"Wish there was a torch in that damn box." Rhiannon shivered as she muttered to herself, arms crossed to try and hug some warmth into her body.  The hall, impossibly, seemed colder and danker than 'her' room with little illuminated by the poor lighting.  Across the hall she could barely make out another door and was tempted to knock on it but stopped just outside, too afraid to carry through.

"I'll stay quiet for a bit, I guess." She murmured and continued down the hall cautiously.  Now that she had calmed down the pain from her wrist was making itself acutely known.  The light was too poor to make out what had caused her injury but she had no recollection of it before here.  All variety of fears had flooded her mind regarding the nature of her wound: a tracking agent or maybe a hallucinogen of some kind?  She shook her head as if trying to free her mind of distracting thoughts.

Further down the hall Rhiannon came across two more doors and hesitated. She hadn't even tried to see if any of them were open, one might have even been the way out for all she knew. Somehow she was reluctant to risk anything that might make her situation worse and she could hear nothing from the outside world.  There was no sound of traffic or people no matter how hard she listened so this strange place must have been in the middle of nowhere or sound-proofed; she was unsure which option was more disturbing.

Steeling her resolve, she pushed on but a strange scent pulled her up short.  The smell of the detritus littering the floor, which she was becoming accustomed too, was broken up by a waft of salt.  It was a smell that reminded her of being at the sea but more potent.  Rhiannon moved so that she was in the shadow of the wall rather than the centre of the hall and inched on with her own weapon the water bottle in her hand.