She woke to blue-white sunlight behind her eyelids, and enough of a headache, she immediately assumed Mama Petra had let her sleep in. 

Ivy gave a contented sigh and immediately let go of her hold on semiconsciousness. Dahlia and Logan would have gone to feed the hens, then, and Rosie would be watching Briar and Lily. She could get in a few more minutes of sleep, at least. Enough to shake the pounding in her head, and the strange, pervasive weakness, making her feel lethargic before she'd even truly woken. 

She started to roll over, to duck her face beneath the sheets -- they felt scratchier than normal this morning -- and stopped. 

Something was touching her hand. Something furry. 

Ivy let out a groan, knowing, even before she opened her eyes, Aspen had secreted away another stray puppy who'd somehow found his adorable way into her bed, and somehow, it was going to be Ivy's fault. 

"Aspen," Ivy muttered as she through and arm over her eyes. "You better not have -- "

Something was wrong. Something very, very big, was very, [i]very[/i] wrong. 

Ivy opened her eyes, heart already racing, and couldn't immediately place what it was. 

Oh, there were several [i]little[/i] things. The air reeked of iron and rust. Sunlight streamed through a hole in the ceiling, revealing a room that was nothing like the bedroom she shared with her sisters back home. She felt weak, shaky, almost cold. Her head ached. Her blanket was a blanket, but an old, unfamiliar cloak. 

It wasn't until her eyes fell on the Jaeger sleeping beside her that Ivy remembered. 

The ÜberOven. The fire. The townsfolk chasing her away from her home. The swamp. The toads. The queen. 

Ivy was shaking now, color leeching from her skin as she began to hyperventilate. 

"Oh, no," she whimpered. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no..."

Flash of last night kept streaming through, overwhelming her, and yet there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

The toads had found them, and they'd fought, she and Jötz, her Jaeger, her [i]friend[/i] and savior. He'd been upset over something silly -- a hat? -- and she'd tried to make him feel better. She'd showed him a handful of gore, and...

Ivy knew then what was wrong. She knew it was real, and not a dream, and yet she couldn't look down, because there was a crippling, horrible certainty if she did that, she might go insane, and that would be bad. 

She shut her eyes and flexed her left hand. 

She could feel it there, couldn't she? Could feel her fingers open and close? There was no pain, no fever, no haze of delirium? And how was that possible if what she thought had happened had actually happened? 

No. No, it must have been a dream, some horrible nightmare caught in a web of dark reality. Jötz had saved her life two, three times already. Why would he hurt her? He wouldn't. He hadn't. 

Ivy sat there, frozen, her heart rate slowly returning to normal as she assured herself all was well. She was a Spark, sure, hunted by family and friends, lost in the wastelands that had thrice tried to kill her. But not [i]all[/i] was lost. She felt weak from hunger, her head ached from dehydration. Not blood loss. Not fear. 

She was almost smiling when at last she opened her eyes and held up her left arm for inspection, already flexing the fingers she knew would be there. 

They weren't. 

Ivy screamed and bucked to her feet, dropping Jötz hand like it burned. 

She backed away, her arm held out as though she didn't trust it. Her eyes were wide, focused on his face. 

"[i]What did you do?[/i]" she demanded, her voice half shriek, half whimper. "[i][b]What did you do to me?!?[/b][/i]"

She stared, as if she expected an answer, feeling dizzy again, feeling her vision close in at the edges. But she refused to pass out. Not here. She had done that once before and woken sans arm. 

She glared at the Jaeger, her gaze equal parts accusatory and hurt, betrayed. "[i]Why?[/i]" she managed, and only then realized she was crying. She shook her head, furious. 

"Go [i]away[/i]! I hate you! I [i]hate[/i] you!"

She backed away from him until she hit a wall, then briefly peered up through the hole they'd made crashing through the ground yesterday. She could get up there, she thought. She could climb out, maybe, and run away. She didn't know where she was, or how to get home, or anywhere, but her chances were better out there, alone. Mama Petra had always told her she'd been too naive for her own good. "You'd trust anything with a smile," she'd said. "Always forgetting a shark always smiles before the kill."

Mama Petra had been right. Of course she had. 

Mama Petra was always right.