Anakin didn't really know where he was going. Just that he was walking in the direction decidedly opposite from Obi-Wan. He didn't bother turning around to see where the tribute was going. Anakin decided that he didn't really want to know.

He looked down at the sword in his hand. A weapon. He had managed to at least snag a weapon in the chaos at the Cornucopia. He figured that was better than nothing—no, much better than nothing, because Anakin was pretty sure there were still more than a handful of tributes who hadn't managed to get anything at all. There were always tributes like that, although Anakin wouldn't put it past any of the tributes to die right away, either. There had been some victors who had proved that they didn't need weapons to win the games.

Still, Anakin supposed that it didn't hurt that he had something to fend other people off with. He spun the sword around his wrist as he stepped over pine needles and fallen branches. He couldn't tell how much time had passed: there wasn't too much light filtering through the tree canopy, save for the occasional glimmer of sun against a rock.

Anakin stuck a hand in his jacket pocket, curled his hand around the empty canteen. He should find water.

Anakin looked around the forest. There were so many trees—they had to have water nearby.

But then again, this was also an arena made by a group of sadists, so for all Anakin knew, the only source of water might have been the patch of snow Anakin had seen when he had first entered the arena. But that area of snow had been on the other side, and if Anakin was supposed to walk through this entire forest…

Anakin listened for something that might indicate otherwise: a stream, a pond, anything.

All he got was silence.

Anakin frowned. That was weird. He looked around the forest. He would have at least expected bugs, at least. Birds, definitely. There had always been animals in past games, but right now, no sound greeted Anakin.

A chill ran up Anakin's spine. He tightened his grip on the sword and pressed forward.

So no animals. No birds, which also meant less of a chance to find water. So he really might have to walk through this whole forest…

Anakin's feet were already aching from walking and running around in these too-large boots. He took another two, three steps forward before coming to a stop. Anakin looked down at his shoes and scowled. Thanks, he thought to no one in particular.

Leaning against a tree, Anakin took off one of the boots. He turned it upside down, patted out the last of the dirt before looking down at his jacket. The one that Obi-Wan had tossed him. Anakin shrugged out of his jacket and set it down on the ground. He didn't have anything else, so this would have to do.

Anakin tore the bottom half of the jacket with the sword. He remembered seeing his mom doing something like this—his mom always had shoes that never really fit her, either. They were always too big or too small, and Anakin had watched her walk around with a limp that shouldn't have been there.

Anakin balled up the fabric and stuffed them in the boots. He swung the now shorter jacket over his shoulders, picked up his sword again. Anakin stood up and, brushing the dirt from his hands, started back down the forest when he heard it.

A creak of a branch.

Anakin didn't slow his step as he heard the sound again: quieter this time, but definitely there.

Above him.

Anakin adjusted his grip on the sword.

He took another few steps forward, and he heard that creaking again, and Anakin knew that he was being followed. Judging by the sounds, one of the smaller, younger tributes. For a brief second, Anakin wondered if it could possibly be District 11—but no, she had run off far before Anakin had, and there was no way Anakin could have caught up to her by now.

Anakin tried to think of the other possibilities—but no, he couldn't think, because that creaking had come again, and Anakin heard the whistle of something coming behind him—

At the last second, Anakin jumped out of the way. He stopped short next to a tree as he spotted a knife glinting on the spot where he had just been. Anakin stared at it for a moment incredulously before looking up to see a young boy—District 12, Anakin realized—scrambling up the tree branches.

The boy looked over his shoulder once, and for a moment, Anakin thought the boy would just keep running away—but no, Anakin saw the glint of another life a second later, and this time, Anakin ducked behind a tree in time to avoid getting his face sliced open. The knife hit the tree behind Anakin instead, and he watched the hilt slightly sway from the impact.

Anakin heard more creaking above him—faster now, quicker footfalls.

He couldn't stay here.

Anakin looked up.

Or he had to get the kid down.

Anakin twisted the sword around in his wrist.

Or.

