Rayla had adapted to Kin culture quite well. Part of her felt like she should have been born into it.

At the age of nine, she abandoned most of what she had learned from her ma and da. No more dusting miniscule household items, bowing to Peacekeepers, or hours spent on homework was needed in her new home. Instead, Rayla learned how to hunt, prepare fresh kill, identify and use the forest's plants, treat injuries and sicknesses, and provide for the Kin that accepted her as one of their own. By the time she was ten, Rayla had effectively convinced Runaan and Tide to let her learn self-defense, and later fighting techniques, alongside her daily work.

There was no time to grieve in a place like this. Perhaps that was what Rayla favored most about becoming Kin. The choice to visit her ma was always present, but Rayla continuously refused, until neither of her uncles bothered to ask about it.

This led Runaan and Tide to step up, taking the place of Rayla's parents and providing her with everything she had been denied.

Rayla's new home was the largest shelter of the Kin: a tent with overlapping, blue-stained canvases made for the Ceannard. Remaining tents were the same shade of purple that marked the Kins' faces. Everyone's homes acted as a barrier around the heart of their camp, where Kin like Tide would exhaust their time forging weapons and other contraptions that enhanced their way of life.

Rayla didn't mind waking at dawn every day to the clinking noises that ramified from Tide as he worked. She soon learned that he acted as the alarm for everyone and that the tink tink tink that roused people from their sleep had earned him the nickname "Tinker" around camp.

Two days out of the week were spent rising with "Tinker" to practice manufacturing weapons as he did, while the afternoons were busied with him showing Rayla how to pinpoint the different uses of plants in the forest. (Although Rayla often hung around him whenever she had free time.) A couple of days were spent with Runaan teaching Rayla how to spar and tend to illnesses and injuries, and two more were spent under Dhara's watchful eye as she taught Rayla how to hunt, track, and trap. One day out of the week was what Rayla called the Kins' Sabbath. That day everyone would remain in camp socializing and constructing plans for the upcoming week.

In time, Rayla learned to disregard her former upbringing. She no longer considered herself a girl from District 12, but as Kin. Five years passed easily. Before she turned 14, it was unanimously decided that she had proven herself enough. That summer she earned her emblems and became true Kin.

"What do you think my emblems will look like?" Rayla had asked, and Runaan felt his attention wane back to all those years ago to when she had asked the same question. He and Tide had smiled at each other, looking to Rayla.

"They will represent you," Runaan had told her.

"Kind and good," came from Tide.

"Fearless and strong," Runaan went on.

"Daring," Rayla breathed.

"They will envision all of this," Runaan had declared with a grin.

"They're tear-streaks," was all Rayla said when she saw her emblems for the first time.

In a way, she wasn't the least bit wrong. Slanted, mirroring triangular shades of purple bled down the undersides of her eyes as if she'd been weeping. She had traced them with the tips of her fingers and a frown.

"I've never even shed a tear in front of our Kin," she continued numbly. "Why will it look like I've cried for the rest of my life?"

"You're smarter than that, Rayla," Runaan had scolded gently. Tide had smiled at her, pointing to one of her emblems and reading his husband's mind aloud.

"Can't you see how fierce they are? Your emblems are fearless and strong, just like you. Sharp as blades and raw as tears."

"Like . . . me?"

"Like you, Rayla," Runaan had told her.

Things continued to go in the Kins' favor for years to follow. But shortly after Rayla's fifteenth birthday, Runaan was no longer able to continue as Ceannard of his Kin.

It was a hunting mission that had gone wrong.

Winter yielded sparse chances to eat bountifully for everyone in District 12. By the time spring came, most people's bones grew visible beneath their skin. That winter was no different.

So Runaan's Kin had grown audacious when tracking a buck in the forest. Even the Ceannard had grown fraught. He'd stumbled, of all things. He'd tripped while leading his Kin, cried out as he fell, and scared away any chances of hitting the buck. But his Kin could not afford to be resentful towards their Ceannard, because Runaan hadn't quit crying out after he hit the ground. Strained bellows filtered into the air at an unnatural pace.

