is a tribute to Mother Nature... and her ability to bite back. We've randomly assigned each of you a specific animal indigenous to Wawanakwa. Your job: capture it and bring it back to the campfire—unharmed. The first one back with their target wins. The prize? A five-course gourmet meal prepared by a five-star chef, served right here in the suite."
The screen changed to show a list of the campers and their assigned prey.
* Gwen: Peregrine Falcon
* Ezekiel: Snowy Owl
* Heather: Skunk
* Duncan: Wild Boar
* Courtney: Raccoon
* DJ: Giant Snapping Turtle
* Izzy: Legendary Jackalope (or, as Chris clarified, a very fast hare with antlers glued to it)
Gwen looked at her list and sighed, leaning back into her plush chair. "A Peregrine Falcon? It's the fastest bird on earth. How am I supposed to catch a falcon without hurting it? It'll see me coming from a mile away."
Ezekiel stepped up, his survival instincts already recalibrating. He didn't look at the luxury around him; he looked toward the window, sensing the wind. "You don't chase a falcon, Gwen. That's how you get your eyes pecked out, eh. You make it want to come to you. Patience is the only trap that works on a raptor."
He gestured toward the industrial-sized refrigerator. "We can use some of the leftover wagyu steak from last night's dinner as bait. Falcons are hunters, but they aren't above a free meal if it looks fresh."
While Ezekiel coached Gwen on how to remain perfectly still—explaining the "statue" technique hunters use to mask their presence—the rest of the island was descending into chaos.
Out in the muddy wetlands, DJ was staring in horror at a massive, prehistoric-looking Snapping Turtle. The turtle hissed, its beak snapping with the force of a bear trap.
"I can't do this, man," DJ whimpered, backing away as the turtle lunged forward with surprising speed. "He looks like he wants to eat my soul! I'm sorry, Mr. Turtle! I'll leave you alone!"
Meanwhile, Izzy was having the time of her life. She was sprinting through the thick brush, howling like a wolf as she chased a confused hare that had plastic antlers duct-taped to its head.
"Come here, you mythical beast! I need your magic for my stew!" Izzy leapt over a fallen log, performing a mid-air somersault that would have impressed an Olympic gymnast, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.
Deep in the darker parts of the woods, Heather was losing her mind. She had tracked her skunk to a hollow stump.
"Come here, you disgusting little rodent," Heather commanded, poking a stick into the hole. "I have a career to maintain! Get in the cage!"
The skunk, unimpressed by Heather's social status, didn't wait. It turned around, lifted its tail, and delivered a direct hit. The scream that erupted from Heather's throat was so loud it startled birds three miles away. She was covered in a thick, yellowish mist that smelled like burning rubber and rotten eggs.
"CHRIS! I AM GOING TO SUE YOU INTO THE STONE AGE!" she shrieked, gagging as the scent took hold of her clothes and hair.
At the edge of a trash heap near the cabins, Courtney was attempting a different tactic. She had her CIT handbook open and was pointing a finger at a raccoon that was currently eating a discarded bean can.
"According to Section 4, Paragraph B of the Camper Conduct Code, you are required to surrender for the purposes of a sanctioned challenge!" Courtney barked.
The raccoon stopped eating, looked at Courtney, and then—with lightning speed—snatched the expensive gold watch off her wrist.
"HEY! That's a family heirloom!" Courtney screamed, lunging for the animal. The raccoon hissed, bit her shoe, and vanished into a hollow log, leaving Courtney face-down in the dirt, fuming with indignity.
Back at the highest cliff on the island, the sun was beating down. Gwen sat on a jagged rock, her back straight, her breathing shallow. Following Ezekiel's quiet instructions from the bushes nearby, she had placed the strips of steak on a flat stone three feet in front of her.
"Don't blink, eh," Zeke whispered from the shadows. "If you move even a finger, he'll think you're a predator. You gotta be the rock."