Anakin looked at the knife still wobbling in the tree behind him. He reached over and plucked the knife out of the bark. He turned the handle over in his hand and looked back up at the branches. At the boy, still dancing amongst them. Anakin could already see him palming another knife. How many did this kid even have?

Anakin glanced to the opposite tree. He already saw the first branch he could climb up, then the next.

Anakin stepped up.

He had only reached the first branch when he felt something hit his head—hard—and hit the ground.

Ahsoka stepped over a fallen tree branch. There wasn't anyone around her save for Barriss, but still, Ahsoka didn't want to risk stepping on anything too loud in this place.

This place, which had grown drastically darker.

Ahsoka hadn't been too sure what to make of the darkness at first. The sunlight—what little there was of it, anyways—had been difficult enough to keep track of, with the thick branches overhead, but now Ahsoka could barely see a few steps in front of herself, and judging by Barriss' faltering steps, she had the feeling she wasn't the only one growing uneasy by the darkness.

"Maybe we should…"

"Set up camp?" Ahsoka finished. She looked at Barriss, and even in the darkness, Ahsoka could see the glint of her new ally's eyes.

"Exactly," Barriss replied. She lifted her head to the tree branches ahead. "Staying above ground might be safer."

Ahsoka thought of all the ways someone could sneak up and slit her throat just on the ground alone. Then again, she supposed Barriss could also slit her throat in her sleep either way, but if they were on a tree branch, Ahsoka figured she probably had a better chance of shoving Barriss off. The thought made Ahsoka feel cold, and when she looked at Barriss, she wondered if her ally was thinking the same thing.

But Ahsoka nodded. "Choose a tree," she said.

Ahsoka thought she saw Barriss smile, but it was too dark to tell.

Barriss turned on the spot. And after a few moments, she pointed to the tree in front of them. "That one."

"Well, then," Ahsoka said, stepping back. "After you."

Barriss nodded. She hopped up to the tree, and Ahsoka watched as Barriss climbed up the tree with surprising ease. Ahsoka waited until Barriss was a few feet in the air before following. She found that climbing wasn't difficult either, even as the bark scratched at her palms. She kept up with Barriss' pace, and in no time at all, they were both sitting on one of the thicker branches, their legs dangling over the edge.

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence.

"How many do you think died tonight?" Barriss asked after a while.

Ahsoka looked down at the ground. It was dark enough that she didn't worry about anyone finding their tracks. "I don't know," she replied. "Did you see anyone…"

"No," Barriss replied. She looked at Ahsoka and paused. "Do you mind if I climb up?"

Ahsoka realized that maybe Barriss was just as wary of herself, too.

"Sure." Ahsoka scooted against the trunk so Barriss could more easily haul herself up to an upper branch. Once that was done, Ahsoka found herself leaning against the trunk by herself. She stretched out her legs on the branch, brought up one knee to her chest. She tried to think of next steps. Get water. Get food. Try not to run into any more tributes.

Ahsoka closed her eyes. Water and food. Those were priorities for tomorrow. Her stomach growled a little now, and again, Ahsoka wondered where all the animals were, if there were any at all. But if there weren't any, Ahsoka figured there had to at least be some edible plants...her dad had made her learn about all those plants, after all, and he would be ashamed if she didn't find something in this stupid forest—

Ahsoka blinked her eyes open. Edible plants. Right.

She turned around to the trunk and grinned.

A few seconds later, Ahsoka took to cutting away a piece of bark. She heard Barriss stir above her and a moment later, Barriss asked, "What are you doing? If someone hears us—"

"Relax," Ahsoka replied, "no one can hear us up here." She loosed a piece of bark and passed it up to Barriss. "Besides. Dinner."

A beat of silence and then Barriss said, "Of course."

"Uh-huh," Ahsoka replied, sticking a piece of bark in her mouth. She winced—it was tougher than she thought it would be. But then again, she supposed sh couldn't complain.

"I thought District 11 didn't have pine trees," Barriss said.

