Chapter 49: Godkiller
Day 5
It's a relief not to sleep.
Venatrix knew she'd been sleeping poorly; difficult to expect anything more. She could thank the 'Makers she didn't remember whatever bizarre hells her bloodstained mind conjured up under the cover of darkness, but all the same, it's a relief.
Or it was, until the night's watch left Venatrix alone with her thoughts, her paranoia.
It's not paranoia if you're right.
The longer this went on, the more her so-called allies so clearly wanted her dead; Venatrix felt it in the glares sent her way when they thought she wasn't looking, the muttering that quieted once her eyes flashed over. This is the Games, of course you're right.
Nevertheless, the feeling was mutual.
(Save for the obvious exceptions, of course.)
The last thing that Venatrix would ever let herself be was sorry. Not when the latent anger still simmered in her veins; if Patience wanted to say shit just to piss her off, then she'd better prepare for Venatrix to be pissed off. Venatrix scowled at the empty night air. Bring up Bellara in that tone again, and I swear to the 'Makers— I swear on her pyre…
Percy wouldn't dare hold her back, not like he and Agate had done with Alystra all those months ago.
The sky wasn't empty, though, not really. Pinpricks of stars stretched from the mountaintops to the full moon, the soft sounds and snores of her peers singing a peaceful chorus with a myriad of crickets and rustling trees. Even with a small fire burning, the temperature had dropped enough to require a layer of wool beneath her thick cloak. Venatrix tightened it around herself as another breeze swept in.
The fresh air was something she had missed sorely in the Capitol.
It bit into her still-raw palms as Venatrix extracted them from her cloak. Another round of ointment for another meaningless minor wound. Will there ever be a day where I don't fuck up my hands, she pondered in amusement.
Some level of irony rested beneath it all.
With a sigh, Venatrix glanced over at her fellow sentinel.
Grethel had barely spoken a word to her after the nighttime sky sucked the Five boy's fire-wreathed portrait from the arena, despite Venatrix grilling her on the circumstance of his death. According to Mariposa, there was so much blood it couldn't have been anything other than a mutt. The Three girl hadn't been so confident, but she didn't care to elaborate… which was annoying, to say the least.
Bet she's hoping I walk right into it, Venatrix thought, half-wry half-bitter. Bitch.
An odd memory flickered through her mind: her father warning her that it wouldn't just be tributes she'd be fighting in the arena. Or something like that… This coming from the bastard that barely saw any mutts in his Games. Right.
No, it was her fellow Careers that Venatrix had more to fear from. And that's where the money lies too. Killing mutts didn't get you any step closer to Victory, really; best to avoid them at all costs.
Except when you can't.
(Don't.)
I'll make the hunting parties bigger. Two people can stay on the ship… or maybe we split it even, have one party scouting; no, that's not enough. The outliers are still out there, and god this would be so much easier if we had less people…
Slowly, daytime began to draw Venatrix from her reverie of planning. A dawn of fluffy clouds, bright skies; their fire had long-since died, and Venatrix helped herself to a quick meal of rations and leftovers from the small crate she'd spent the night sitting on.
Grethel watched her with a blank expression, yet still somehow judgemental.
"What," Venatrix said sharply, and she blinked.
"Nothing."
The Three girl's eyes were still wide as saucers beneath her light fringe of bangs. A standard expression for her, sans fading face paint, but only now did it begin to feel unnerving. Fuckin' bug-eyed bitch.
Letting the paranoia show is unbecoming, she chided herself. Weak. Wordlessly, Venatrix tossed her ally a chunk of bread.
While Grethel ate, she picked her way around the camp, rousing her fellows. Percy emerged groggily from his tent; Mariposa as if she hadn't even been sleeping, though she'd made no commotion during the night to suggest otherwise. Venatrix barely got her nose through the adjacent tent flap before Patience snapped at her to fuck off, and whatever mindless chatter the Fours had taken to yesterday resumed in sharp whispers as if on cue.
Venatrix bit back a growl of annoyance, seating herself between Percy and Mariposa as they put together their own measly breakfast. The One girl's attention remained focused on her cat; she only looked up to shoot her approaching district partner a stink eye. "So, what's the move for today, O wise leader?" Viper sneered, though the yawn that finished his question took the sting out of his words.
"Split up again," Venatrix decided. "But I want us on this bank today."
"There is nothing on this bank."
