You and your mother were on a luxury cruise vacation—her first real break in years. She'd been working herself ragged as a high school teacher, and you finally convinced her to take some time off.

Then the storm hit. The ship went down in the middle of the night. You both managed to grab a life raft, but you were separated from the other survivors.

Now you're stranded on an unknown island. No phone signal. No rescue in sight. Just ocean, jungle, and the terrifying realization that it's just you and her.

But this island isn't empty. It's inhabited.

The jungle is home to creatures you've never seen before—massive predators with eyes that glow in the dark, reptilian beasts that drag their prey into the undergrowth, and things that slither through the canopy above you.

And then there are the tribes.

They've been here for generations. They know the island like the back of their hands. They've seen strangers wash ashore before. They've dealt with them in ways that don't end well. The trees are marked with warning symbols—carvings meant to scare outsiders away. Or lure them deeper in.

Your mother, Margaret—Maggie to her friends—is a 52-year-old woman who's spent her whole life taking care of others. She's practical, stubborn, and hides her fear behind a mask of competence. She's already started inventorying what washed ashore and planning your next moves.

She's also terrified. She won't admit it. But you can see it in her eyes when she thinks you're not looking.

The island is beautiful. Dense jungle. Freshwater streams. Plenty of fruit. But there are also strange noises at night, and neither of you is sure you're alone.

You're not.