"We don't," Ahsoka replied. She took another bite of the bark. This time, it went down a little easier, but still, Ahsoka wished that she could have found some more manageable plant thing to eat. She remembered her dad saying something about boiling pine needles, but Ahsoka didn't want to go down to the ground to make a fire now. Pine needles, pine bark...Ahsoka hoped that the game makers didn't seriously expect the tributes to live off the trees for the entirety of the games. Or maybe they did. She wouldn't put it past them, but…

Ahsoka grimly took another bite out of the bark. "We'll find better food tomorrow," she said decidedly.

"I can't complain," Barriss said lightly. "This is fine."

Despite herself, Ahsoka managed a smile. "We're still finding better things tomorrow," she said.

"As you wish," Barriss replied.

They were quiet for a little while longer before Ahsoka said, "I can take the first watch."

"Are you sure?"

Ahsoka didn't get to reply: trumpets sounded through the arena loud enough to shake the branches around her. Ahsoka straightened, and she reached down to grab ahold of the branch she was sitting on so she wouldn't fall off. Above, she heard Barriss trying to do the same thing as—

"We are pleasantly surprised to share that there have been no deaths tonight," came the announcer's voice. There was a pause. Ahsoka imagined there were other tributes straightening at this news too—and probably feeling the same mixture of dread in their stomachs. There were still twelve of them.

"Happy Hunger Games."

The trumpets sounded again, and then there was silence.

The arena was too quiet.

Obi-Wan had already known that it was too quiet since he had parted ways with Anakin—without another person actually at his side, Obi-Wan had only become more aware of how little sound there was. He had gone through the entirety of the silence when the trumpets started playing and the announcements came on.

No deaths.

Obi-Wan leaned back against the tree he had chosen to settle for the night. He kept both of his legs on the branch—he didn't need anyone seeing even the slightest movement of his legs, even if the darkness might make it difficult for anyone to see anything.

Obi-Wan kept his sword at his side too. He wisted it around in his hand. Swords. He hadn't always used swords in his own private lessons, but Qui-Gon had still been insistent that Obi-Wan learn at least a little bit of each weapon. (Only that insistence, of course, had only come up after Qui-Gon had discovered that Obi-Wan was training himself to begin with.)

Obi-Wan looked up at the small patch of sky above him. That was another thing about the arena—there were no stars. Just a deep, uneasy blackness that made Obi-Wan feel like he was closing his eyes.

So Obi-Wan closed his eyes now.

Only he didn't fall asleep. He was still very aware of the sword hilt in his hand and the rough branch underneath him and the pine needles gently shaking down in the breeze.

Pay attention.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed. Quiet—the arena was too quiet.

And it wasn't that Obi-Wan minded the quiet: he had gotten used to the quiet in his own home, and he had gotten used to the quiet as one would an old friend. But this kind of quiet unsettled Obi-Wan. This kind of quiet reminded Obi-Wan too much of the quiet that had occurred both before and after Qui-Gon had told him that he would be going into the games, no matter whose name Satine pulled out of the lottery.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and re-focused on the patch of black sky above him. He didn't need those thoughts to distract him right now. What mattered was that he was still in the arena now, and he still had the games to win.

Obi-Wan shifted against the tree trunk again, not minding if it grated a little against his back. He rested an arm over a raised-up knee and looked down at the ground below him. He couldn't see much save for the occasional upraised root that dared take shape against the blackness. But besides that, there was nothing.

Obi-Wan had just closed his eyes when that nothing was interrupted.

Running footsteps—no, not running footsteps, staggering footsteps—dragged Obi-Wan's eyes back open. Staggering footsteps, followed by loud breaths and a strange keening sound that sent the hairs at the back of Obi-Wan's neck on end.

He straightened against the tree trunk and looked to the direction where the noise was coming from—

And a moment later, a young woman with twin braids down her back—District 5—crashed through the trees. Obi-Wan couldn't make out her face, but he could hear her: the raw, hard breaths coming out of her throat, that strange, terrified keening sound that Obi-Wan had a bad feeling about.

He looked out from where District 5 had just come from. He couldn't see anyone following, but when he looked down, he could see that the tribute was clearly limping. Limping, and—

And then she was falling, not even bothering to catch herself with her hands as she hit the ground. Obi-Wan wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, slowly stood up on the branch. He looked again to where District 5 had just come from. And again, he couldn't hear anyone coming after her, but…

Obi-Wan stared down at District 5.

