I was fairly certain the sound I made was a shriek, but it was hard to tell. Things had been going smoothly, until just a second before, and it was difficult to process how quickly events had turned from detached, almost disinterested, calm to stunning, biting pain.

Boredom. It was boredom that was the culprit. You would think a weird reprieve from the Entity summoning us to Trials would make the campfire a more wholesome, cheerful place, but you'd be wrong. Time was not easy to calculate when nothing changed and there was no day/night cycle to alternate the never ending monotony, but all of us agreed it had been a long time since anyone had been called to a Trial. Maybe even a few weeks out where the rotation of planets still held meaning, and everyone was starting to get edgy.

There just wasn't anything to do. You could talk about the outside only so much before it started pissing you off or soul-sucking the life right out of you, and talking about Trials when there weren't any was a drag, and you could only fuck each other for so long before even that got tedious and people started snapping at each other. David was stomping around camp like a thundercloud, Meg was bickering with anyone who got too near her, and Quentin had a haunted look about him like a hollow-eyed zombie because he hadn't even been able to grab a quick nap in-Trial in… however long it'd been, and I just needed to get out of there.

So, I had. I scooted, deciding to take my chances in the fog with the killers, who were probably as restless and uptight, or worse, than we were because they'd had nothing to do in however long. It wasn't the best decision, wasn't the smartest thing to do, despite the fact the fog rarely bothered me and I seldom got lost. It was the killers more than the fog that had been keeping us close to the campfire; we could hear them out there, just outside the boundaries of our little territory.

They were starting to lose it.

Which was why I made my way to the MacMillan manor. Not because Evan, the Trapper, was the least dangerous, but because of all of them, I thought Evan was the most levelheaded and the least likely to lose his cool over a little downtime.

But then, what did I know about what went on inside the Trapper's head? Just when I thought I'd figured him and his traps out, he did something unexpected. Like this trap. This damn trap!

I almost cried, as I clawed at the metal jaws holding my lower leg, my fingers slip-sliding in the slick of my own blood. The trap had looked easy, been obvious, not hidden at all, just begging for a little sabotage, and sure it was rigged to a couple other traps, so if I fucked up the first one, the others would trigger, but I'd worked on traps like that before without issue. What I hadn't expected was the reverse rig, so when I deactivated the first trap, this other one had sprang shut on my leg.

It hadn't broken the bone, but the teeth were sharper than Evan's usual, and the more I struggled the more it shredded into muscle and flesh. Even if I could get the thing off, and I didn't think I could, not this time, Evan had done something to it to make it harder to pry apart, I wouldn't be walking away. Not even if I stuck around and waited for the wound to heal.

Because the lack of Trials wasn't the only thing standing people on their last nerve. There was something wrong with the Entity, something not right. If any of this had ever been right. It wasn't, it hadn't, but now the everyday, monotonous normal wasn't normal anymore. Wounds weren't healing up in a short while like they should. Now, if you were hurt, you had to take care of it and wait and wait and hope it didn't fester because you could end up dead. And goodness knew what would happen if you died right now. People were still coming back to life, Quentin had found that out when he'd stumbled into the Doctor while scavenging. He'd come back, but not before what felt like days and days and not until we'd all been in a state of panic at the campfire, thinking he wasn't coming back, and if the Entity was going to get bored and fuck off and leave us, the least it could do was put us back where it found us. But Quentin had come back, looking no better rested than when he'd kicked it, proving the Entity was still around and just further being a dick.

And what if… what if the next one who died didn't come back because the Entity was bored and trying something new. Permanent decease. There was always that chance. Which only made my slinking off to fiddle with traps all the more selfish and petty. I was going to make the others worry and I could only hope no one was coming after me. Even as I rather pitifully hoped they would because I didn't want to be alone out here for the first time I could remember. I didn't want to lay there alone waiting for Evan to come find me.

So, I hoped it, as endless time went on and all I could do was lay there, wondering when I would hear the all too familiar thud of Evan's footsteps. I expected it to be soon, but I lay there and lay there and lay there and nothing. No Evan, come to deal with the pesky saboteur and no help to spring me from the trap. Just me and unmarked time and ache.

I had to be still because it hurt like hell when I moved even a little bit, but the longer I was still… Was it days in the places where days existed? The longer I stayed there, the harder it was to be still. The bleeding had mostly tapered off and only dribbled a little when I moved, but other problems made me restless. I wasn't used to being hungry and thirsty anymore, but those annoyances had come back with the break in the Trials and I wanted water. Wanted it so damn bad I felt like screaming and crying and I started clawing at the trap again, even knowing it would do no good. I was caught. Good and truly caught.

After a while, I realized I had two options: I could do what other animals did when they were caught and take my leg off to escape the trap, or I could lay there and die in the faint hope I'd eventually end up back at the campfire and not just spin off into oblivion because the Entity had better things to do than play its little game. Only choice one wasn't much of a choice because I had no real way of amputating my own leg and if I managed it, which I seriously doubted I could, I could just end up bleeding out. And if I didn't, I'd have to drag myself back to the campfire, and what? Be a useless invalid until the Entity got back on its game?

Whimpering, I tucked myself into as tight a ball as I could manage with my leg in a trap, and lay there, ruminating on what a stupid move it's been to lose my head and go off to play around in the fog. Real good move, Jake, real good move…

More time, more nothing but growing pain and deep, internal ache. I started to move less and doze more, in short twitching bursts, because I had no energy and what else was there to do? When the muffled thuds of Evan's steps finally did reverberate through the ground and into my ear, it was almost a relief mixed with terror.

