The world came into focus in fits and starts, blurry and with blotchy blobs of light and dark. Garbled, too loud sounds assaulted his ears.
Pain stabbed through the foggy clouds of his mind and mixed with the sounds of rapid breathing and the panicked drumbeat of his heart.
Matt!
Sam!
The Monsters!
Gotta get out!
"What the Quiz-! Don't just stand there, you fools!" A voice shrieked and suddenly hands were grabbing him, pushing him back down.
He blindly fought and screamed, feeling a small part of him shrivel up at the fact that he sounded more like an animal then a man. He had to get away!
"Hey. Hey." the voice from before spoke, this time it was very close.
"Easy now." it urged, lowering to a soothing tone that was almost cooing. And he recognized it . . . as a woman's?.
"You're hurt. Badly. You need to lay back down and let us help you. Just sleep now. Sleep."
The last word filled him with a leaden weight and as he slumped back into the darkness he caught a glimpse of yellow blue eyes.
Yanxa sighed in relief as the prisoner submitted to her mental command and carefully lowered him to the floor, robes pooling around her.
"I thought he was dead! I thought they were all supposed to be dead!" one of the novices squawked, voice reaching an admittedly impressive high pitch.
Yanxa tucked a strand of her white hair behind one ear as she sighed in annoyance. Honestly, while he was a novice, he was still a druid. Such behavior was shameful.
She lowered her eyes to the now sleeping figure beside her and frowned thoughtfully. Though perhaps she should cut him some slack. After all, it wasn't everyday one of the bodies under their care tried to make a run for it. Most prisoners she encountered were long dead, torn apart in the arena. In all her years, studying the bodies to learn their weaknesses and ease the way for the empire's conquest, no one had returned from the dead.
This one . . . He must have an incredible will to live.
Curiously, she knelt down and grabbed him by the shoulders. Propping him up against the table she ran her fingers through the white tuft of hair hanging in his face. Strange, it had been black before. No matter, such things were better left to those trained in such matters. She had a job to do.
"Druid Yanxa?"
She glanced up as the other novice stepped forward. She quirked a brow, barely able to stop her lip from curving in amusement when she noticed his panicky cohort struggling to remove a bio-plaster bandage from his mouth. It was clear it had been slapped into place to silence his ravings.
"Druid, what are your instructions?" he asked, calling her attention back to the matter at hand.
She dropped her gaze to the prisoner's injuries. Now that was an appropriate euphemism.
Decision made, she rose fluidly to her feet and turned to face them "This one may be of interest to us. Yaxqil?"
The gagged novice abandoned his efforts at freeing his mouth and snapped to military attention.
Or tried to at least.
Yanxa fought the urge to roll her eyes "Bring me my interment kit for cybernetic replacement surgery. Raz," she turned to the other one "Place the prison back on the table then alert Hagger. I believe what has occurred here may interest her."
She clasped her hands in front of her, retreating into her mind as the two leaped to obey, the burly Raz easily lifting the prisoner back on to the table. Yaxna took a moment to study the prisoner, from his pale slack features to the wound that had brought him into her care.
His arm had been torn off. She remembered Yaxqil telling her this when he was brought in. The gory stump of splintered, exposed bone and trailing ripped flesh now once again oozing crimson blood certainly seemed to support that.
He had died from blood loss and shock brought on by his injuries but now he was back.
She barely noticed when the novices returned, Yaxqil with her kit and Raz with Hagger's response.
Yaxna allowed herself a predatory smile after he finished delivering the message "Impress her, hmm?" so that was how it would be, eh? The Leader of the Druid's did so love to issue challenges. Very well, then. She would impress the old witch "You will assist me. Go wash up." she ordered the pair, waving them off. The two hurried to do her bidding, once again leaving her alone with the prisoner.
Looking down at him, she carded her fingers through his now snowy patch of hair. When she was little and just discovering her abilities she had dreamed of using them for . . . altruistic purposes. Of being a healer. She had quickly put aside such childish fancies, of course. The Galra had little need of such skills. The strong could survive without them, after all.
Strange how those dreams were coming to fruition, anyway.
"The Fates have returned you to life." she declared aloud even though there was no one to hear, staring down at the prisoner "I believe you are destined for greatness."