She was moving still, but not really moving anywhere. Her legs and arm twitched, her face still buried into the ground.

Obi-Wan paused. He could still hear her ragged breaths—she was struggling now, gasping and choking on her own spit.

And then, so quietly that Obi-Wan might not have heard it if he wasn't already listening: "Please."

Obi-Wan's blood ran cold as District 5 turned her head. Somehow, she had managed at least that much—and Obi-Wan saw the gleam of blood on her mouth.

She was looking at him.

She had known he was there—somehow, she had known.

"Please," she whispered again, and Obi-Wan understood.

He climbed down the tree and curled his hand around the hilt of his sword.

She stopped twitching.

And then the buzzing started.

Anakin woke up to a pair of curious green eyes that were too close for comfort.

And apparently too close for comfort for the owner of the eyes too, because District 12 backed away with a surprised yelp. A surprised yelp, that was, and a scramble up the tree in front of Anakin. Not that District 12 really needed to do that—Anakin's head hurt too much for him to understand what was going on except that first of all, it was dark, and second of all, he was lying on the ground.

How long had he been—

Anakin jerked up, his hand already closing around—

Sword. Where'd the sword—

Anakin looked up and there, in the higher branches, he spotted the glint of the sword resting at the edge.

"You've got to be kidding me," Anakin muttered. He started to stand up—tried to stand up, but his head hurt, and for a moment, Anakin could only see a blur of the ground and the tree in front of him. He brought a hand up to his head, saw the red of the blood come away on his fingertips.

Huh.

Anakin lifted his head back. District 12 was still watching him, albeit from a higher branch.

"So," he said, his voice coming out hoarser than he expected. How long had he been out? "Couldn't do it?"

"You were supposed to die," came the boy's annoyed response.

"Sorry to disappoint," Anakin muttered, looking around the base of the tree. He looked back up at the boy. He was still hovering near the branches, his green eyes narrowed now. It struck Anakin odd that this was somehow the same kid who had just been throwing knives at him just a few...hours ago? Probably hours. He didn't feel that stiff.

"So you're not gonna bother finishing it?" Anakin asked. "Because if you're not…" He pointed to the branch high above the boy's head. "I'd like that back."

"So you can kill me? I don't think so," the boy shot back.

Fair, Anakin thought.

"It's not like I can get up to you anyways," Anakin said.

"Good," the boy said. He climbed up another branch of the tree.

Anakin waited. He didn't know what he was waiting for—most likely another knife. In that case, Anakin wasn't sure exactly how fast he could be. Or how coordinated he would be. Anakin brought his hand to his head again, tried not to wince at the wet feeling on his fingertips. Head wounds usually bleed a lot. It could just be worse than it actually was.

Anakin dropped his hand back down to his side. "So you're not gonna bother finishing it?" he repeated. He waved a hand. "Right here, kid."

The boy scowled, and for a moment, he seemed to reach for something—one of his knives, Anakin was sure, but then he looked back down at Anakin.

Anakin looked back up at him.

There had to be a way he could get up there…

The boy looked away first. And then he was climbing higher and higher up the tree. Anakin watched the boy pick up the sword and keep climbing until ANakin couldn't see him anymore. At least, for that moment—

And then, right when Anakin thought that the boy had somehow, miraculously decided to leave him alone, a knife came flying his way.

Anakin dove out of the way as the knife dug itself into the ground. His head spun with the effort, and the world tilted dangerously for a moment, and there was a strange buzzing in his ears, but now—now Anakin had a weapon—

Anakin ducked his head against the tree as another knife came flying down towards him.

He looked to where the two knives now sat on the ground.

His stomach twisted.

He picked them both up, and he had just started turning to look up at the tree when—

The buzzing had grown louder in Anakin's head.

Or he had thought it was in his head.

He heard the rustle of branches above him, and Anakin watched as District 12 suddenly dove away. He was faster than Anakin expected, and, to his annoyance, carrying his sword, but he was running away—

Anakin turned around.