As if he had fallen from a great height, Runaan's left hip dislocated violently when he met the ground. Different levels of agony ran together in his mind while his Kin struggled to pick him up and bring him back to camp. The Kin with the most medical experience managed to set his injury without any major complications.

For the long days that followed, things were looking up. But when he tried walking, Rayla was benumbed to see that he was limping. Many of the Kin reassured her that this was a common factor of a dislocated hip. Yet weeks passed and his limp never recovered, nor did the pain skewering down his leg. Rayla heard Kin call the pain Runaan was feeling "arthritis."

Don't only elderly people get that?

No matter who was at the prevailing age to experience arthritis, Runaan fell ill to the pain that never ceased. Some months passed and it was pronounced that he would never fully heal. Standing guard before his Kins' camp was then all he was able to do. Hunting, sparring, even walking through the woods to gather herbs, all evinced to be too much for Runaan.

Arthritis wasn't the only thing jeopardizing him, though. Ever since his accident, his charisma seemed to be dwindling. The notion to fight, to protect his Kin, no longer shone vibrantly in his eyes. All of his sense of hope appeared to be eradicated the moment he realized he'd forever walk with a considerable limp. Depression hit him with as great a force as Rayla's ma had been struck with.

Dhara took over the roles of Ceannard without adopting the title. Not until Runaan was ready at least, which didn't take long.

Dhara's Ceannard emblem ceremony was solemn. Despite Rayla anticipating the jubilation of watching the ceremony that she wished to have for herself one day, she couldn't conjure up anything more than contentment for her new Ceannard.

That day Runaan was more alive than he had previously been letting on, though. A smile tweaked his lips and he opened his mouth to say more than he had said since he'd begun limping. It stonewalled Rayla. If he was able to gather up bliss and energy for someone to take his title, why couldn't he gather up the ferocity he used to have for his Kin?

Her hindrance was in vain, though. After the ceremony he returned to his sullen state. Things got better in the camp as the middle of summer was nearing, but Runaan's state of mind got worse. His pain was intensifying and his outward emotions were waning.

When the moon hung high in the sky at night, Rayla wondered if this happened to everyone in her family - if it would happen to her in the future. Her mother had lost her husband and then her mind, now her uncle had lost his title and his mind was following. There was no place left for her to go. She couldn't run away again. She had to help Runaan. She had to help her Kin.

District 12 was the valedictory district for a reason. Access to proper housing and food was hard to come by. Access to medicine was even rarer, unheard of in most of District 12's makeshift neighborhoods. Superior districts were favored enough to obtain most things that Rayla's district couldn't get a hold of. Perhaps there was medicine in those districts that would help Runaan. Maybe it would've helped her ma, too, but Rayla tried not to think about that.

While she strived to divert herself from her shambling home life, Rayla directed her attention to work and strategies. She couldn't let Runaan fall down the hole her ma had fallen into. She believed he wouldn't make it another fall.

As her uncles had done for her, Rayla stepped up for them. With the skills and knowledge from the former Ceannard and current Ceannard she had attained, Rayla busied herself and built upon her strength. Leading hunts, training other Kin how to hold their own through sparring and self-defense, and rising with Tide to contrive effective weapons, among other things, was Rayla's new life. As she approached her sixteenth birthday, Dhara and her Kin saw the makings that burned through her.

Ki'somma, a boy about five years older than Rayla, was granted the title of Leas-Cheannard, though.

It nearly knocked Rayla down. Throughout the ceremony she tried to feign happiness and pride for her new Leas-Cheannard, but Tide and Dhara could see through her act. It was little more than an act, too. Rayla knew that she couldn't let this loss take her mind as it had her mother's and uncle's.

The day after the ceremony Dhara called Tide, Rayla, and Ki'somma into her hut. It was built on the grounds to the left of Runaan's hut, so the former Ceannard would be seen as Dhara's right-hand man, even through his lasting hardships. Runaan's canvases were no longer blue, though.

"Understand that I am wary but that I am not blind, Rayla," Dhara had told her.

Thinking she understood but wanting to make sure, Rayla had raised an eyebrow in question.

"I have seen what you are capable of. I have seen that your heart beats solely for our Kin," Dhara went on.

Rayla felt a familiar hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Tide smiling at her. His expression was bittersweet. "Everyone has, Rayla," he whispered.