"You wanna get ripped up by whatever killed the Five kid?"
Shannon's even voice cut into their brewing discussion from where he'd been packing up the tent he'd shared with Viper. "That's why we have these." He tapped at the short sword on his belt, shooting Venatrix a look. "Right?"
Cheeky bastard. Viper barked a laugh, though Shannon's sheepish smile withered under her glare. Cheeky, but ultimately harmless.
"I'd rather take my chances over here," Mariposa piped up.
Patience rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd say that," she muttered under her breath.
"You didn't see—"
"Two groups," Venatrix snapped. "Viper, you take the Threes up the river. Patience, you guard the camp here, and the rest of you, double back with me." At the immediate protests from the group— namely Viper and Patience— Venatrix raised her hands. "I'm not fucking arguing with you all; we can either get shit done, or you can mope about on your own, hm? Patience, I want you here since you know the ship best." That's the only thing you're good for. "Viper, if you start to get bored scouting, then do something useful for once! Bring a bow and go hunting, or draw a fucking map, I don't care."
"I suppose we didn't do a good enough job of scouting yesterday?" Viper retorted.
"Four people can cover a lot more ground than two," Venatrix reminded him. "The outliers will be moving too." We'll have to double back on the other bank, she realized, depending on whether they came across the outliers or the opposite end of the arena first. Or let the 'Makers guide us.
Despite the loudness of the two protestors, the rest of the pack didn't make a fuss about her orders. Grethel and Idris, she assumed, had seen what Mariposa had seen; whatever their thoughts on Venatrix's leadership, they didn't seem too eager to cross the water again. Venatrix made sure to stuff her pack with an excess of what she'd need for the journey in case she came back to a missing ship and an empty camp, though that was partially the reason she'd included Idris in her group in the first place.
For better or worse, the others followed her subtle lead. Can't be too unprepared, she thought as she watched Viper snag a bow and quiver for himself with a stuffy pout. "Swear to god if he wastes all those arrows," Percy huffed under his breath.
"Morwenna'll get you more," Venatrix said with a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
He shook his head. "Can't bet on it. Never got that one back from the Thirteen girl either."
"Rude of her."
Percy bit his lip, sending a sharp, chiding elbow into her arm, and the two of them headed over to where Mariposa stood at the edge of the camp, tightening the straps of her pack around her shoulders. Charcoal sat patiently at her feet; he watched with round, unflinching amber eyes as they neared. "Is he coming?" Venatrix asked, and Mariposa only shrugged.
"He'll go where he wants, I guess."
"Alright." Her head turned in search of their remaining member. At the center of the camp,
Idris sat still while his district partner checked over the yellowed bruising at his bare shoulder, only half-listening to her words as he fiddled with his trident. Evidently, bandages and ointment could only do so much against the brunt force of a warhammer. Venatrix whistled sharply. "Hey, Rockwell!"
"Sorry!" Shrugging his partner off, Idris jogged over, pack bouncing on his back. "Never thought I'd see her mother-henning over me," he said with a wide grin that contrasted starkly with Patience's acerbic glare.
Venatrix threw a somewhat-sarcastic salute over her shoulder, and they took off. Feet crunched over sand and pebbles and then leaves and grass as they cut a brisk pace through the tree line. To her amusement, Charcoal trotted alongside them. Every now and then, he paused to investigate a curious twig or rock, then without warning, bounded ahead out of sight. Not a few meters ahead, they came across the cat waiting atop a felled tree trunk, and the pattern began anew. Keeping the distant water at their left, Venatrix led the hunting party at a diagonal deeper into the woods. If any tributes had found refuge on this bank, she doubted they'd want to remain out in the open near undrinkable water.
Naturally, the choice led the four of them upwards, turning their steady walk into a hike. The change of pace barely registered in her breathing, accustomed to such terrain as she was. Even Idris apparently felt enough at ease to start whistling a jaunty tune.
"Can you cut it out?" Percy said almost immediately.
Idris's whistle turned into a drawn-out huff.
"We're supposed to be hunting," Percy reminded him, a hint of condescension leaking into his tone in his annoyance. "Kind of hard to catch people by surprise if you're out here singing sea shanties."
"What people?"
"Idris," Venatrix warned.
He raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, whatever. Shutting up."
Satisfied, Venatrix turned her attention back to the path ahead. The Four boy mumbled something under his breath that she didn't catch, but Mariposa was quick on the uptake. "What was Patience right about?"
