"Damn it," Daz looked into the first aid box in disappointment. It had some useful items, but nothing that could help his ankle. Seeing the box at least made him feel more at ease, knowing that Cora was telling the truth.<br/><br/>Hating the idea of moving, Daz still had to agree with what Cora said, giving her a nod as his eyes remained fixed on his ankle. They had to move to solid ground, at the very least.<br/><br/>Daz remembered the words of the woman with the clipboard from when he had been thrown into the maze.<span style="font-style: italic">Reach the centre, and you get out.</span>How were they supposed to find the centre when they didn't even know where they started? It was probably a lie, and just a cheap way of motivating anyone tossed in the maze. A small glint of hope to chase. Getting out was a prize to fight for, but what would happen? Prison or death.<br/><br/>What way could they go? Daz looked up at their options. The first was where they had both come, so he ruled it out. The other two paths had little to differentiate between them. If he was forced to choose, he would take the path to left, since they wouldn't have to skirt around the hole Daz had just moments ago been rescued from.<br/><br/>Cora spoke, and Daz's mouth tightened. There it was. Of course she wanted something from him. Of course, he had needed her first aid kit, so he wasn't entirely innocent. The kit had been a dud, but there was no point for Daz to keep the rations to himself.<br/><br/>"Yeah," Daz said, taking his bag from off his shoulders and taking out a ration packet. He had only been eating quarter portions himself, but as he looked over at Cora he wondered if she had eaten anything since being in the maze. She appeared unhealthy as he looked closer, and when she had opened her bag to show the first aid kit, he hadn't seen any glint of silver.<br/><br/>Daz slid the full ration packet to her. He deliberated for a moment over his knife, which he hesitantly placed back in his bag.<br/><br/>"We can crawl to the path over there, then I'll have to use your shoulder to walk." It was unspoken, but Daz knew that they would be travelling together.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry for what I said. About you. Not your father." Daz managed the apology like it was being pulled out of his very being. It was pointless, but he felt compelled to say it. He still didn't entirely trust Cora, but now she seemed to have shown helpful intentions, even if she was seeking something in return.<br/><br/>As Daz looked at Cora, he noticed her hair, jagged and cut short. He put his hands through his own hair reflexively. It was messy, but not chopped in the same way as hers. Whatever had happened, it didn't seem like her own conscious choice. But what did Daz know about trends in the upper levels?