“Is she ready?” she asks. “For the hunt.”
The physician doesn’t look at her. “She shouldn’t be running. She has significant internal bleeding.”
Sophie scoffs. “Everyone’s bleeding.” She steps closer, gaze raking over me. “She’s not special. She’ll participate.”
Then she turns and leaves.
The physician finishes rewrapping my arm without speaking. His movements are careful and efficient as he secures the wrap around my wrist and forearm. When he finishes, his hands remain there for a moment longer than necessary.
“I cannot help you,” he says quietly.
I nod because I already understand that.
He glances toward the door before leaning slightly closer. Something cool presses briefly against the inside of my wrist as he finishes sealing the wrap.
A scalpel.
It sits hidden beneath the layers of fabric, positioned so I will be able to reach it if I need to.
My breath catches.
He looks me in the eye for the first time since I arrived here.
“I have seen what they do to people during the Hunt,” he lowers his voice. “You do not want to experience it.”
The words settle heavy in my chest.
“If they find you,” he continues, “use it on yourself before they do their worst.”
He is not offering me a weapon.
He is offering me a way out.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He nods once.
“Good luck to you, Brooke.”
I'm not going to use it on myself. If they want a hunt, I'm going to make them bleed for it.
After the physician finishes, the guards escort me back to the basement. A dress waits folded neatly on the cot.
It is soft cotton, pure white, sleeveless. It looks like something meant for a summer picnic or a ceremony. It is not armor. It is not meant for running. It is meant to be seen, exposed, easy to find in the woods.
Sophie stands in front of me, already dressed in black, her curved blades strapped to her thighs.
“I picked this one special,” she smiles as she tosses a pair of white flats onto the cot. “It will make it easier for us to find you. You can't exactly blend into the trees.”
I don't respond.
“Good luck,” she adds lightly. “If I find you first, I will make it quick.”
I hold her gaze for as long as I can before turning away to get dressed.
I sit back down on the edge of the cot to slide my feet into the shoes, and that is when I feel it. Warmth spreads slowly beneath the thin fabric, followed by a damp heaviness that makes my breath catch. The sensation is unmistakable, the sickening awareness that something is still happening inside my body whether I want to face it or not.
I look down.