And then he was running, too.

Ahsoka woke up with a start.

At first, she didn't know why—it was still dark out, and she didn't see anyone coming out of the trees, but then she heard it: a soft, insistent buzzing that hadn't been in the forest before.

Ahsoka looked up to find that Barriss was already awake. She was sitting up too, her eyes turned to the trees beyond. When noticing that Ahsoka was awake, Barriss whispered, "Do you hear that too?"

"Yes." Ahsoka stood up, resting on the branch above her. She paused. "It sounds like…" The buzzing grew louder, and suddenly, Ahsoka remembered a time when she'd be out with her brothers at the end of the day. They'd hear people going back to their homes—all dragging feet and half-sung songs and above it all, the hum of—

"Bugs," Ahsoka whispered.

"But how could bugs be that—" Barriss was interrupted by a shrill scream.

They both froze.

That scream wasn't far off.

"I think we should go," Ahsoka said.

Barriss didn't say anything. She just nodded.

And then the two were scrambling down from the tree as fast as they could. The bark scraped and scratched at Ahsoka's hands, but she would worry about that later. She stood back for Barriss to make the last jump down to the ground, and they had only just started to take a few running steps away from the tree when the buzzing grew louder—and then, Ahsoka heard the flutter of heavy wings—

Wings? But how big did the bugs have to be for Ahsoka to hear the wings—

Ahsoka turned around.

And then she turned back around, grabbing Barriss' hand. "Run faster," she said.

"What?"

"Run faster," Ahsoka said through gritted teeth.

Barriss turned briefly, and with a quiet gasp, she turned back around. "Those things are—"

"I know," Ahsoka replied. She didn't want to look back again. One look had been enough for Ahsoka to know that the bugs flying after them weren't the small bees or wasps that had bothered her back home. This was the arena, and of course, no bug could be normal. Far from it, because Ahsoka had taken one look at the man-sized bug with its glistening, translucent wings and its threateningly black, shining stinger, and worse than that—where there should be a bug's legs, Ahsoka saw distinctly human-looking arms. Four arms or maybe six, Ahsoka hadn't been able to count, but either way, those were human arms.

Ahsoka didn't want to think of what would happen if the bug got close enough to grab them.

Somewhere, a cannon boomed.

"The gamemakers got bored," Barriss said in between breaths. "That's why they had to release those things."

Ahsoka didn't reply. She stuck her hand in her pocket, grasped the knife waiting there. She could hear the buzzing and the wings coming much closer now, and she wondered if it was worth it to throw the knife—if that could catch the bug off-balance or—

But then Ahsoka heard something else: the whistle of something flying through the air, something fast and familiar, and Ahsoka yanked Barriss down to the ground in time for a dart to lodge itself in the tree next to them.

Now, out of all times—

Ahsoka didn't have enough time to even complete that thought, because that second of covering Barriss and herself had cost them a valuable second, and Ahsoka knew that that had been her mistake. The buzzing and beating of wings were directly above them now, and Ahsoka actually smelled something coming from the bug: something sour and rotten and so dead that Ahsoka tasted bile in her mouth as she rolled over on her back and—

She drove the knife into the bug's stinger before it could catch her on the throat. The bug shrieked: a startingly human sound that did little to help the pitching and roiling in Ahsoka's stomach. She rolled away as the bug's wings faltered, and then the bug was falling forward.

Ahsoka let go out of Barriss' hand, and they both rolled in opposite directions away from the bug as it hit the ground. As Ahsoka rolled up to her knee, though, she found not darts but more bugs flying out from the trees.

So many more.

Ahsoka's stomach lurched again.

"Barriss," she started, and she turned around to see Barriss holding up Ahsoka's knife.

For a heart-stopping second, Ahsoka wondered if this was where Barriss would—

But Barriss was holding up the end of the stinger too. "I cut it off," she said grimly. She passed Ahsoka back her knife. Her eyes flicked to beyond, where the bugs were nearing. "We can't hold them off—there's too many."

