Aiyana Red Elk — Point of View
Light. Soft, blurry light. Aiyana blinked against it, her eyelids heavy, her vision swimming. The ceiling above her wasn’t the one she remembered. It wasn’t concrete or dim. And it wasn’t humming with the low mechanical thrum she’d grown used to. This light was warm. Still. Safe.
Her throat felt dry and her body felt heavy. Her mind felt… slow. She tried to move her fingers. They twitched. Aiyana swallowed, the motion painful but real. She was awake.
###
Samantha Wolf-Iverson — Point of View
Samantha had been dozing in the chair, chin tucked against her chest, when she felt movement — the faintest shift of the bedsheets. Her eyes snapped open.
“Aiyana?”
The girl’s eyelids fluttered again. Not dreamlike this time. Not drifting. Trying.
Samantha stood slowly, careful not to startle her. “Aiyana… hey. You’re safe. You’re at the clinic.”
Aiyana’s gaze moved toward the sound of Samantha’s voice, unfocused at first, then sharpening by degrees. Her lips parted. No words came out — just a small, rasping breath. Samantha dipped a sponge into the cup of water and touched it gently to Aiyana’s lips. “Just a little. Don’t force it.”
Aiyana swallowed again. Her eyes watered at the sensation. Then she whispered — hoarse, barely audible,
“Where…?”
“Red Rock Flats Clinic,” Samantha whispered. “You’re safe. You’re not there anymore.”
Aiyana’s brow tightened. Fear flickered across her face — instinctive, conditioned. Samantha shook her head gently. “No one here will hurt you. I promise.”
###
Aiyana Red Elk — Point of View
Safe. The word didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel possible. Her chest tightened, breath catching. Her heart sped up.
Samantha’s voice softened. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Aiyana blinked hard, grounding herself in the sound. The voice was familiar. Kind. Not like theirs. She tried to speak again, her voice thin and cracked.
“South…”
The word scraped out of her — not drifting like before, not slurred in sleep. This time, it carried tension. Fear. A reflex more than a memory.
Samantha’s hand hovered near her shoulder — not touching it, just the presence.
“I know,” Samantha murmured. “You said it when you were unconscious. The team’s already looking into it. You don’t have to explain it right now.”
Aiyana closed her eyes briefly, exhausted by the effort. When she opened them again, Samantha was still there. She was calm. She was still safe.
Aiyana’s throat tightened. “Please…” she whispered.
Samantha leaned in. “What do you need?”
Aiyana swallowed, breath trembling. “Don’t… leave.”
###
Samantha Wolf-Iverson — Point of View
Samantha’s chest ached at the words. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered. “I’ll stay right here.”
Aiyana’s eyes fluttered, relief loosening the tension in her shoulders. She wasn’t fully awake — not yet — but she was present enough to know she wasn’t alone. Samantha pulled the chair closer to the bed.
“Rest,” she murmured. “You’re safe now.”
Aiyana’s breathing slowed, her eyelids lowering again — not drifting into unconsciousness this time, but settling into a fragile, waking rest. Samantha watched her, heart steadying. Aiyana was back. Not whole. Not healed. But back. And that was enough for now.