S I X T E E N
We all sit in the cave, each leaning against the wall, each trying to recover. I look around, at Bree, Ben, Logan, Flo and Charlie—we are a sorry bunch. We are covered in scrapes and bruises; I can feel my own body covered in large welts, and I see welts forming on the other’s faces. I didn’t realize how many rocks I’d been hit by until now, how many blows I’d sustained, until I sit here recovering, feeling the pain and swelling of all the lumps.
We sit here, still dressed in our outfits, our black battle gear with yellow crosses across our chests. As much as it is a sour reminder of the day’s events, at least the padded gear is comfortable, and keeps me warm. It is too painful to even try to take it off. It hurts to even bend my knees. I’m stiffening up, and I suspect the