"Runaan," Dhara said slowly, as if he was in the room with them. For a fraction of a second she trailed off. "He needs you, Rayla. Being Leas-Cheannard is dangerous. If something happened to you, nobody would forgive me. I would not be able to forgive myself." She stepped closer to Rayla, her smile mirroring Tide's. "But know that I have seen you. Know that now, your training for Leas-Cheannard begins."

"What?"

Is that a thing? Leas-Cheannard training?

Dhara beckoned Ki'somma, who was suddenly at Rayla's left. He gazed at her with respect and furor altering the features on his face.

"In the case that something happens to me, Ki'somma will take my place and you will then become Leas-Cheannard. This is only the least I can do, Rayla." Before Rayla could speak, Dhara continued. "Until that day comes, you will be learning the dues of his title alongside him. When the day comes, you will be prepared to take his place.

"In all respects."

Rayla's heart nearly burst on the spot. She looked to her Kin, grinning more than she had in months. Everyone in Dhara's tent broke out into smiles.

So she trained alongside Ki'somma for weeks, learning the roles he was adopting, heeding the responsibilities he took. Everything was split evenly between them. Ki'somma was the sole owner of his title, but Rayla didn't mind. Her newfound knowledge kept her busy. And when she had completed the day's work, the plan to get Runaan back to himself occupied every corner of her mind.

She trained harder than Ki'somma in some instances. Pushing her endurance by running multiple miles at a time and reducing her recovery time between drills. She sparred more than anyone else in camp. Between tasks, she ventured out into the woods and resided there, collecting herbs and sharpening arrowheads until she was summoned back to camp. There was never a day where she ran less than five miles in her spare time. Nobody questioned her actions, though. She was still pulling her weight as much as Ki'somma, even more in some respects, so she wasn't jeopardizing her Kin in any way. Independence was simply something she was learning to favor. There was nothing wrong with that, especially for someone in line to be Ceannard. Rayla knew she had to learn to trust herself again.

Only when she told Dhara that she would need a handful of days to herself in the future, did her Ceannard and Leas-Cheannard start truly questioning her eudaemonia.

"When, Rayla?" Dhara had asked her with a crease in her forehead.

"Whenever it becomes a possibility. Our Kin comes first, I know that. I just need a few days, is all. Five at the most. With Runaan bein' unable to even stand guard and Tinker, er, Tide, havin' to cut back on his work in order to take care of him, I need to be there for them. They need the extra help, Dhara, just until we figure out what to do. It won't take long."

"I'd be happy to give you time to help them," Ki'somma told her gently. "They do need you."

"Yes, they do," Dhara agreed quietly. "If your position is proving to be too much for you-"

"It's not," Rayla interjected. "I still want my role. This is my place and I don't intend to lose it."

"Alright. After your next hunt, you may tend to your Kin."

Rayla had thanked Dhara gratefully before slipping out of her tent and making her way into the trees that surrounded the camp. Footsteps sounded behind her though, and she turned around to see Ki'somma shadowing her.

"I'm sorry about, eh, you know-"

"It's fine," Rayla had said, cutting him off. Ki'somma was used to her defensive demeanor at that point, though. Her terse receptions no longer phased him.

"Will Tide's apprentice officially take over his job, now?"

"I don't know, but that's what I'm tryin' to prevent. We'll see what I can do."

Ki'somma dipped his head and Rayla smiled at him before starting her evening run. He knew better than to follow her any farther.

When the day came for Rayla's "break," she woke to tend to Runaan while Tide prepared a satiating meal for them. Venison, sweet potatoes, pinto beans, and valerian tea covered their table by noon. Runaan did what he did every meal: barely touched his food.

He spared a lot of his words those days. Most of the time he was in his head, fully aware of what he was putting Tide and Rayla through. The realization of this only threatened his state of being further, though. Guilt followed his every thought. Late at night he would talk to Tide and confide in him quietly. Always when Rayla was sleeping, or believed to be asleep.

While Runaan's condition worsened, Tide was forced to abandon most of his days as a makeshift engineer and focus his attention on his husband instead. It didn't help as much as it should have. Rayla noticed this.

