Strange Trails

Ten

The first thing Maisie hears is an odd mechanical beeping.

It's annoying and she wants to whine at someone to turn it off but her body feels weirdly heavy and sluggish. She sinks back into the comforting embrace of the darkness and waits.

Awareness comes back to her slowly. First in her toes, which she wiggles gingerly. Limbs are still intact, good. Sensation starts to spread through her body until it reaches her ears which twitch with curiosity. She's lying on something warm, but not as soft as the lumpy bed she claimed as her own.

The sharp smell of disinfectant clogs her nose, although she can catch whiffs of other scents under it, and - is she in the Healing Ward?

"She moved! Look, Doc, she moved," a voice cries. It sounds like Sean, although his voice is strained and tense. "Maisie? Maisie, can you hear me?"

"Mr Arran, as I've told you before, a little movement does not mean your sister is out of the woods just yet."

"I mean it looks like she's in the Healing Ward to me," Patrick pipes up. Someone must have glared at him, as she hears his jaw shut with an audible click. "Sheesh, sorry, it was just a joke."

"As I was saying," the Healer, George is her name she thinks, is speaking again, "it may be some time before she regains full consciousness."

"I thought you said she was healing?" Lauren's here. Thank the Goddess.

"She is," Healer George says firmly. "But keeping Mr Arran out of their link and keeping away from that beast would have been stressful for the most powerful of us, I'm not sure what the impact would be on a runt."

There's a faint growl, followed by the sound of a slap.

"Sorry," Sean mutters.

Beast? She doesn't remember that. She mentally revises the last events she can remember. Breakfast in the kitchen like normal, Henry with his bright eyes and eager smile, then Lauren appearing to go foraging with her, and there was the crack of her bones as she shifted, the woods and - oh. The Rabid. She was hiding from it when those eyes appeared.

"I'd suggest we all leave and give Ms Arran some time to rest."

"Fine," Patrick is pouting. "But why does he get to stay?"

"He doesn't," the Healer says firmly. "In fact, I'd like to speak to both of you outside."

"Alright."

The bed underneath her shifts and there's a rush of cold air that causes her to grumble sleepily. Sean's scent grows faint as the others file out slowly, their shoes squeaking against the wooden floors. Then the door closes with a soft thud.

Maisie exhales, waiting for the sound of someone returning. When she's sure she's alone she opens her eyes.

It is painful, peeling back her eyelids. The light burns her retinas and she recoils with a wince at the sudden onslaught. She blinks slowly, her narrowed eyes adjusting to the light. There's the soft chairs she remembers from the times she escorted Lauren to the Healer, next to the tall metal cabinet that holds the files for all the Pack members. She knows her and Sean have files in there too now, and she wonders briefly what hers says. Her eyes follow that to the medical stands that are perched beside her bed before moving to - oh.

There's a small mirror opposite her. A wide gaze meets hers, from a tiny woman in a large bed. The bags under her eyes are so dark, it looks like her skin has been stained with purple dye; her hair stands up on all ends, and her face is decorated in scratches, no doubt from the dead bramble vines she shimmied herself into. She raises a hand to her face, she looks tired. So tired.