Fralith floated on a sea of mist, gentle waves rocking him back and forth.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Wind murmured around him, stirring eddies in the mist. It caressed his face and tickled his ears with a strange sound, something like a word.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The waves swelled beneath him and the wind hissed in his ear urgently with that sound. It frisked over the billowing white waves, urging them higher, stronger, rougher. And it hissed again, this time louder and harsher. It was a word, he knew now, the wind was hissing a word. No, words. It was trying to tell him something. Something important. Something urgent.

Beep, beep, beep.

A howl moaned over the waves, now frothing at their crests. They were no longer made of mist, but something else. Something harder, but still soft, just more...solid, like a pillow full of feathers. Hmmmmaaaah, the wind howled. Eeess hmmmaaaah.

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

What was that beeping? It was annoying, like the rough waves and howling wind. He frowned. Why couldn't they stop? He wanted to go back to sleep in the mist. Sleep. Go back to sleep. If he wanted to go back to sleep, didn't that mean he was awake? A particularly hard wave shoved his shoulder, its touch warm, almost like a hand. No, it was a hand, and the wind was someone talking. What? Where—

Beep, beep, beep, beep!

Fralith's eyes flew open to a white ceiling. Glaring light filled the room, making him almost immediately shut them. Where was he? He squinted, unease prickling his neck. A form loomed over him and he cried out, shoving at the surface he was on with his hands and attempting to scuttle away. Hands descended from around him, pushing him down.

"No!" He lifted his hands to shove them away and froze. Bare. His arms were bare. A white rock hung off one of his fingers and a clear tube protruded from his wrist. His breath stuttered to a halt. What had they— another shadow fell over him. Person. It was a person. He whipped his head to the other side. Person. Another person. Her lips were moving, but he didn't understand a word. A blonde strand fell in front of her face. Blonde.

Fralith fell back, all the air gushing out of him as a bucket of ice melt water splashed over him. A RedShirt. She was a RedShirt. Oh no, no, no, no, no, no! The RedShirts here, they'd captured him! They'd captured him and— and— taken his clothes and put strange stuff on him and were going to— going to— he flung himself forward, ripping away from the hands. He scrambled to his feet, heart flip flopping frantically. Gasping for air, he scrambled on all fours to the edge.

Hands grabbed him again, their owner's shouts of alarm and that incessant beep! Beep! Be-ep! rang in his ears. No, no, no! Fralith thrashed, kicking and punching wildly. He had to escape! He had to get out of here! The hands kept coming back, grabbing onto him and pushing him down. "Let me go!" he screamed as arms wrapped around his middle pulled him forwards. Before he could strike back, he was pressed tightly into someone's chest, trapped between it and the person's arms.

He pushed at the person's chest, straining against the arms that pinned him there. His breath rattled with each sharp inhale and exhale, its rhythm snagging with each stumble his heart took. It flipped and flopped in his chest, like it always did when he did things with too much effort. The world tipped and slid, and he collapsed forwards, struggling to breathe, ears ringing with urgent yells and a high pitched, beep, beep, b-beep, be-ep, b-beep, beep!

Fog gusted into his brain, dragging him downwards. No, Fralith groaned inwardly. I don't want to. I need to...I need to...

↶⬝◂⚘▸⬝↷

Fralith didn't know when he woke up next. One moment there was nothing, then he was awake and staring at a pillow. Or, that's what he thought it was. It looked like a pillow. It felt like a pillow. But...calling it a pillow didn't seem right. There was something off about its softness and its weird white patterned shape. It was...it was... the fog pulled away from his mind and comprehension shone in.

He was not staring at a pillow. He was staring at a blanket and his arm. A clear tube with a bright-colored knob ended in his wrist. He followed the length of the tube to a thin metal stand and a clear blob hanging from that stand. What? The paws of his heart picked up speed as the hairs of his neck prickled.

Beep, beep, beep.

The sound drew his eyes past the metal stand to a cluster of odd metal things. The beeping seemed to be coming from one of them, but he couldn't pin down which one was making it. Fraltith frowned and turned his gaze to the ceiling with a shudder. The RedShirts. They've captured me.

What horrible things were they going to do to him? Poke him full of holes? Fill him up with FunnyDreams frog poison? Feed him to a MetalEater? Another shudder scampered down his spine, light feet pricking his skin uncomfortably. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Just...look around. Jatmap prepared us for this situation. If I do what he said, I can get out.