After the meal, Rayla announced that she was planning to go out for a while. She told Tide to not wait up for her, that she was going to collect greeneries that grew deep in the forest. Tide believed that she was going to look for plants that would help lessen Runaan's pain, so he smiled and let her go, telling her to take her time.

She planned to do just that, which is what landed her in her current footing: venturing into her old hometown. Her old life. The sight of her ma had honestly scared her. Even if her mother saw her, Rayla didn't think it would register in her mind that it was Rayla, her daughter, before her. Was Runaan going to get that bad?

No.

She shook her head. She couldn't let that happen.

Other districts could help. Beyond 12, Rayla could find what she needed to save Runaan. She could save Tide in turn. This time she would do something to save her family.

District 11 wasn't too different from District 12, aside from harsher Peacekeepers. Almost equally as little supplies and medicine were there. District 10 was the same as 11 in terms of Peacekeepers, which meant better-controlled people. They also had better medicine, but Rayla knew she couldn't chance getting caught by anyone in that district.

Which left District 9. Higher-up districts would undoubtedly discern Rayla's lack of appropriate clothing and etiquette. It was foolish of her to think that she could pretend to fit into any district beyond 9. Besides, District 9 was near perfect. There were rumors of a coalition there. That was one of the few districts that had stronger or equally-as-strong people as their Peacekeepers. A rarity. They would surely have medicine, along with Peacekeepers more concerned about a coalition rather than a stray girl scouring the town.

District 9 was about two day's run if Rayla pushed herself. And already, adrenaline was chasing her every heartbeat, so she knew it would be effortless to do just that. She planned to run at night and rest when the sun was high.

As evening was approaching, Rayla departed from her hometown and worked her way to the edge of her district's border. Without glancing behind herself, she fled into District 11's territory and stayed beneath the canopy of trees that concealed her.

District 12 had a substantial amount of territory, but it was nothing compared to the land that Rayla was now running through. Her Kin had harvested crops that provided enough food to last themselves winter, but District 11 harvested the crops that would provide every district with enough food all year long. It was going to be a long run, but at least she could snatch the season's growths that were edible. She waited until night fell, though, as Peacekeepers watched District 11's people far too closely in order to ensure that they didn't take anything from the fields for themselves.

Rayla rested until the sun dipped below the horizon and the Peacekeepers and people went back to their homes. Then she ran until she reached District 10, finding shelter to sleep in when she saw dawn's light. District 10 raised livestock and autumn was yet to approach, so there were lots of pastures where cattle were left unguarded. Rayla hastened through these pastures in the late afternoon, unable to keep still until darkness washed over the sky. She made it to District 9 that evening.

The many trees that she had taken refuge in were thinning at an alarming rate when she crossed into the new territory. She had no choice but to simply throw on her hood while she prowled farther into the region, abandoning her native cover.

In all honesty, Rayla didn't know where she was going, so she stalked the streets that had been eroded substantially until she found her way into a town larger than the one she'd grown up in. By now it was night, which led her to stick to the shadows and clutch the twin blades that Tide had made for her.

Something caught her eye, though. Stemming off the populated town was a neighborhood of shanties. Lean-tos that were similar to the one she'd grown up in. There were more than a handful of shanties with light flickering inside them. Maybe there wasn't an enforced curfew on that side of the town. Deciding that that was the case, Rayla made her way over there, elated when she spotted an extensive building with scattered lights inside. When she worked her way to the face of it, she was astonished to see that it wasn't a school, but a medical bay of sorts. The word "Infirmary" was painted across the front of the building.

Her heart leaped into her throat when she located the back door, thankful that it didn't alert anyone while she opened it. To her right there was a hallway that had various closed doors, but to her left was a hallway with sporadic, predominantly open doorways. She snuck down that hallway, keeping to the wall and peering into every doorway until she found a room with cupboards, hutches, and shelves overlaid in containers of pills. Silently, Rayla slipped inside and whispered a thanks that a majority of the windows in the building weren't covered, as the moonlight provided her with enough luminescence to see if she squinted her eyes. She slid her satchel to the front of her and lifted the covering, seizing bottles and trying to make out the prescription names.

