The First Runner

My Dog Has Better Survival Instincts Than Me

I ran with no particular destination in mind. That was the thing about being in a giant ever-shifting stone death trap—you couldn't exactly drop a pin on a map and say, "Yes, I'll go here today." Still, I moved like I had purpose. My boots slapped the stone with a rhythm I'd come to know well, each step echoing in the early morning hush of the Maze. The walls loomed high on either side, cloaked in creeping ivy and moss, like nature was trying to take back what it regretted ever giving.

I had been out here almost every morning since Day Two. Now, officially Day Fourteen, the Maze felt weirdly... familiar. Not in the comforting sense—more like the way a haunted house becomes less scary the more you're forced to live in it. I'd started to track some of the pattern shifts. Turns out watching stone walls change positions is thrilling when it's the only entertainment besides a dog that doesn't bark and conversations with yourself.

My legs burned, and my lungs threatened mutiny, but I didn't slow. Running helped. Not just physically, but mentally. It was the only time my brain didn't feel like it was trying to chew itself from the inside out. I focused on my feet, my breathing, the way the air felt cooler in certain sections. One corridor always smelled like damp metal, another like rotting leaves. I tried not to think about why.

Then I heard it.

A noise. Not the kind I'd grown used to—stone grinding or wind rattling through cracks. This was different. Mechanical and organic at once, like metal being dragged through flesh. A sound that didn't belong in any normal world but made perfect, awful sense here.

I froze.

It was getting louder. Closer. A wet, slithering sort of rumble, like someone had fed a spider to a lawnmower and hit "play" on full volume.

My eyes darted around the corridor. No side paths. No doors. No convenient portal to safety. Just a thick curtain of ivy coating the left wall. I didn't think. I just moved.

I grabbed for the vines, praying they could hold me. My hands slipped on the first few, but I found a sturdy patch and hauled myself up. My boots scrabbled against the wall as I climbed, the rough stone biting into my skin. Higher. Higher. I didn't stop until I was a good ten feet off the ground, wedged between a knot of ivy and a jutting bit of broken stone.

I pressed myself into the vines and held my breath.

Then it came.

A shape emerged from the shadows—massive, glistening, and wrong. So grotesque it made my stomach twist. A bloated body of slick grey flesh fused with whirring mechanical limbs. Blades and needles clicked out of its sides like it was deciding what kind of murder it felt like committing today. It slithered and rolled on a set of spiked wheels that clacked on the stone with bone-chilling rhythm.

My heart stopped.

It moved like it could smell me. Like it was tasting the air with all the intent of a predator that had already decided I was dessert.

But it didn't see me. Or if it did, it didn't care.

It passed underneath my hiding spot, dragging behind it a foul stench that made my eyes water. I didn't dare breathe. Not even a twitch. I clung to that ivy like it was the only thing keeping me from death—which, to be fair, it probably was.

When the sound finally faded, replaced by the distant groan of the Maze shifting again, I didn't move right away. My muscles were locked. My brain refused to reboot.

Eventually, I climbed down, careful not to make a sound.

And then I ran. Hard. Fast. Back the way I'd come, back to the one place that felt remotely like safety.

Bark was waiting near the entrance like always, tail wagging lazily, completely unbothered by the horrors just a corridor away.

I bent over, hands on my knees, sucking in air like I was drowning.

That thing... that thing...

I didn't know how I knew what it was, but the word popped into my head like it had always been there, like someone had whispered it into my dreams:

Griever.

And I was certain that's what it was.

How I knew, I had no clue.

But I knew it in my bones.

And I wasn't going to forget it.

I sat on the ground with my back pressed against the cold stone wall, my heart still hammering like it wanted out of my chest. My legs were shaking from the sprint, my palms scraped raw, and I could feel twigs and dirt tangled in my hair from where I'd practically thrown myself into the ivy. I stared at the Maze doors—now closed—and tried to breathe. Deep, shaky gulps.

Bark padded over and nudged my leg with his snout. I looked at him and let out a breathless, shaky laugh. "You knew," I said, still catching my breath. "You totally knew. That's why you never go in."

He blinked at me, sat down, and licked his paw like the smug little know-it-all he was. Didn't bark—he never barked—but if he could talk, I swear he'd be saying, Told you so.

I reached out and scratched behind his ears. "Smart dog."

I sighed and leaned back against the wall, trying to collect my thoughts. "Okay. Think. Think..." I ran a hand through my hair and winced at a knot. "Griever. That's what it was. I don't know how I know that, but I do. Like it just popped into my head out of nowhere. Ding! You've seen your first nightmare creature: Griever unlocked. Awesome."

I stared at the metal doors again, gleaming dully in the early light. I tried to remember anything else—metal legs, slime, something that looked like needles?—but the details slipped away like static. No solid memories. No useful information.

Except one thing.

"I've never seen one before," I said slowly. "Which means... they're nocturnal."

It made sense. As much as anything in this place ever did. Creepy, slimy, spidery freaks that only came out at night. Classic horror movie logic. Good job, me.

I glanced over at Bark, who gave a quiet huff through his nose.

"Don't look at me like that," I muttered. "You could've warned me before I almost became Griever soup."

He wagged his tail. Not even a shred of remorse.

"Smart dog," I said again, shaking my head.

I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes, just for a second. The Griever's image clung to the inside of my skull—slick, grotesque, skittering like something pulled straight out of a nightmare. It hadn't seen me. Thank whatever's out there for that. But it had been close. Way too close.

The adrenaline was fading now, and all that was left was exhaustion. Heavy limbs. Foggy brain. But no way was I resting. Not yet. I had to figure out how to never let that happen again. No more last-minute escapes. No more brushing elbows with death. No more being an idiot in a killer maze.

I looked over at Bark. "Tomorrow, we're sleeping in. Deal?"

He flopped onto his side like he'd already started.

"Yeah," I murmured, "figured."