"I know," Ahsoka said. "So we have to—"

"No," Barriss said urgently. "There's too many of them—and there's two of us. There'll be more attracted to us sooner or later, but if we split up now—"

Ahsoka's heart sank. She hadn't expected it to sink this fast. "But—"

"Go," Barriss said. She waved the stinger in the air with a wry smile. "I'll be fine."

Ahsoka paused. She could hear the wings still coming closer, but still, she took another look at Barriss. After a moment, she said, "I really, really hope I don't see you again."

Barriss smiled. "Likewise," she said.

And then she turned and ran.

Ahsoka turned and ran too, and when she looked back, she found that the bugs had, in fact, actually split into two different directions. There were fewer bugs following Ahsoka now, but—still, more than she would have liked. Ahsoka started to turn back around, only this time to hear another dart flying her way.

So apparently, District 10 had chosen to chase Ahsoka instead.

Wonderful.

Ahsoka ducked behind a tree. She heard the wood protest at the dart, heard the bugs' buzzing grow nearer. There were too many noises—too many things to keep track of, and Ahsoka wondered if this was maybe payback for herself wondering why the forest was so quiet. She looked behind the tree and spotted the bugs flying closer. Their arms—arms—were extended, their glittering black eyes focused—

Ahsoka swallowed. Well. A tribute and three human-sized bugs. She shouldn't have been surprised, but—she could hear rapid footsteps now. So District 10 was coming for a fight? Now? Fine.

Ahsoka curled her hand around her knives and stepped out from behind the tree.

Only to nearly barrel them into a decidedly non-District 10 tribute.

"What are you doing?" District 3 gasped. "Don't just stand there, come on!"

Ahsoka knew that this would probably be the perfect time to get rid of one tribute. Who knew—maybe this tribute would be the one to stab her in the back or turn away, but all of that rationale drained out of Ahsoka's head. And all she felt instead was relief—cool, welcoming relief that at least she wouldn't be as alone as she had felt just a few seconds ago.

Bad idea, Ahsoka told herself, but still, she ran with District 3.

Obi-Wan ran alone.

That didn't seem to matter to the bugs now. Where there had once only been one bug on Obi-Wan's tail now had multiplied into three, and now he wove in between the trees, not daring to look back. If he looked back, he would slow down, and Obi-Wan didn't want to know what would happen once the bugs reached him. If it was anything like what happened to District 5, though, Obi-Wan imagined that his last moments would be unpleasant, to say the least.

He ran through the trees. Deeper and deeper into the forest he went, and with each passing step, the whole place seemed to grow darker and darker, too. He hoped he wouldn't run into anything—that would be embarrassing, too, perhaps more embarrassing and much more unimpressive than dying by the stingers of the bugs that followed him now.

Obi-Wan heard something thump behind him, and then the guttural shriek of a bug meeting its end.

That was when Obi-Wan turned around.

"I don't suppose you're only here to take care of the bugs, are you?" Obi-Wan asked Maul.

"I'm afraid not."

"How disappointing," Obi-Wan said, and he watched a streak of black jumped down from one of the other tree branches. A gruesome cut of Savage's swords, and the second bug was on the ground, twitching under the tribute's boots.

And Obi-Wan supposed he would have been a little grateful for at least two of the bugs to be taken care of—but he couldn't say the same about the two tributes now leering at him. Really, Obi-Wan thought wearily, he didn't know what he had done to possibly offend the tributes to the point that they seemed to follow him. Except perhaps the incident in the training room. And perhaps the fact that these were the games.

That'll do it, Obi-Wan thought as he drew his sword. Somewhere, he was aware of the last bug still fluttering around, but it, too, seemed to be hesitating, waiting. Obi-Wan wasn't surprised. That was the thing about anything in the arena: they weren't like any of the normal animals in the districts. There was always something, even beyond the bug's vast size and its strange arms.

When Savage and Maul both lunged, Obi-Wan used the tree behind him to kick himself over their heads. He landed on the back of the bug Savage had just killed, and for a disorienting second, Obi-Wan almost slipped off the bug's surprisingly greasy back—and the smell—

Obi-Wan lifted his sword as Maul and Savage both turned around, their yellow eyes furious.