Fralith inhaled deeply and fresh air flowed easily into his lungs. He paused and furrowed his brow. That breath, it'd come easily. That wasn't right— well, it was; breathing should be easy. But in this world, the air wasn't the same and it had always been hard. Until now. Strange.

Pushing the oddity aside, he focused on taking in his surroundings. To his left was the metal stand and other things. To his right were two chairs and a small table. A window sat above the chairs, covered by curtains. From a few of the planks on the ceiling, harsh white light poured down, leaving no room for shadows.

It wasn't the sort of prison Fralith had been expecting, especially with the brightly colored walls. Maybe it was meant to lull him into a sense of safety, in which case, it wasn't working. The colors were too bright. Everything was too bright. Too new. Too weird.

He sighed and continued looking. At the foot of his bed, the room extended. There were two doors, and at one of them was a man. Fralith started, a gasp escaping him. The man, wearing the same blue shirt as the ones who burst through the door during the fight, looked up from a rectangle. Fralith stared at him for a few beats, heart racing. Was he in league with the RedShirts? Was he the one that brought him here?

The man pocketed his rectangle and stood, opening the door he was sitting next to. He stepped out, calling something in his language, then closed the door.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Fralith blinked at the empty chair. A guard, he realized. He's guarding me. I AM captured. He groaned and made to bury his face in his arm. Pain — the pesky bird it was — stabbed its beak into his arm. He winced and settled it back on the bed. Injured. Right.

The man with the object had hit him with a pellet. Where was the man now? What happened to him? What had happened to the girl and the boy? Had they been captured too? He shivered. Please be okay. Please don't be captured like me. I don't want to be here for nothing.

With another sigh, he checked on his arm. Bright white bandages hugged his skin, hiding the throbbing wound from sight. It took a lot of carefully shifting and more effort than he'd liked, but eventually he managed to unbandage his arm. The wound wasn't as bad as he expected. His skin, red and swollen, contrasted with five neat stitches holding the wound closed, suggesting that it wasn't too deep.

The pellet hadn't done much damage, unlike the wound he'd given the man. Fralith quirked his lip and started gently wrapping his arm. His knife had gone straight through the bone and— where was his knife? He froze, eyes widening. His knife! He couldn't lose it, it was noren! His father would kill him for losing such a precious thing.

He sat up — disregarding the stab of pain that caused — and shoved back the blanket. A blue gown. That was all. No shirt, no shawl, no belt, and no knife. Not even pants.

They had taken his knife.

Ringing filled his ears and the familiarity of his heart pounding irregularly against his ribs consumed his senses. RedShirts. Strange bed. Strange tubes. No clothes. No knife. He was helpless. His only weapon was gone.

Beep, beep! Beep-beep! Beeeep! Beep!

His chest constricted, and he put a hand to it, curling his fingers into a fist. His knife, his noren knife, was gone. They had taken it. How would he defend himself? How would he escape? Oh, his father would be so mad. Fralith squeezed his eyes shut, holding back a whimper.

Click.

His eyes flew open, breath stuttering. They were coming! A woman and the guard walked through the door. The guard closed the door and sat while the woman approached, smiling. "Ah, you're up. Good afternoon."

Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beeeep!

Fralith shuffled backwards until his back hit the wall. The pressure in his chest strengthened and he gasped. Leave me alone you— you knife stealing person!

The woman glanced towards the beeping, frowning. She walked over to his bedside, hands outstretched. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're in North Hemisphere Hospital and we're here to help you. Take deep breaths for me, okay? There's no need to be afraid."

Beep, beep! Beep-beep! Beeeep! Beep!

He pressed himself farther into the wall, chest heaving and wide eyes fixed on her. What was she going to do to him? Her words meant nothing to him. She wasn't a RedShirt, but she must be in league with them. There was no other way she'd be here.

"...The police brought you here last night. When you woke up, you freaked out. Your heart has a problem and should not be stressed so we had to sedate you. It's only been a few hours. Are your parents nearby?"

"Leave— me alone!" Fralith gasped. He didn't understand what she was saying; none of the words made sense. Nothing made sense. He curled his knees to his chest and wrapped his uninjured arm around it, making himself small.

"Can you understand me?" The woman touched his back.

He flinched away and curled up tighter. "Go away!" Don't hurt me. Let me go home. The woman kept talking, her tone soothing and kind, like a mother's crooning to her baby. Fralith ignored her, tears burning his eyes and heart flapping around helplessly like a wet bird. He just wanted to go home. Home where it was safe. Where RedShirts couldn't hurt him. Where it was familiar.

Home, where his family was. Where they could protect him.