Slow footsteps made their way to her, though. Clumsy and unmeasured ones. For once, Rayla was thankful that when Ki'somma followed her, he at least tried to be quiet. She looked around the room but found nowhere to hide. Fear didn't eat away at her, though - her temper replaced any trace of that emotion. She was so close. Too close. For all she knew, she could have Runaan's medicine in her hands, but now it could be taken away from her. It would make too much noise to dump the bottle in her satchel, so she placed it back on the shelves above her. Maybe this stranger wouldn't think she was stealing if her hands were empty.

As the footsteps halted, Rayla tightened her jaw.

"What are you doing back here?"

A soft breath blew past her lips while she unclenched her jaw. Rayla closed her eyes and turned around to face the voice. In spite of her waxing ire, she hoisted her hands and lifted her eyelids to see a boy around her age standing in the doorway.

His voice was nothing like his stance. Where a resentful, short tone left him, the way he stood told a different story. Dark brown hair fell past his forehead in a boyish way and his chin was tilted downward as if he didn't have enough strength to keep it upright. Something was shimmering in his gaze. When she looked closer, Rayla saw clashes of red and gray encircling the skin around his eyes. He had been crying. His green eyes were still gleaming with tears.

At this realization, Rayla lessened her stance, ordering herself to take up less space so she stood as less of a threat.

"Someone is sick. He needs aid."

"Well, why don't you just bring him here?" the boy demanded shortly. He sniffled, glaring at Rayla.

Heartbeats passed and when Rayla allowed her hood to fall, it dawned on him.

This stranger was shorter than her, not in the right headspace to defend himself properly, and more than likely didn't have any savvy aside from harvesting grain, as was most of District 9's people. Rayla was the real threat here. The boy heeded this when he saw her emblems.

"You're not from District Nine." He rooted his stance, squaring his shoulders and knitting his eyebrows together. Both of his hands curled to shaky fists at his sides. "Get out."

"No," Rayla growled, and then shook her head, trying to rid her voice of malice, holding her hands up again. Her palms were facing the stranger, urging him to trust her, showing him that she wouldn't be the first one to attack. "No, I can't. My uncle needs help. He's sick and he's not goin' to get better without medicine. Medicine that my district does no' have."

The boy thought this over for a fleeting second. "We have sick people here, too."

"Is that why you're here?" Rayla questioned, hoping to knock him off guard. It worked.

The stranger receded back against the doorway, slouching slightly against the frame and looking at Rayla with a bewildered expression. As if he'd never been sick before. "What? N-no, that's not why I'm here."

Rayla dipped her head, figuring it was best not to press.

"Why is your uncle sick?"

In the boy's tone there was a blend of valid questioning and hostility.

"Hunting accident," Rayla told him, void of any emotion he might be looking for. "He's got a limp now, somethin' that won't get better."

She waited a moment, feeling the force of the stranger wanting to interrupt her. Wanting to tell her that medicine would not fix a limp. But she knew this, and rushed her next words.

"I think he's gettin' sick because of it. He cannot hunt or fight anymore - he can't even stand guard to protect our Kin. He thinks he's feckless, so maybe his mind is allowin' him to fall ill. Maybe he's not fightin' back like he knows he should. But I need to help him, I need to try."

The stranger simply stared at her.

"I wasn't plannin' on taking all of the medicine. Just enough for him."

"Okay," the boy said.

Something about him had dwindled in the time Rayla had spoken. Something told her that she couldn't take the medicine and leave now, like she'd planned. He hadn't promised to help her, but he hadn't outed her, either. There was a reason he was here. He deserved something in return.

"Are you sick?" she asked softly, lowering her hands.

"No." A pause. "My stepdad is."

Rayla hadn't really expected an answer, and she didn't have to look at him to know that he was avoiding her gaze because of it.

"He was injured." The boy paused long enough for their faces to fall in line with each other. Pain was flaring in his eyes. Pain that Rayla found familiar.

"He's not going to get better. Even with medicine."

"I'm sorry," she breathed without thinking. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch his arm. She understood his pain. This fear was always in the back of her mind, whispering beneath her consciousness, threatening Runaan.

"My younger brother doesn't know. I mean, he doesn't know that he's not going to get better. We were both there when my stepdad got hurt. But I don't know how to tell him, how to tell him that he's not going to make it."