Gwen waited. Her legs were cramping, and a fly was buzzing near her ear, but she didn't move. She focused on the horizon. Suddenly, a shadow swept over the ground. A Peregrine Falcon circled above, its sharp eyes locked on the red meat.
The bird descended like a feathered bullet, landing with a sharp thud on the stone. It looked at Gwen, its head tilting with suspicion. Gwen remained a statue. The falcon began to eat. Slowly, with agonizing precision, Gwen reached for the soft mesh net hidden in the grass.
With one fluid motion—faster than she thought she was capable of—she cast the net. The falcon let out a sharp cry but was safely entangled.
"I did it!" Gwen whispered, her heart soaring. "Zeke, I actually did it!"
She brought the bird back to the campfire, where Chris was waiting with a stopwatch. She was the first one back.
"Winner, winner, gourmet dinner!" Chris announced. "Gwen takes the prize! As for the rest of you... get to the campfire. We have a lot to talk about."
As evening fell, the seven remaining campers gathered. Gwen was glowing with her win. Ezekiel sat by her side, looking proud. Izzy arrived covered in mud but holding her "Jackalope" by the ears. DJ arrived empty-handed and trembling. Heather was sitting twenty feet away from everyone else because the smell was so unbearable that even the bugs were staying away from her.
But the real tension was between Duncan and Courtney. Duncan had returned with a Wild Boar tied to a pole, looking bored. Courtney, however, was missing her watch, had a hole in her shoe, and was looking for someone to blame.
Heather had spent the last hour whispering. She had rallied Izzy, DJ, and Courtney. She was certain. She felt the wooden "statue" in her pocket—the one she had "found" in the woods—and smirked through the stench of skunk spray.
"The person leaving tonight," Chris started, holding a tray of marshmallows. "With a record-breaking six votes... is Duncan."
Duncan didn't stand up. He didn't even stop whistling. He reached into his heavy combat boot and pulled out the real Invincibility Statue, the firelight dancing off the intricate, dark carvings.
"Actually, Chris," Duncan smirked, tossing the statue into the air and catching it. "I'd like to play this. Pretty sure it means I'm going nowhere."
The camp went dead silent. Heather's hand flew to her pocket, pulling out her piece of wood. She looked at Duncan's statue, then at her own, which was clearly just a branch carved to look like a man. Her face turned a ghastly shade of gray.
"You... you low-life thief!" Heather shrieked, her voice cracking. "That's MY statue! You stole it from my bunk!"
"Finders keepers, Princess," Duncan retorted, his eyes cold. "Maybe next time, don't leave your 'invincibility' in a place where a criminal can find it. By the way, thanks for the votes. It was a nice workout for my ego."
Chris shrugged, looking at the statue. "Yep, that's the real deal. All six votes for Duncan are officially nullified. According to the rules, the person with the next highest amount of votes is eliminated."
Chris looked at the second tray of votes. "With only two votes cast against her... Courtney, it's time to go."
Courtney stood up so fast her stool tipped over. "WHAT?! No! This is a gross violation of my rights! I am a CIT! I have a legal strategy for the finale! You cannot let a common criminal steal a game-changing advantage and then kick out the most qualified competitor on this island!"
"The boat's waiting, Courtney," Chris pointed toward the dock. "And honestly, the raccoon called. He wants to know if you have a matching necklace for that watch."
As Courtney was dragged toward the Boat of Losers, screaming about lawsuits and calling her father's legal team, the balance of power on the island finally shattered.
Heather sat on her stump, trembling with fury. She was alone. Lindsay was gone. Courtney was gone. Her "invincibility" was a lie, and Duncan had just humiliated her in front of everyone. She looked at Gwen and Ezekiel, who were sharing a quiet, victorious glance.
6 contestants remain: Gwen, Heather, Ezekiel, Duncan, Izzy, and DJ.
The lone wolf was cornered, and for the first time, Heather was truly afraid.