Edward stood alone, terrified and exhausted. His eyes darted around the thick forest, shadows danced making him flinch. He had to find a hiding place before the others found him.

Edward stumbled into a hidden cave, its entrance obscured by large ferns. He leaned against the cool stone wall, catching his breath, heart pounding heavily in his chest.

Mark, Corby and the rest continued their celebration. Their laughter and jeers echoed through the silent night. Mark’s pride made him drunk with power.

Despite being chief, Mark was constantly on edge. He feared Edward could mount a rebellion. He couldn't sleep and became more aggressive and paranoid.

Corby was Mark's right hand. He was as cruel as Mark, albeit less cunning. His loyalty to Mark was unwavering, making him a dangerous adversary for Edward.

Edward sat shivering in the cave. He wished for the twins Sawyer and Earl to appear and offer some solace. But he knew better than to expect that.

The twins, Sawyer and Earl, were Edward’s only allies. They delivered him food secretly and provided him information about Mark's plans.

Edward woke up abruptly. The sounds from the forest were different. The savage boy-tribe was on the hunt. He braced himself, a stick in hand.

Mark led the tribe, spear in hand. He tried to suppress his fear. Edward was clever and desperate, a dangerous combination.

Edward stepped out of the cave, his heart pounding. He saw Mark, the beast of a boy, spear in hand. But Edward refused to back down.

Mark lunged towards Edward, but Edward dodged. Their primitive battle had begun. One to live, the other to die. There was no room for mercy.

Corby stood on the sidelines, watching. He was on edge, not knowing which way the fight would go. His loyalty to Mark battled his primal fear.

Sawyer and Earl watched from a distance, worried for Edward. They wished they could help, but knew they could do little against the bloodthirsty tribe.

Cornered, Edward fought with all his strength. He landed a blow on Mark, marking the first victory of their deadly duel.

The blow knocked the wind out of Mark. He stumbled back, gasping for breath. His spear slipped from his grip, and he fell to his knees.

With Mark down, Edward seized his chance. He ran, sprinting towards the dense forest. He had to escape before Mark returned to his senses.

Mark howled in rage seeing Edward escape. He got back on his feet, his face beet-red from the humiliation and failure. His blood was boiling.

Edward was running out of breath, but he couldn't stop. He had to get as far away as possible. Safety for him was an illusion.

The twins watched as Edward disappeared into the forest. They knew Edward had little chance against the tribe. But they also knew Edward would never give up.

Mark, with renewed vigor, began commanding his tribe. They spread out, hunting for Edward. The island had turned into a battlefield, a war of survival.

Corby, although hesitant, followed Mark’s orders. He picked up a spear and followed the others. The thought of harming Edward sickened him, but loyalty won over.

Edward reached the coast. He had no choice but to swim. He cast one last glance at the island before diving into the cold, dark ocean.

With Edward gone, Mark felt a hollow victory. He had won physically, but the fear of Edward returning haunted him. The island was his, but at what cost?

The twins were the last ones to leave the beach. They watched the horizon, praying for Edward. Their friend was gone, but his spirit remained.

Edward swam with all his strength, away from the haunting island. He looked towards the horizon, hoping for salvation. The ordeal was over, a new one awaited.