Her vision was hazy and the only thing she could make out was the peach-colored circle hovering over her. It might have just been the sun.
No wait, she couldn't be this close to the sun. Well, who cared. She was going to die anyway.
She was being shaken. The circle was screaming, though she couldn't hear.
She could feel the water in her lungs, choking her. Surprisingly, she couldn't make out the water that surely surrounded her. Maybe that's why her vision was blurry. Well, who cared.
Her vision went dark.
---
It was warm when she awoke.
Not the hot warmth of what she'd pictured hell would be, but a gentle, calming warmth. The familiar smell of burning wood confirmed her doubts.
A campsite. She was alive. For how much longer, she didn't know.
Who the hell saved me?
She tried sitting up, instantly regretting it and laying down again. It'd felt like there was water sloshing around on the inside of her skull.
Her hand absent-mindedly grasped her hair.
What even happened? Did I get high or something?
All she could remember was a soft, sweet voice and blurry vision...
She remembered leaving home with Sam...To get meat, she thought. They'd set up camp for the night and she'd woken up to Sam leaving. She didn't remember why or to where, but she'd followed her friend. The sight of the vast expanse of the sea was the last thing she remembered. No smell, wonder why. Now she was back at the campsite, somehow. Was it all a dream?
No, it couldn't have been. Why was she having this splitting headache then, and why was Sam awake, avoiding eye contact as usual but awake and staring at the fire? She'd clearly noticed she was awake, but the girl couldn't be less surprised. Sam didn't usually acknowledge things unless they were directly relevant to her. It sort of hurt her that she didn't count as one of those things, but Sam was just a blunt person.
What did she do now?
"What did you-" the dry, choked noise that came out of her mouth after stopped her from completing her sentence, instead hunching over to cough, hoping to get something out of her stomach so maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't feel like she'd just come out of a 100-day exile from the southern deserts.
She might have believed she had if the literal last thing she remembered hadn't been the damn ocean.
There was a bottle of water right next to Sam, but she didn't pass it. Of course, she didn't. The fact that she hadn't been killed in her sleep was a surprise. The poor girl reached around the fire to grab the bottle before a hand stopped hers.
"Heather." Her voice sounded the same as it always did. Monotone, uninterested. It missed its usual sarcasm though, and Heather wondered how one could be sarcastic saying someone's name. If there was a way, Sam was the only one who could do it. There was something else amiss about her voice though. She wouldn't describe it as concern (Sam was incapable of that), but her voice was definitely a lot softer than usual.
She seemed to realize this as her eyes slightly widened, so little you wouldn't be able to tell unless you were right next to her, which Heather was. She coughed a little before saying the girl's name again, this time with a much more emotionless voice. It was a small gesture, but it had been enough to surprise Heather, as her eyes widened before she quickly got them back to normal.