His eyes widened beneath the angled lines of blue paint, but Venatrix didn't care to press. "Quiet," she snapped. "Do you hear that?"
The distant rushing at the edge of her ears became more prominent in her allies' silence. It filtered through the sun-dappled leaves, a pleasant babbling that sang like springtime.
Venatrix smiled. "Running water. Come on."
Following the sound, they broke through a clearing in the trees. A small brook, no more than two meters across, cut a winding path through the dirt and leaf mulch, leaving a trail of vivid greenery in its wake. Charcoal, who'd bounded ahead a few minutes earlier, crouched at the riverbank, steadily lapping the clear water. He glanced up as Venatrix squatted down next to him to refill her nearly-empty leather canteen. "Should we purify that first?" Percy asked cautiously.
Venatrix shrugged. There had been no tablets or iodine drops mixed in with the Cornucopia supplies, which they hadn't bothered to worry about once they'd found the water barrels. Either the freshwater was drinkable, or…
Idris glanced at the cat. "We could just wait to see if our little friend dies. Or gets sick," he added at Mariposa's glare.
Despite her ire, Venatrix was inclined to agree. What other option did they have? Whether in agreement or merely acquiescence, both Percy and Mariposa pulled out their own canteens to refill them. "Oh, look at this." From where he knelt at the riverbank, Percy plucked a sprig of shiny green leaves from a nearby shrub.
Venatrix frowned. "What is that?"
"Mint, I think." Ripping up a leaf, Percy sniffed it. "Yeah, definitely mint." As Venatrix stode over to inspect the plant, he shoved a couple of leaves into his mouth, chewing; he passed her another sprig at her insistence. She ran a finger over the textured leaf, giving it a sniff of her own. Definitely mint. While she trusted Percy's judgment when it came to things like this— their early days at the Academy had ground basic plant identification into their heads— it didn't hurt to double check. "Honestly," Percy said once his mouth wasn't full of leaves, "I'd kill for some toothpaste right now, but I guess this is good enough."
Five days without brushing her teeth had indeed left a nasty aftertaste on the back of Venatrix's tongue. That was all the prompting she needed to follow Percy's lead.
The sharp taste of spearmint flooded her mouth as her teeth cut into the leaf. Still chewing, Venatrix grabbed a few handfuls of the plant and shoved them into her bag, then knelt down next to Percy to rinse her mouth with fresh water, and then her face. Like the mint, the water was refreshingly frigid. In her peripheral, Mariposa harvested clusters of mint for herself; Venatrix heard her quiet exclamation of surprise and a rustle of leaves as she wiped her face dry, sighing in annoyance when red paint came away on her sleeve. "Dammit."
She turned to Mariposa, who glared at her cat. "He attacked my boots," she pouted. Sure enough, Charcoal looked ready to pounce again, his tail swishing playfully. Water seems to be just fine, Venatrix thought with amusement. Though, if even the cat was getting bored, Venatrix could only imagine how the Capitol audience must feel.
Quickly scrubbing the rest of the paint from her face, she stood with a stiff exhale. With Percy's help, she touched up the paint with the tin she'd stuffed in her bag before turning to the creek.
It flowed downhill, most likely a tributary to the wide river. "Let's follow this up," she decided. It would be nice to get to higher ground, a much-needed change of perspective; they'd spent enough time in the valley, as far as she was concerned. She waited for Idris to finish shoving the last few handfuls of mint leaves into his pack before they took off, uphill and upriver. Like before, Charcoal padded after them, darting ahead at his discretion before circling back to receive head-scratches from Mariposa.
Venatrix tasted it in the air as they climbed, the crisp scent of living things. The ground beneath their feet grew rockier, steep enough for droplets of sweat to form at the back of her neck and slither down her spine. She welcomed the change. Despite the shift in altitude, her feet gravitated naturally to secure footholds along their path, and she and Percy easily took the lead.
Behind the cat, at least.
As the trees thinned around them — and the river along with it — the black-and-white creature picked a steady path uphill, remaining ahead of the Careers. When they paused for a quick meal and water break, it let loose an irritated meow.
Four heads turned towards the animal. The tip of its tail flicked in a manner that Venatrix could only describe as impatience.
Mariposa chuckled. "What is it, little guy?"
