Oakley Woodson- District Seven (15)

Kazuo and Arielle were going at it like two cats in a sack. I didn't know why Arielle had even allied with me. I certainly wasn't any help. I was a dumb kid from Seven who didn't hardly know which end of a sword should face the other guy.

Arielle was holding Kazuo's hair and smacking his head into a stump. There were wet thumps after each blow, and blood poured from his nose. He never made a sound. He twisted around, scrabbling blindly at her face and hooking his fingers into it. He swatted her sideways and the tumbled on the grass, each stabbing and slashing with their own blades.

I can't even AriTELL who's winning…? guess Kazuo's not a SPAZuo…? Okay, those are just terrible. It was hard to think of puns when I was watching two people kill each other. It was a lot more colorful in real life. The blood was brighter, and the skin was paler. They stuck out against the healthy green foliage around them.

I guess I should help Arielle, I thought, finally getting into the fight. I hefted my hatchet and ran at the pair, who were lying tangled up in each other. Arielle raised her head weakly, staring at me with bleary eyes. Kazuo didn't move.

"Oh. I think I'm too late," I said as I reached them. I bent over and saw the blood caked all down Kazuo's front. At least some of it was Kazuo's. Arielle was similarly painted. Little bubbles flecked her mouth when she breathed.

"Thanks for nothing," she whispered, smiling drily.

"...You're welcome," I said, I think before she died.

For four days after that, I watched the skies. Whoever's face I saw, it wouldn't be good for me. But there was still one I'd far, far rather see than the other. And it wasn't the one I got.

I looked up at Chantal's face in the sky. Yup. Time to PRAY, all right.

I wasn't wrong. The next day, the island started to sink. As trouble came flooding in, you might say swamping me, I saw the far island was also dipping low. I managed to swim for the middle island, where Pray was no doubt awaiting me. That afternoon, I came across the destroyer of worlds, slumped back on a pile of leaves.

Huh. That's lame.

They led me to Pray because they sure couldn't lead Pray to me. Not with that leg, all streaked with red and oozing pus. It was swollen as big around as her head. I could smell the rot wafting off it, and if that didn't wasn't nauseating enough, I threw up in my mouth a little when I saw a maggot crawl out of a crease in the skin.

Pray, man, I'd make a joke, but that's just… I got nothing. That sucks.

Pray's eyes were looking at me, but I wasn't sure she was seeing anything. Her eyes were clouded over and seemed to be pointed past me, maybe still fighting with Chantal. Her mouth hung open, and she was breathing spastically, like an overexerted dog. Her chest hopped up and down with each breath.

"Uh… Pray?" I asked. I just wanted to see if I'd get any answer at all. I got nothing. She either wasn't a threat, as impossible as that seemed, or she was such a good actress that she honestly deserved to kill me.

"Pray, I'm just gonna… get this done with. You pretty much seem like you won't even be upset," I said. I hefted my hatchet and took aim between her eyes. Oh man, if this is a trick, I'm gonna feel so stupid. But actually I'll feel so dead, so at least I won't have to live with it.

It wasn't a trick.