She lay helplessly in her tent, her back aching as she remained in the single position, her ears straining to hear the chorus of voices outside the thin material.
She had no idea how long had passed. She could hear the soft thud of bare feet on the soft dirt, and she imagined the women to be running around Booth, whether in a frenzy or in a ritual it was hard to tell.
She tried to call out to someone, to anyone, to make them see why she should be out there rather than stuck in her uncomfortable confines. Her stillness was no longer relaxing, but aggravating, and she struggled to keep herself glued to the floor until Damario told her it was time.
Millions of thoughts were zooming through her head like flies. She was determined to sneak onto the base camp and retrieve that antidote for Booth. But she was still unsure that she would successfully be able to do it, without being killed or decapitated in the process.
She wondered whether it was late enough for the doctor's to have gone to their bunks. But, she thought in exasperation, they surely wouldn't just leave the antidote lying in plain site where anyone could pick it up.
She could disguise herself as a beggar, in search for food, and sneak away the antidote, but she doubted she would be able to fool anyone, though her limp would be an advantage. Besides, who had ever seen a beggar in the middle of the desert?
Taking one of the other girls was completely out of the question. She had already ruined Naomi's life, with no way to give back what had been taken from her. She couldn't risk the same happening to any of the other innocent females.
Perhaps she could disguise herself as...herself? Limp onto the campsite, with her face smothered with dirt so it was unrecognisable. The guards were so thick; they wouldn't be able to tell bone structure from a quick glance. The doctor's would almost certainly try to help her – it was in their nature.
It was the only worthwhile plan she had. And if they did discover her, well...she would do it for Booth.
She heard a low whistle from outside, and then the unmistakeable sound of panic gasping. Curiosity gripping her like an anaconda, she awkwardly slipped out of the tent, and froze, her blood running cold.
An enormous snake lay lethally on the edge of the campsite, its pinpricked eyes glancing suspiciously over its occupants. Its black spots blended with the filthy dirt covering the ground, its tongue showing itself proudly to them all. Brennan felt sure that this was the same snake that had attacked Booth.
To her horror, she saw realisation dawn upon Damario's face. He began to sidle over to her, whilst other members of the tribe left to encourage the snake to leave them.
"Temperance," Damario whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "I do believe we were all wrong. I don't know how we could have missed it! This is an uncommon snake to the area, but its bite is very similar. The problem is," he paused, unsure whether to continue. "This snake is much more...deadly," he finished, throwing a worried glance towards her reaction.
Panic froze Brennan more than the snake itself had. She stood rooted to the spot, her eyes searching for something lost within her mind.
"I must leave," she rasped, her throat suddenly becoming dry. "I have to go and get the antidote. They must have it-"
"I am not so sure. He needs proper care!"
"We don't have enough time, Damario," Brennan said loudly, panic striking her voice.
Damario gazed into her eyes, and she stared back just as demandingly. He stood back, his arm outstretched, indicating the path to the village. She gave him a grateful smile before turning and glancing at the motionless Booth, and running off painfully into the darkness.
She tried to shoot all the malicious thoughts out of her mind, such as the idea of running into deadly snakes, or being stung by a lethal plant, or even collapsing from her injuries. She pushed on, determined to be strong, determined to repay Booth.
But was that the only reason? A small voice in her head was suggesting that maybe she wanted to prove that she could do things on her own, that she didn't need to be saved. Maybe to prove that sometimes men needed to be the ones being saved as well?
She pushed this selfish thought out of her mind as soon as it appeared.
She had no idea where she was going. The pain in her ankles, wrist, legs, all her muscles, her entire body; they screamed at her, trying to will her to stop, to rest, to give up. She grunted occasionally, her mind numb with forcing the pain away. She swatted away plants and bugs, her wrist aching as it came into contact with tough and knarled branches. She bit her lip to stop herself screaming as she tripped over a protruding log, causing her ankle to twist awkwardly.
Still, she kept running, continuing to face the general direction she had been shown. It seemed every scrap of nature in the jungle was jumping in her way, trying to block her path to Booth. It seemed to take hours to tackle the green, and it began to press down on her...
Finally, the branches started to thin. Her shoulders became clear of leaves, and her face became scratch-risk-free, as the trees became taller and less-dangerous.
She could see the twinkling lights from the campsite.
So close!
