• Trial One: The Maze •
||𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑|| Blake was said to have tamed the vicious robotic creature, Seven. She was granted the nickname Griever Tamer. But was the creature ever really tamed? Or was it just a distraction, a way that WICK...
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"What the shuck just happened," Minho asked, with his mouth agape.
"Seven just saved us."
Her Griever friend, leaned its body against the wall, making some kind of whimper. Seven's three-fingered claw was rubbing against the wall, creating a scratching sound of rusty metal. Blake took a step towards the creature when Minho grabbed her shoulder keeping her back. "We gotta go."
Blake shook her head, shaking off Minho's hand. "I think he's hurt."
"It's not time to play shucking doctor. Let's go."
She didn't listen. Blake took slow steps towards the injured creature. Minho let out an annoyed groan but followed Blake towards Seven. The creature scraped against the wall, seeming like a mouse trying to escape getting eaten."Seven, it's okay."
Seven head turned around, inhaling gurgling breaths. Its spikes moving in and out of its body after every breath. Blake moved so she was near the side of its gooey head, searching his body for injuries.
"It smells horrible," Minho complained, plugging his nose.
Blake rolled her eyes and continued to search. She noticed a seeping gash near Seven's neck, full of stringy slime and black ink spilling from it. "I think the other Griever stabbed him with its spike."
"Wish I could have stabbed it."
"Can you make yourself useful and hand me a shirt?"
Minho took his pack off, unzipping it, and handing her a black shirt. Blake folded it and pressed it firmly against the wound. Seven let out a cry, causing needles and metallic arms to fly everywhere. "I'm trying to help you."
"How are you supposed to hold that on him? Duck tape wouldn't stay he's too gooey and gross," Minho said, examining his pack for anything useful.
"I don't know," Blake said, feeling lost.
Minho signed. "Maybe the stupid Creators will fix him up."
"Doubt that."
"You never know."
It was quiet for a moment as they tried to figure out what to do. Blake just hoped the wound wasn't too serious, that Seven, would be okay.
"Why you think he saved us?" Minho asked, armed folded.
"Like I said before he's special. He wouldn't hurt me. Still can't believe I actually created this thing," Blake said, circling around the creature, searching for more wounds.
"Yeah, you got one messed up mind."
Then, suddenly, like Seven was being called to go back, he got up despite its wound and started to try to roll away. "What is he doing?"
