Labyrinth

Chapter 8-

Labyrinth- C8

Clearly, this is a very predictable adventure story. And, as it seems to be the case with all very predictable adventure stories, we have been captured and sentenced to death. Then, by some totally crazy miracle (or work of demon magic; I guess it goes both ways), we narrowly avoid death with our heads on the metaphor-guillotine.

But I don't think anyone in a very predictable adventure story has ever been saved by a giant, mutated cat and badass chick with ear stretches.

If you saw it coming, then congrats, because no one else did. Literally- when the cat was dragged in (bad twist on an idiom, sorry, I couldn't resist) there was so much black camp dust swirling that no one could see a thing.

There was a pounding on the ground, like a mini earthquake, that sent me bouncing into the air as the massive /thing/ came barreling into the camp. An enormous, furry, brown-tabby paw swatted Storm Bringer aside before he could even react (I didn't bother looking to see if he was okay, obviously, but he was probably strong enough to survive). My eyes widened despite the dust, trying to catch a glimpse of our rescuer, secretly hoping it was some weird shapeshifter that could change into a boy just a slight bit hotter than Jake so that we could get a nice love triangle going.

However, I was semi-unpleasantly surprised to see a totally normal, ten-foot tall cat. Okay, not 'normal', per se, but probably not a shapeshifting being considering the cat had a rider: a girl, with skin the shade of freshly-ground coffee and a face that could've been anywhere from fifteen to twenty-five. Young, but like.. More mature, y'know?

The cat stopped about a meter away from us, laying gracefully on the ground. The girl took the opportunity to dismount, flashing a half-smirk and a nod towards Jake and me. "You guys alright?" she asked, pulling a long, curved knife from a leather sheathe at her side.

"Are you a pirate?" The inquiry just sorta popped out. I think the inability to facepalm was killing Jake, but the girl with the sword didn't seem too angry, given she laughed. Which was good, because most people try to stay on the side of the person with the sword.

It got even better when the girl severed the painful nylon ropes keeping us here, thankfully keeping our hands intact.

And that is how we narrowly escaped death by weird tribefolk.

"Hey, are you okay, Collins? You've barely said a word all ride," Trace asks, tapping my knee as she looks at me from her flame-orange eye. I glance up from my raw red wrists, nodding.

"Yeah. Thanks," I return. She's been making amicable conversation with Jake as he explained how we got to the Camp of Little Justice (or whatever their tribe was called).

So as it turns out, this girl's some maze vigilante named Trace Carson, who basically just tries to stop endless murder in the maze and tries to convert people to her ideals of working for a common good; that being a way out. Some people don't agree with her wishes, of course, which is why there's a neatly cut piece of black fabric over one of her eyes.. Though I don't know how she managed to find an eyepatch in here.

Anyway, she seems cool, aside from the fact that she calls Jake and me by our last names (so there's the two nicknames I've acquired now, plus the additional preference of being called Marty, which gives me three nicknames totaled, which is a fairly ludicrous sum). There happen to be quite a few pros to her existence here, anyway. She's not hostile, she has some pretty boss magenta piercings, including the ear stretches I mentioned several paragraphs back, snakebites, nose stud (gold, not magenta this time), and still more ear piercings, although it's weird that she's been able to maintain them in these conditions. I'm super jealous of her long, thick black hair, and her spotless complexion is to die for- although, once again, how does she maintain this stuff?!

It's also pretty boss that she's trained Mitten, her giant male mutant cat. But I am not quite so jealous of this, as I have never been a huge cat person- more of a dog fan- and find riding one bareback a little disconcerting. Just a tad. He seems really nice though, and whenever we enter a new corridor, his whiskers do this cute little twitchy-thing. So I guess he's alright, at least for a cat.

The easy sway of Mitten beneath me, the warmth of being sandwiched between Trace and Jake (in that order), and being stuck to think my thoughts isn't contributing to keeping me awake. In fact, it's more so reminding me that today I went through a near-death experience and haven't had any food in, like, days. So when a meticulous, strong hand tips me back against something firm and warm, I nestle up to it and drift off into an easy sleep.

I don't dream of much, but it's nice to not have to worry about waking up. I'm vaguely aware of something holding me steady, keeping me upright, laying me on my back.. But it's a stage of barely-consciousness, and in seconds the waking world is nonexistent again.

When my eyes peel open, still crusty with sleep gunk, I'm still in my place on the middle of Mitten's back. However, the setting I happen to be in is way different.

It's changed from the barren black fields of a certain murderous tribe and the cave-like tunnels that I've grown so accustomed to here. It's a lot brighter, with a grey, concrete floor- at least it /looks/ like concrete- and tall, synthetic, white walls. This part of the maze seems to have a higher ceiling, and my first thought is that it might be close to a way out.. But it's closely followed by the realization that there's stuff in here; frying pans, a fire pit, some mats and rugs that probably serve as makeshift beds. Something tells me this is probably the Trace Place (see what I did there?), which means if it was a way out, she wouldn't still be here. I let out the hopeful breath I'd been holding and instead take in how similar this corridor looks to the ideal mental asylum.

"You're up!" Trace informs me gleefully as I comb a hand through my thick hair. "I thought you were comatose for a while."

I shake my head. "Not yet."

Jake glances at me, but stays quiet for once, not uttering a word as he sits on a greyish mat beside the fire pit. Trace glances at him, then back at me. Raising an arched eyebrow as she asks, "Are you two a thing or what? 'Cause I thought it was really cute when you were leaning up against him back on Mitten, but then he said-"

"I didn't say anything," Jake contradicts, his voice steady. But he starts resembling a tomato as he tries holding his point with a definitive stare.

"He said that no matter how hot you were, he was not, and he emphasized NOT, hooking up with you," answers Trace, a mischievous grin spreading over her face.

I raise an eyebrow. "Is this true?" Now, despite the fact that I barely know Trace, I feel like this is a topic she'll greatly enjoy.

"Yup. But I don't think he's serious, and I /was/ a romance guru back in the day," she assures me, leaving Jake spluttering denials. Self-proclaimed romance guru. Yeah, I totally called it.

As Jake tries to explain that he 'said nothing of the sort' and thinks I'm actually 'quite off' but that hooking up 'wouldn't be /terrible/' and stumbles over his words, I can only just sit there with a smirk identical to Trace's. It might just be a shot in the dark, but I feel like the three of us will get along just fine.