She began to slow down, the pain immediately increasing, as though fire had been lit at her feet, the flames scorching through her blood. She winced, and forced herself not to make a sound.
Now for the next part of her plan.
She reached behind her head, removing the layer of material they had given her to protect her face from mosquitoes. She tied it loosely around her waist, its crooked edges dangling like rags beside her hips.
She bent down, and with effort, removed the bandages that held her ankle in place. If she was to appear weak and dying, she couldn't be seen to have help. She dumped them on the closest tree – the sallow colour would be a giveaway.
The next few minutes were spent removing all her bandages, and trying to look as tribal as possible. With difficulty, she managed to bend down and scoop some of the dusty dirt into her shaking hands, and smothered it onto her parched face. She took out her muck-filled hair, and ran her hands roughly through it, causing it to stick out at odd angles.
She knew she must look a sight.
Perfect.
She forced herself out of the tree-line, stumbling as the pain shot through her now-unsupported ankle. She dropped her mouth open, and her hands hung limply by her sides. She continued to make her way slowly to the camp, the pain excruciating, now wishing they actually would give her medical assistance. A few times she fell, not just from acting, but due to her lack of energy and injuries.
She could see doctor's and guards watching her warily, some with disgust, others with an air of worry. A few started to run over to her, desperate to help her. By this point she felt like she would collapse at any second, and was grateful when a woman handed her a tin of water. She sagged to the floor, and curled herself up, as though to shield herself away from the enemy, which was what she was trying to do; to hide her face – particularly from the doctor's, who would have knowledge of bone structure and facial features.
She began to rock back and forth, moaning loudly, desperate for more water. She was so confused, so blinded by the pain that she was unsure what she was acting and what was real anymore. She hadn't the faintest clue how she could get the antidote in this condition. She doubted it would just be protruding from someone's pocket.
She managed to summon up her strength, force her mind to concentrate, and act once more. She reached down and clutched her painful leg, and to her pleasure asked what was wrong.
"Snake," she moaned. "A huge...brown...snake."
This had taken more effort than she had actually anticipated, and was horrified to find sobs falling down her dirt-smothered face.
"Please..." she whimpered in exasperation, and, much to her pain-filled delight, they ran off, muttering about an antidote. The voices were garbles, as though spoken from a very great distance down a misused megaphone.
She was unsure what to do next. Would they inject her with the antidote? Of course they would, she muttered to herself furiously. She had to take it, to have them hand it to her instead...
She gazed around, trying to find where the doctor's had gone, and she saw him. He stood sulkily against one of the tents, his burly frame blocking the setting sunlight.
She refused to let herself even think of his name.
A deep loathing coarsed through her, as though a snake had entered her blood stream and was slithering throughout her body. She was desperate to scream at him, to make him aware of what he had done to her, what he had put her through. But her screams were silent, and the tears once more ran down her face, fresh and warm against her frozen skin.
Luckily, the doctor's returned, and blocked his view from her. She was glad – she knew serious damage would happen if she ever laid her eyes on him again.
They held her down, a sharp needle appearing from a gloved hand. Brennan squirmed, trying to get them to stop. She kicked out, her ankle connecting with one of their hands, and she screamed in pain as her ankle cracked loudly. Tears were running freely now.
She had no choice. Brennan pushed herself off the floor, grabbed the antidote and began to run to the jungle. She screamed in anguish as her ankle rolled beneath her, sobs now emitting from her mouth, and she struggled not to stop. She could hear the padded footsteps behind her, but she dared not turn around.
All she could think about was the darkness that would fill her mind when she returned, how they would soothe her injuries and calm her down.
She reached the edge of the trees, and shot a quick look behind her. They had fallen behind, perhaps scared of the jungle, or taken aback by her reaction. Either way, it was not her concern.
She slid the bandages off the trees as she ran, using them desperately to slap away the leaves in front of her face. Every object possible on the ground seemed to fall into her footsteps, and she had no choice but to watch the ground, and hope she didn't run into a tree in the process.
A sudden thought occurred. They had needed a specific antidote, a stronger one.
What if she had gotten the wrong one?
The natives had misidentified the snake – could the doctor's have as well?
But she had no choice. It was better than nothing.
Her heart lifted as she saw the campsite. She saw Damario's shocked face as he took in her condition, and listened, his face contorting slightly as Brennan screamed in relief and anguish. She hobbled over to Booth, her head weeping on his strong body.
His heartbeat was invisible.