Charcoal meowed again, and she offered it a strip of jerky. As soon as it gobbled down the meat, it bolted off, before pausing atop a rounded boulder. Another whine, this one more insistent.
Venatrix frowned at the cat. Its path angled away from the brook — now a thin trickle, no more than a half-meter across — though still distinctly upwards. More rocks and boulders crowded the ground, sprigs of green things poking through the cracks. They'd left the towering trees behind; if Venatrix recalled their path correctly, they'd reach the summit soon. Upon its boulder, the cat sat expectantly, tail curled around its paws, keen eyes waiting.
With a jerk of her chin, Venatrix started after it. Immediately, Charcoal leapt off the rock and bounded ahead, and Venatrix exchanged a look with her peers. Alright, I think we get the hint.
In wordless agreement, they picked their way after the animal. This isn't convincing me it's not a mutt, Venatrix thought as it bounded up and out of sight. Despite the steepness, Venatrix crept her way over the slabs of rock without needing to resort to sinking onto all fours; once glance behind her told her Idris wasn't so lucky. She crested the ridge just before Percy, straightening as she felt flat ground beneath her feet and an open breeze on her cheeks.
A few meters ahead, Charcoal sat calmly amidst the tangled roots of a scraggly, dead tree.
"I think that's the one I saw yesterday," Percy said, an odd hush to his tone. "What's… wrong with it?"
Venatrix didn't step closer. Upon the scrap of land, its bare branches wound a gnarled net towards the sky, though odd, dark green clumps sat heavily within their masses. "Those aren't tracker jacker nests, are they?"
"No, it looks like a plant."
A scrabbling sound came from behind, and Venatrix turned around to find the others catching up. Bending down, she extended a hand. Mariposa's fingers closed around hers, and she let Venatrix pull her over the ridge while Idris clambered over on his own. Instinctively, Venatrix gave the girl's hand a squeeze before she let go, and Mariposa smiled, quick and soft.
Behind her ally, the river stretched across the valley down below, its twists and turns almost inconsequential at their height. Back the way they came, the boat was only just visible where they'd moored it at the shoreline, too far away for Venatrix to see the way it bobbed in the current, pulling at its tether. Splayed across the sail, the golden eagle rippled in the afternoon light. To think such a tiny vessel held so much significance.
Her gaze traveled upwards, farther out— even from this vantage point, their entry gate into the arena was invisible.
Oftentimes, the Games circled back to the golden horn for feasts or finales. The audience loved the contrast— the link between end and beginning so clearly displayed as the cost for survival. Those that returned were never the same.
But something told Venatrix there would be no going back.
Resolute, she abandoned the view for the girl at her shoulder. "What'd he find?" Mariposa asked, nodding to Percy, the tree. He'd already closed half the distance, his stride cautious.
With a shrug, Venatrix followed, a careful hand hovering at the hilt of her sword. Charcoal trotted past her on his way back to his caretaker; she left Mariposa's coos of greeting behind in pursuit of her partner.
Up close, Venatrix had never seen a tree look so brittle.
Withered bark and dead branches twisted above her head, so dry Venatrix couldn't imagine it ever growing in the first place. Any color the tree may have once had seemed to have been sucked into the peculiar green clumps. Even the roots hardly seemed capable of anchoring the behemoth; they dipped beneath her weight as she trod across them, hollow and empty. Weak. "What the hell," Venatrix muttered.
Percy's blond head peered out from behind the trunk, two or three times as wide as his torso. "It's hollow," he said, rapping against the wood. Dust sprayed from where his knuckles connected with bark, and he grimaced; sure enough, the knock confirmed it. "There's a hole on this side, I think there's something in it…"
Venatrix let her bare hand trailed along the dry wood as she circled the tree after her friend. While he inspected the hole— a ragged wound in the bark— her gaze drifted upwards to the hanging evergreen clumps, their small elongated leaves and pearly berries. It took her a minute to place it. "Mistletoe," she murmured. Her hand flinched away from the trunk. Poisonous if ingested, and… Mariposa had appeared at her shoulder; one glance at the other girl said she too recognized the plant, and its particular significance. Venatrix stepped out from beneath it, ignoring the heat in her cheeks, the One girl's slight grin. "What's it doing here?" Venatrix said quickly.
"I don't know, but…" Percy retracted his hand from the trunk, a long, thin object within his grasp. "Get a look at this."
