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Sisyphus peered into the mist. A stone's throw from the precipice, paused. Did he jump or did he fall as he gazed into the maw of the morning mist?
— Sisyphus, Andrew Bird
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━━━━━━ September 17, 2149
THREE DAYS HAD PASSED since Jasper was rescued. He was safe. Clarke had tended to his injury the best she could with what they had, and he seemed to be recovering decently. But he was in pain, and he hadn't shut up for even a second of blissful silence. Every time Casey had shut her eyes for a moment, lingering between waking and dreaming, there he was, crying out in pain.
⠀⠀⠀She knew what Jasper had gone through, and it was made difficult for him even while unconscious. Despite that, everyone in the camp complained. They yelled and cursed at Jasper for his pain, even if they might have done the same. If it were up to Casey, she'd have taken the spear to the chest just so she wouldn't have to hear him.
⠀⠀⠀Casey's shift ended as Monty walked in to take over for her. Casey hadn't slept a whole night since a chunk of her leg was chewed on by a river snake. The lack of blood and the near-death experience made her sleep like a babe in the woods. But every night since, it was like her mind just couldn't parse from analyzing the world. And when she could, Jasper was there in her ear.