Obi-Wan only extended his arms. Come now, he thought. They didn't think he would simply stand there, did they?

Apparently they did, because both Maul and Savage started towards him again.

Obi-Wan lifted his sword to catch Maul first. He twisted his wrist, knocked back the spear as hard as he could. Ducked out of the way of Savage's swords. Obi-Wan leapt back against another tree, grew pressingly more aware of the sheer number of blades and stingers around him. If he could somehow get one of his opponents to fall on one of the upturned stingers, that could take care of his problem—

But then again, he didn't know if one stinger was enough. District 5 seemed to have been stung multiple times. No, he had a feeling he might have to do more than that—

Obi-Wan ducked his head as Savage's sword came flying his way. He looked up to find Savage's sword stuck in the tree trunk behind him, and Obi-Wan couldn't help himself: he smiled.

"Stuck?" he asked, and Savage growled, bringing his other sword down. Obi-Wan rolled over to the side. Unfortunately, Savage seemed to have learned his lesson, because his other sword didn't get stuck in the bark. Obi-Wan stood up as Maul came for him again. He pressed his back against the tree trunk as Maul dove forward. The spear tip just came to Obi-Wan's throat before he lifted up his sword again, shoved back. With his other hand, Obi-Wan grabbed at the hilt of the sword stuck in the tree. He tugged, tugged, and only just barely got it free in time to block Savage's blow.

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as both Savage and Maul pressed down on him. He could smell and feel the heat of their breaths as they closed in, see the shots of red in their eyes from this close—

Obi-Wan struck his foot out to Savage's kneecap. Savage buckled with a howl, staggering back. In a flash, Obi-Wan pushed himself away from the tree and, as Savage looked back up, Obi-Wan brought his sword down first.

One thing he discovered: cutting someone's arm with a sword was a much more difficult task than he had expected.

Savage and Maul's shouts intertwined together, and in another flash, Obi-Wan was shoved back against the tree. He heard wings flapping above him, and Obi-Wan looked up to see that the bug had gotten bored. It was drawing closer now, and Obi-Wan and Maul were still struggling here—

Obi-Wan held his breath. He looked at Maul. He was unbalanced now—more unbalanced, Obi-Wan realized with a start. Maul looked genuinely angry that Savage was hurt—something that Obi-Wan hadn't expected.

He looked up again. The bug was hovering closer now.

And Maul didn't seem to notice.

Obi-Wan slid his sword out from under Maul's spear and ducked forward.

He heard two things: first, Maul's spear being lodged in the bark, and second, the stinger coming down.

Maul shouted: a loud, guttural shout that almost made Obi-Wan wince.

Almost.

But then the spear was coming back out from the tree, and Obi-Wan watched Maul bring the spear up to the bug's stinger.

And then Maul was staggering backwards, his hand latched around his neck, his other hand still gripping the spear. Maul and Obi-Wan caught each other's eyes for a moment, and then Maul was turning around, his hand reaching for Savage.

"Up," Maul hissed, and Obi-Wan watched as the two staggered up and back.

And then they were both stumbling back into the trees, and Obi-Wan—

Obi-Wan could follow them. They were both weak, and he had the upper hand, he knew, but—

He couldn't quite move. Not right now. He was too tired, and the night was dark, and—

Obi-Wan dropped his head down.

Oh.

Obi-Wan slowly withdrew his hand from the stinger of the fallen bug. The bug that Savage had cut down, he realized.

Well, that explained why he couldn't move, and why the world seemed to be growing darker, and why—

Obi-Wan let out a breath, pushing himself back against the tree trunk. He couldn't quite—his head swam. Focus. It was only one sting—only one sting, so it couldn't possibly be that bad—

Or maybe it was, because Obi-Wan could have sworn he heard running feet now, and he wondered if perhaps Maul and Savage had come back, but no—

Obi-Wan lifted his head to see two blurry figures come through the trees. He heard buzzing again—buzzing and shouting, and then he made out two sets of blue eyes before sinking under.

A/N: As always, reviews/follows/favorites are greatly appreciated!