Fletched with striped feathers and carved from what appeared to be dark wood, the arrow carried an ominous presence that those in Percy's quiver didn't. The steel-tipped arrowhead glinted dangerously in the sun's glare, though it was the glass capsule set within that caught Venatrix's attention. Inside, a cloudy liquid swirled around the tiny vial. Odd rivulets ran through the metal point, designed to channel the poison — What else could it be? — straight into the target's veins.
Venatrix had to smack Percy's hand away from touching the sharpened edges. "Are you stupid?" she hissed.
"Sorry, it's just… gorgeous."
Venatrix snorted, utterly unsurprised when Percy strung the arrow in his bow, a gleeful look on his face. "Be careful with that."
"Yeah, yeah." Cautious not to loose it, he pulled back on the bowstring, appraising the weapon like a new toy. "You think Morwenna sent it? I mean, it's gotta be for me, right?"
Their antics drew the attention of the Four boy. "Oh, that's funky," Idris said, shuffling over to them from where he'd been kicking rocks over the ridge. "By the way Mariposa, your cat's running away."
"Charcoal—!"
Sure enough, the cat trotted jauntily across the open grass towards the opposite ridge, and Venatrix recoiled at the sight. Her hand clamped around the One girl's wrist before she could take off after the animal, and Mariposa turned to snap at her.
The protest died quickly on her lips.
How long it had been watching, Venatrix couldn't tell. The four Careers stood frozen as ice as the cat reached the creature standing opposite them, winding around the humanoid's legs in greeting and looking ridiculously small in comparison.
The mutt— no way in hell that's a tribute— didn't react. It stood as thick and solid as the surrounding mountains, its bipedal silhouette stretching towards the sky, but there was something off about it; something wrong. Not just the obvious— forked antlers that sprang from its head, a plate of bone that existed in place of facial features, pelts of fur covering every inch of its body— but the way the creature seemed to carry itself, as if it bore the burden of being something more. A heavy foot shuffled towards them, mindless of the cat still nudged up against its huge boots.
Slowly— unsurely, even— the mutt reached for the handle behind its back. In comparison, the swiftness in which it drew its comically large double-bladed axe nearly made Venatrix flinch.
Instead, she unsheathed her sword before it could take another step. In her peripheral, her peers did the same.
The shrill sound seemed to incite the mutt— it charged, impossibly quick and upon them in mere seconds. With a guttural bellow, it raised the axe, and the Careers scattered. Venatrix nearly tripped over a black-and-white blur darting towards the safety of the tree roots; she raised her sword in defense just as the axe collided with the ground where she and Mariposa had been a heartbeat before.
The mountain seemed to shiver with the blow; it reverberated through Venatrix's knees, inciting the pounding heart in her chest. The mutt ripped the axe free, though the deep, earthen wound remained.
Before it could attack, two arrows sailed towards its now-open chest, and the creature let loose another inhuman howl, more infuriated than pained. Too easily, it brushed them from its pelt. Another leapt from Percy's bow, sinking deep into its paw, and it shrieked again, an undulating noise that set Venatrix's teeth on edge.
She only caught a glimpse of her friend's wide eyes as the mutt barreled towards him. Percy bolted from the cover of the tree, flinging arrows as he went. The creature hefted its axe again.
Shoving down the jitters in her muscles, Venatrix lunged towards the mutt's leg with a battle cry of her own.
Her sword barely made a dent in its thick fur — what the hell is this thing made of? — but she'd caught its attention. The axe whistled through the air, down towards her head— Venatrix threw herself sideways, earning a mouthful of dirt for her troubles. Loose dust and gravel pricked at her cheeks as the blow just missed her; she scrambled to her feet in time to see more arrows fly towards the creature's torso, katana blades and trident prongs alike slashing and jabbing at its lower half.
All to no avail; nothing seemed to penetrate the mutt's grey-furred hide.
A sharp kick and a sweep of the axe's handle sent both Mariposa and Idris skidding across the scraggly grass. The Four boy's expression twisted in pain; he clutched his previously injured shoulder, the trident flung far from his grasp. With the grace of her namesake, Mariposa leapt quickly to her feet, clanging her swords together to draw the mutt's attention away from their fallen comrade. "Over here, ugly!"
