The Huntress Descent

The Labyrinth: Chapter Thirteen

I remember it being cold. Something that filled every part of my body. And the feeling of drifting.

Just being present. Nothing more, nothing less. Almost peaceful. No sound snuck through the cracks, no light penetrated the walls. It was myself, the cold and the feeling of drifting.

Then the rushing pounded in my ears, almost the sound of water thrusting me along. The cold washed away, replaced by a fiery pain that erupted deep below. It circulated upwards until it sat prominent high up, bounding, making its presence known. The darkness struggled against the ray of light bursting through, it retreating to the furthest corners.

Until, the light fully replaced the darkness and I was awake on my bed with a pounding headache and a very dry throat.

A groan. That was all that I could let out. A loud long groan that showed how much pain I was in.

Why did this always happen?

I shifted my head to the side, the motion a great effort on my part. I was in my room, the same bare walls, little window and small table. Two chairs had joined the area, but nothing seemed odd about the place.

Maybe I had just dreamt everything. Somehow passed out from exhaustion the other day and dreamt the whole thing up. That made far more sense. There was no way that everything from last night actually happened. It was impossible. No one survived in the Maze.

I moved my arms from my chest and rubbed grogginess away from my eyes. It was weird that they had let me sleep in. Newt usually woke me just as the sun came up, not when it was fully bright.

Something wasn't right.

I heaved my head from the pillow, my neck stiff from the night sleep, and rested myself up on my elbows. Everything felt stiff. Not juts my legs. Getting to a seated position hurt a lot more than yesterday.

Then I saw it as the sheet covering me fell away.

The white shirt I had been wearing was not ... white.

There were red splotches on it. And dirt. And weird coloured marks.

That wasn't a dream.

I grabbed a hold of the sheet closed my eyes and gently nudged it from the bed. I heard the sheet fall to the ground. I was too scared to see it. If my shirt really was dirty, then if that was real. Then all of it was real. And I really went out there. I really went through it.

Get a grip. You're back.

Fine. I opened my eyes and saw one leg completely fine, the other. Well. It was hidden under a mass of bandages that tightly bound itself round my ankle. The pain. A dull throb against everything else. Somehow it was not as bad as it was out in the Maze. How long that would last, well only time would tell.

A click at the door caught my attention. In this place, it seemed that having a moment to yourself didn't really exist. It had barely been two minutes when Clint burst through the door with several bandages slung over his shoulder and a bowl of water in his hand. He leant up against the door and seemed to almost smile when he saw me.

"I knew I heard something," he said to me or himself. I wasn't sure. He hooked the nearest chair with his foot and dragged it toward him. He secured it in front of the door as a weight, placed the bowl of water on the seat and padded inside. "So, how you feeling?"

"I ... uh," I stuttered. I was at a lost for words. I collected myself, picking up the sheet from the floor to give me time to think. "What happened?" I asked him instead. There was literally nothing coming to mind apart from that question.