-Marie POV-

"Alright, Alby," I said, as I finished bandaging his hand. "Rest up, and don't use that hand. Your arm won't heal if you keep using it."

"Okay... Marie," he replies. "That's your name right?"

"Yes, now leave," I dismissed him.

"Marie!" Clint yelled, bursting into the infirmary. "We have a Runner coming in. He's all clunked out."

"Who is it?" I asked worriedly.

"Minho," he quickly answered, as he ran out of the door.

Minho? My mind started racing. He fainted out in the maze? Or worse, was he stung?

"Incoming!" one of the runners bellowed, bringing the unconscious glader in. They set him-- more like threw him-- down on the bed and sprinted out.

I rushed over to him and felt his forehead. I recoiled from the heat, but I continued to make a cold compress for him and placed it on his forehead. There weren't any visible external injuries that I could determine, so I just sat down right next to his bed.

"Marie?" Newt called out, as he walked into the infirmary. "Minho is here, right?"

"All clunked out," I replied. "He'll be fine after a few hours of rest. Don't worry. It's just a fever."

At least, I hope it's just a fever.