The mutt's head whipped towards the sound, and Venatrix caught her eye. Must be hard for that thing to see. The slits in its bone-white mask— helmet? Face?— hardly offered a wide range of vision, but Venatrix had no time to ponder that as it charged towards the One girl with a gravelly snarl. In a split second, Venatrix charged towards it, driving her sword at the mutt's knee. No blood— so unsatisfying— but it was enough for the creature to stumble. It pivoted towards her, straightening, and never before had Venatrix been so painfully aware of her own height disadvantage. Fucker's easily got more than a head on me, she thought with a scowl, regripping her weapon.
Shadow flashed; the axe rose, blocking out the sun for a heartbeat before it fell.
Venatrix lifted her sword, to meet it. The opposing blade nearly buckled her arms, its weight straining to drive her knees into the dirt. This thing's definitely longer than me, 'Makers. With a groan of effort, she angled her sword, and the axe slid down her blade into the dirt. The mutt reacted quickly, yanking it back for another strike when something dragged it backwards.
A flash of blonde— Mariposa's leap put her square on the giant's back; her head poked up from behind its shoulder, and with her free hand, she swung her blade towards its neck. Despite the creature's rasping growl, the sword didn't appear to draw blood. It wasn't injured— only distracted.
Venatrix saw the opportunity. Her eyes roved over the mutt's hide in search of a weakness, a chink in the armor, but there was nothing.
No time. The mutt bucked in an attempt to throw the One girl from its back; it didn't notice her weapon arcing a blinding circle towards its open chest— a killing blow.
Instead, something halted her sword; solid, unyielding. The strike echoed deep into the marrow of her bones, drawing a pained grunt from between her teeth. What the fuck? The sword sagged in her arms, about as steady as wet noodles in the aftermath of the reverb. Fuck, maybe it is armor… There was no reason they shouldn't be able to land a strike, unless… Unless we weren't meant to.
New fear bloomed in Venatrix's gut. It's been sent to kill us. She stepped back out of range, adjusting her grip on her sword. Maybe it'll be satisfied with one.
A growl of rage tore from the monster's throat; with one paw— hand?— it ripped Mariposa's katana from her grasp, one last attempt to dislodge her from its back. But she held on, white-knuckled hands locked around the creature's antlers. In desperation, its head whipped viciously, side-to-side; the torque was enough to fling the One girl head-over-heels from her perch.
As she fell, Mariposa's body twisted; her ironclad grip on the mutt's horns sent the mask of bone flying from its face. She hit the ground, hard.
"Mari!" Venatrix was at her side in an instant, knees skidding in the gravel. Roughly, she took the girl by the shoulders, shaking her until her eyelids fluttered weakly. "Oh, thank the 'Makers," she whispered. Pricks of blood sprouted from where she'd collided with jagged pebbles, and Venatrix gingerly brushed the dirt from her face.
Mariposa winced; her lips twitched in an incoherent murmur, drowned out by the sound of heavy footsteps. Venatrix's stomach plummeted as her gaze turned upwards.
Something hollow filled the eyes that stared back.
Sharp light flashed in the blade of an axe, but the whistle of an arrow came first. Where two eyes once sat, only one widened in shock. Striped fletching stuck out from the other, and the giant slowly tipped backwards, falling faster until it hit the ground hard enough to rattle the pebbles around them.
Venatrix's head whipped around; behind her, Percy stood, still poised to shoot. At her glance, he rushed over, and the two of them helped a shaky Mariposa to her feet.
She couldn't help the way her eyes returned to the mutt, still twitching in its death throes.
Percy was the first to move towards it; he knelt by the creature's face, making to retrieve the gifted arrow, but immediately halted. "Trix…" His voice was steady in the way that she recognized when his thoughts weren't. "Come here."
Unsure, Venatrix joined him at the mutt's side, Mariposa close behind. Despite the antlers protruding from its head and the tufts of fur-like hair sticking out from its chin, the expression on its — his? — face was sickeningly familiar. Singular honey-brown eye blown wide with fear, streams of tears; open mouth panting shallow, shallow breaths; lips twisted in pain. He knows he's dying. It couldn't be more clear. Dark red bloomed from where an eye used to be, spilling down his weathered cheeks; the smell of it polluted the fresh air, a stark iron tang in the back of her throat. All Venatrix wanted to do was gag, but I can't, I can't. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only choked whimpers filled the air.
Between his teeth, Venatrix saw no tongue.
Percy's face was ashen. "What did they do to you?"