What was he going to do? A quick death would be the least I could hope for, but…

But.

I barely had the strength to open my eyes and look up when the large man paused over me and said my name. Or, what passed as my name with him. "What have we here? The little Saboteur."

I mewed something intelligible and shivered but Evan didn't respond. Just breathed behind his mask before bending down and prying the trap's jaws open. Normally, I would have scurried out and tried to make a break for it, but this wasn't normal and I just yelped. The feeling of the trap's teeth ripping out of me a whole new, sharp sting that chased me down into dark, almost unconsciousness.

A thing probably just as well for me because I missed most of Evan hauling me unceremoniously unto his shoulder and carrying me, non-too-gently, back to the manor. I didn't come to until Evan threw me like a sack unto a bed and started undoing my belt and fly. That roused me enough to hiss and spit and try kicking out with my good leg because this was not what I expected.

Trying to wrestle with Evan when I was at my peek in a Trial was pointless enough. Trying to get him off me when I was basically limp from blood loss and dehydration wasn't even an attempt. He just grabbed my leg, his massive hand circling my thigh, and shucked my pants off in a swift jerk that had me crying out when the blood-soaked fabric came off my torn-up leg. I struggled, then stilled when he put another hand on my chest, fingers splayed, pushing me down into the mattress.

"Don't fuss."

He said it like I was some sort of wild thing he was trying to tame and not as though he could maybe cave my chest in with that hand if I didn't listen. It was confusing, but either way, I stopped moving and things continued to be confusing.

Instead of carrying on with the line of activity I anticipated after he'd stripped my lower half, Evan payed no attention to what was between my legs and all of it to my now freely-bleeding limb. Calloused, rough hands inspected his trap's handiwork, and proceeded to treat it with minute care, whether I complained about it or not. I did complain about it, it hurt, damn it! You didn't get a needle and thread through your skin without it hurting like a motherfucker!

And more than that, what the fuck was this?! It made no sense. Evan had never once been kind to me, never once shown the slightest sliver of compassion when I crawled away from him, bleeding and in pain. So, an Evan firmly wrapping my cleaned and stitched leg in bandages with the art of a well-trained medic, was an Evan I didn't understand.

He patted my thigh when it was done and commanded, "Stay here," before getting up and going, clicking the door shut behind him.

I waited maybe ten seconds before wiggling to the edge of the bed. Staying there was not going to happen. No way, no how, I was out of the trap and I was going back to the campfire. The why of this situation could be figured out at a later date, when I wasn't half down for the count in the MacMillan manor.

Only, leaving wasn't exactly easy. My leg crumbled out from under me the moment I put pressure on it and I went down like a puppet without strings. My head was spinning and that was only partly because I'd cracked it on the hardwood floor. Blood loss, pain, hunger, dehydration, and a crack to the head. Half down for the count might have been an understatement. I was all the way down for the count and the long stretch of space between the four-post bed and the splintered, but still ornately-carved door, suddenly looked way too far, as if it were elongating in front of my eyes.

The fluctuating appearance of things and the surety Evan would be back any moment, had me whimpering and pulling myself across the floor with my fingertips. First to my pants, because I was not about to go running through the fog naked from the waist down, and then, after a near-frantic, panting struggle with my filthy piece of clothing, to the door. The door… where I ended laying on the ground in a pile, trying to imagine how I was going to get to the handle and turn it, much less crawl through the manor and outside.

I was still there, half delirious, when that slab of wood opened, admitting the hulking form of Evan. He glanced down at me through the holes in his mask, and I could only moan and close my eyes.

"I told you to stay," he rumbled, at last, and I half sobbed something because what was he going to do?

He sighed, disgusted, and paced away, leaving me there. But not for long. He set something down on a table to one side of the bed, and was back on me before I could haul half my heavy body over the threshold. His large hands gripped my waist, circling it, and just serving to remind me of the differences in our size, and lifted me up and over his shoulder again, as if I weighed nothing.

Strung out and at the end of myself, my limbs trembling with exertion, I let myself hang there, until he tossed me back unto the bed. That hurt. Both my leg and head throbbed and my ears rang. If Evan had any mind to do something untoward, he was going to have his chance because I'd had it. I was done. This was all and I had no more. I couldn't even open my eyes.

It did seem Evan had something in mind. The bed sank under his weight and he reached for me, to drag me over to him. But, what he wanted was not what I thought. Instead of the cutting edge of a blade on my skin or his hand fumbling at my fly, he slipped an arm under my shoulders and supported me, while he brought something to my lips.

Cool liquid went down my throat and I coughed, but I swallowed it. Water, or as near as you got in the Entity's realm. After the first few, chocking mouthfuls, I gasped and one of my hands went up to grasp Evan's wrist and keep the cup there because I wanted more. But I had no strength and he shook me off, put the cup aside. Grunting, the man reached for something else and tapped it against my lips. It was hard to tell what he was feeding me. Was it plant or animal? The Entity had no talent replicating what things were meant to taste like and this was like colorless nothing, but it went down and the empty spot down inside me went away.

It was stupid, but I didn't realize I was crying until Evan grunted again and flicked the tears off my face. Stupid to cry because I felt good, but I couldn't help it any more than I could help the fact my overtaxed body decided that moment was the one. The one where it wasn't going to take anymore and was going to shut down.