Rayla nodded throughout the stranger's stammering. Demurral was evident in every feature of his face, every inflection that arose in his voice.

Rayla had always been the youngest of her Kin. She'd never needed to break news like this to anyone who hadn't suffered it before. Ever since her da had died, people were the ones tiptoeing around her. Not the other way around.

"How was he hurt?"

The stranger found her gaze again. Tears no longer blurred his eyes but his expression was too solemn for a boy his age. "My family's coalition. Brigands attacked our home and Amaya and my . . . dad were the ones leading the retaliation. He was stabbed. Medics were able to stop the bleeding but they think the wound got infected not long after. He's so sick. Everyone can see that his days are numbered now."

Fire seemed to be lapping at Rayla's face. She thought she could relate to this boy but she was wrong. She couldn't have been more wrong.

His stepfather was dying a hero. He was protecting his home, his family. His coalition, the people he devoted his life to fighting for.

Rayla was once again reminded that her da had died a coward. He was nothing compared to this stranger's stepfather.

She backed up, feeling trapped. She couldn't be here anymore.

"My brother is with our aunt. I'm supposed to be there too, but people are saying that this is dad's last night. He won't make it through tomorrow."

Rayla turned around, her back facing the stranger, her hands reaching for a bottle of pills that Runaan needed. Antibiotics. The cure-all. Runaan's last chance to recover. They would strengthen his body, rid him of any invisible illnesses she knew he was fighting against, and Rayla could only hope that his mind would strengthen in sequence. She slipped the bottle into her satchel and bowed her head.

"I wish I could help," she whispered through clenched teeth.

"I wish I could do something," the boy longed.

Rayla nodded, willing herself to turn around, willing herself to look back at the boy whose life she wished she had. "Thank ye."

The boy frowned at her words, eyes going a bit wider than before. "You're leaving . . ?"

"Aye," she said simply. "I have to."

"Your uncle," he started. His expression fell and he crossed the floor. Rayla had to sidestep in order to avoid him walking into her. There was a numbness to his movements, a blankness to his face while he reached into the cupboard and took out another bottle of antibiotics. He utilized an aimed firmness when unscrewing the cap, and then pointed to Rayla's satchel. Wordlessly, she took her own bottle out and fumbled, unable to open it.

"It's supposed to be that way," he explained, "so children can't get into it."

He looked at her and motioned for her to point the cap towards him. Rayla's fingers were wound around the base of the bottle but in a dazed fashion, the boy grabbed the bottle himself, his hand on hers. While she held her breath - narrowing her eyes and refusing to let go in fear of him taking the pills from her - he pressed down on the cap with his other hand and twisted, effectively showing her how to open it. Once the cap was off, his fingers uncurled from hers and he backed away.

Rayla's face was hot again, and she was inwardly cursing these child-proof bottles. This stranger probably thought she was so uncivilized that she didn't even know how to open a bottle. Which wasn't true. She'd just never seen a bottle be so intricate before.

The stranger poured a majority of the pills from his bottle into Rayla's. There was a label on the bottle he had grabbed. Rayla could make out the name "Harrow." She found the boy staring at the bottle in her hands and when she turned it towards her, the name "Harrow" appeared again.

"For your coalition," the boy told her.

Rayla screwed the cap back on gratefully, implementing the same firmness she had seen before. Her actions were slow. She gave him a half-hearted smile. "My Kin."

The boy reddened a bit, perhaps embarrassed. Though nowhere near as embarrassed as Rayla found herself to be. How could she be so happy to take someone's pity? Especially a stranger's?

"Your Kin," he corrected softly.

They stared at each other for suspended seconds. Maybe perceiving how akin they really were. Imagining each other in the opposite places, with the opposite roles. What could have been, had it not been for their families. Had it not been for their districts. How better or worse they would have been without those vital things.

But then Rayla recalled that this boy's stepfather was dying in one of these rooms. Dying as a hero, not a coward.

With that remembrance, she exhaled. Both teenagers were standing close enough so that when Rayla's breath wafted over the boy's face, his eyes fell shut in response.

When he opened them, his stranger was gone.