The Huntress Descent

The Storm: Chapter Two

With a jolt I awoke wide eyed.

"Ah," I yelled in response. Opening my eyes had not been the wisest of decisions. All I was able to catch before I squeezed the shut again was a blinding white light. I smacked my hands over my face and waited for the pain to subside.

Hot. That was my first thought.

It's really hot was my second.

"Oh my," I gasped as a cloud of dry heat seared down my throat, annihilating any little air left in my lungs. I bolted upright as I struggled to breathe. It was like someone had lit a fire within me. No matter how much a coughed, spluttered and gasped the dry air would not settle.

And I panicked. I forgot to keep myself calm. All rational thought abandoned me as I started to panic from the lack of oxygen. Only one thought remained.

You are going to die.

"No," I coughed through sharp breathes. I pulled myself to my knees and bent over wheezing, forcing the air into my lungs from the new position. It took a second, but eventually I caught it. I sucked the air in and puffed it out again until my breathing resumed into a normal rhythm. That first instant waking up had been the worst I had experienced since my arrival in the Glade, and that really was a panic-worthy moment.

I forced my eyes open for a second time, this time anticipating the pure brightness. I squinted and looked down at the dirt I tightly gripped between my fingers. Dirt would be an overstatement. I had seen dirt, that was rich-brown and full of life. This dirt was almost greyish and lifeless even. Not a single ounce of life breathing in it. And it was everywhere.

"Well duh. The man did say that the world had been destroyed by the sun flares," I muttered to myself and the dead dirt. I wondered if all the messing with my head had caused the rise in the level of stupidness I exhibited. That was really the only explanation for it. Because I couldn't be that stupid. Could I? No. No.

It was an exasperated "oh" and a kick of my foot that brought the small rucksack beside me to my attention. Dust had blown over it, not a lot, but enough to show that it had been sitting there for a while waiting me for to wake up. I stretched and dragged the pack closer towards so I could inspect its contents. As I unhooked the straps, I can feel that it has been made with a sturdy material. At least WICKED weren't skimping on something. But the colour. Wow. Bright orange was a choice someone made. This thing could practically outshine the sun if it had the chance.

I flipped open the flap and carefully pull out the provisions I found inside: one small scarf, a couple packets of crackers and what looked like a dried meat substance. I delved further into my bag searching for the thing that I would need almost immediately after I stood up. The pack was empty. There was no water.

"No, no, please no, this can't be happening," I choked back tears as a frantically turned the pack inside out searching for at least a small bottle. This was bad. Very bad. What crossed their mind when they left this with me? Did they actually want me to die out here instead of partaking in the stupid little game?

I slumped back and drew my fingers through my hair. Pulling out loose strands from my already messy braid. I quickly became aware of the dryness in my throat and my mouth, every crack that tore of lips. I needed to find a source of water, and I needed to find it fast otherwise it would be a slow and painful death for me.

As I refilled my pack and tied the scarf around my head, I had an awful thought. Maybe this was my fate after all. To die alone with nobody who cares. It was such an awful thought. "Like damn I let them decide when I die," I told myself. I snatched the bag and hauled myself up from the ground. If they left me with no water supply, then surely there would be one close by. They weren't this deranged. Were they?