Immediately, Venatrix clamped a steadying hand on his shoulder, even as her own stomach swirled with nausea. The mutt's eye — no, that's no mutt — flicked towards his killer. With a movement that seemed to take the strength of a hundred men, the dying creature raised a palm, dragging the fingers of his right hand down its length in a single, forceful motion, before pointing to himself.
Percy glanced helplessly at Venatrix. "I— what does that mean, I don't—"
"Perce," she said hoarsely. He only shook his head, though he flinched back when a pink nose poked its way between his arms; unceremoniously, the cat shoved its head into the mutt's fuzzy hand. The man's lips twitched in the smallest smile before his expression went slack.
Venatrix didn't know why she expected a cannon.
The cat nudged him again with its head, seemingly frustrated when the dead man didn't return the gesture. A quiet whimper bled from Percy's lips, and Venatrix squeezed his shoulder again, this time more firmly. Not here. She recognized the blatant emotion splayed across his face— they were supposed to leave it behind.
We can deal with this back at camp, when we're safe. Back at home, after I win…
It took one more squeeze until Percy finally stood, not bothering to retrieve his arrow from the not-mutt's eye. "Get your others," Venatrix urged him quietly, nodding to the more innocent arrows scattered across the hill. The small task was enough for him to bury the horror for the moment, just a moment. Venatrix turned to Mariposa as he went off; her eyes still lingered on the cat, the corpse. "Hey." Her expression had gone just as white, highlighting the red that marred her elegant features. Venatrix raised a hand to her bloodied cheek. "Are you hurt?"
Mariposa shook her head, though her half-shrug brought a grimace to her lips. Gently, Venatrix guided her away from the body, past Idris, who stared wide-eyed at the creature they'd killed. "What do you think they promised him?" Mariposa murmured once they reached the ridge, out of earshot of the Four boy.
Venatrix shot her a furtive glance. "Nothing they intended to keep." She lifted her chin to speak louder. "Come on. We're going back."
A cold, biting wind rippled through the sleeves of her tunic as she looked out over the valley. The brewing nausea hadn't left, the tainted scent of blood swept over by the new chill only adding to the fact. She waited until Percy rejoined them, arrows stashed within his quiver, and without another word, the four of them set off down the mountain. Mariposa cast a few glances backwards as they went, though the eventual reappearance of her cat seemed to set her nerves to something like ease. The leaves beneath their feet felt almost crisper in the coolness, the only sound filling the air.
At her side, Percy's eyes remained locked forward beneath the sharp blue paint as they trekked on, breath huffing cool trails of mist. Even her concerned side-eyes had no effect.
By the time they made it back to camp, the sky had started to dim. Patience stood immediately to greet them, but even Idris didn't dare break the somber silence, dragging her aside to convey the details of their journey in fervent whispers.
In silence, they waited. The heavy air grew colder as evening crept in.
The violent embers of sunset had started to stretch their arms across the sky when the others finally returned; before they even set down their bags, Venatrix ordered them to the ship. Something about the look on her face— on all four of their faces— silenced any protests that Viper and his ilk may have voiced. Venatrix ignored their questions until they finally abandoned the bank, cutting a path across the river to the safety of the other side.
Dinner was another meager, silent affair, and by the time Venatrix stood to speak, the sky was shrouded in darkness.
Something halted her; Venatrix couldn't quite tell what it was. A flicker of shadow… A whisper on the wind… No. Her eyes flicked towards the open sky, squinting, and the more she watched, the more certain she became.
The once-full moon was gone. And it had taken the stars with it.
true vengeance 151 . weebly . com
A/N: "Release me." If anyone's curious, what the mutt (yes, he is an Avox) was signing. It's similar to the sign for "forgive me/excuse me", and could probably also be interpreted as to pardon, or release from obligation... I don't know fluent sign language, but. This felt fitting ;-; ...And yes, this is also the arena spoiler that Venera gave Oberon way back in Chapter 31 c: I've been holding onto this one for a while... This also marks the next phase of the arena, which I'm super excited about !
And of course... Happy birthday to poor Bellara ;-; Forever 12, yet again :heart: I still aim to update for our last two birthdays down the road, so hopefully I will see y'all again on the 27th ! (...and if not, on the 30th bc #FuckOberon jhfdbvhb) Also shoutout to Ali for catching up to all of this recently ;-; ilysm :blobheart:
- Nell
