Owain Fairburn, 18, District 7
Mount Mshai - Island A/B - 1700
Everything and nothing hurts at the same time. Owain's been a medic for most of his life, yet he's never experienced anything like this before. He didn't think it possible. When he treated his clients, and their pain didn't respond in the way he thought it should, he never understood why.
Now he understands. He understands more than ever before. The constant throbbing deep within the muscles doesn't go away. The calmness in the tender skin until it flares up and causes him to shake. The indications of the morphling wear off when all the signals turn up to a thousand.
He's never felt this vulnerable, not since he was eleven and sick and watching those around him drop dead. He would have dropped dead, had it not been for the strange man.
(Owain Fairburn was destined to be the savior of the sick. Instead, he's become the sickest of them all.)
The bleeding has stopped, or so he thinks. Each new bandage has soaked up less red than before, and this latest application has very little color. Exa and Aizen crafted him some sort of walking stick while he was still unconscious. It sits next to him as a constant reminder of what happened.
It still doesn't seem real to Owain. A lost limb. A procedure he himself has done time and time again. Always his least favorite one, too. Cutting something off…it always felt like cutting away the problem instead of addressing it. The coward's way out.
(He knows Exa isn't a coward. She's proven to be anything but.
So what does that make him?)
The Twelves haven't come back from their plan. Exa showed them the path, and then she returned immediately. She sits across from Owain, staring at the space that used to hold his leg.
He finds himself staring, too. How strange it feels, how light it is every time he lifts it up. He's been too afraid to stand, even with the crutch. He's too afraid to fail.
(Hasn't he failed enough?)
"They should be back by now," Exa says, snapping out of his spiral of self-pity. Owain looks around at their meager supplies, including the supplies the Twelves left behind. How long has it been? Owain can't tell. He knows the path isn't that long, though.
"The cannons didn't belong to them," Owain reminds her again. He knows that's where her mind is going. Two cannons within a short time span of one another, how could either of them not assume it belonged to their allies?
Owain has seen how all three of them have stepped up since joining forces. He's seen them make decisions that most people never have to even think about. He knows they're all the reason he's still alive.
So he knows, more than anything, they're keeping themselves alive out there.
"It just means their plan is working. Trust me," he adds on to break the silence.
"Can we go find them?" she asks. He's about to respond with another reassurance, another excuse to stay put, but she beats him to it. "I should have gone with them. I should have shown them the way back. Instead, I left as soon as they started setting their trap. I came back and now they're not back. It's my fault."
"Hey. Nothing is your fault," he says, watching her eyes find what's left of his leg.
"That is," she whispers to herself to the point Owain barely understands her.
"That saved my life," he says with an air of confidence he didn't know he still had in him. It's the same confidence he had when addressing any of his patients. He found it calmed them before whatever treatment he was about to give to them. The worse the treatment, the more confidence he gave them. It was the least he could do.
And now? Now he knows he's running on borrowed time.
"Exa," he says. She looks at him inquisitively as he speaks. "I've seen a lot of injuries. I've treated a lot of conditions. There's a first for it all and, it doesn't make it easy. I wish there was something I could say or a trick I could teach you that would. The truth of it is, medicine is a hard field. Painful sometimes." He can see the tears start to form in her eyes. He can see his words resonating with her.
"But each time you do something, you're doing good. You kept me alive when no one else would, or could. You learned those skills in less than three days and used them to keep me alive when no one would have faulted you for my death. Not even me," his voice softens and her tears keep coming.
(Only fourteen and she's dealt with too much in her lifetime.)
"You want to bring medicine back home, don't you?" He tries to recall all she told him in the Capitol. He'll admit, he wasn't as focused on her as he could have been. He regrets that now.
(In his final days, he hopes to remedy that.)
"I want you to take what I've taught you home. I want you to do what I can't. I want you to save the lives I can't." After the words leave his mouth, he finds himself speechless for the first time in a long time.
It's harder to accept his fate when he says it out loud. He knows that from his years of medicine. The sick, their family, and even him would talk around the inevitable truth. Like speaking it would bring it upon them faster.
He's on limited time and he can't be buried with his words. They're all he has left.
Things are still around them both. He thinks - he hopes his words land with Exa. He hopes, in his last days, he makes a difference.
He hopes his knowledge doesn't go to waste. If that's all he can guarantee, that's good enough for him.
He loses any last time to dwell on it though, as the ground beneath him starts shaking. He doesn't hesitate. He ignores the pain. In a few moments, he's up on his leg, leaning against the wall for support with one hand, reaching for Exa with another.
"We have to go," he says as she pulls herself up. Fear seems to grow in her eyes and she passes him his crutch. Then, she grabs his other arm and pulls him.
Walking is hard, if it can even be called walking. He feels more like he's flailing. Rocks falling from the ceiling don't help, nor does the debris scattered along the floor.
He thought the pain was bad when he was stationary. Moving, moving is hell and he's afraid of passing out.
He can't stop though. He can hear the rockfall catching up to him. If he stops he'll be pulled under, never to breathe fresh air again. He'll never see the trees sway in the wind, or watch the sun rise and set. He's been in this damned cave for so long he fears he's already forgotten what those look like.
He doesn't dare close his eyes to try and remember. Not now, when his ally's life is on the line.
(He's too slow and she's too fast but she's staying by his side when she should be getting out of here.)
(Owain Fairburn was born to help lives, not take them.)
The pain is too great.
He will not take another life.
With the last of his energy, he shoves her forward, and when her grip is lose around his wrist, he pulls back.
"Run!" His voice carries over the falling rock.
The last thing he sees is the fear on her face as rocks collapse in between them.
Owain doesn't feel fear or pain as the light recedes around him. He doesn't feel regret or anger.
He dies knowing in his last moments he's someone Sandoval would be proud of.
Exa Behrens, 14, District 6
Mount Mshai - Island A/B - 1750
The cannon fires and Exa screams.
She can't stop while the rocks are still falling. Guilt eats inside her but she has no choice except to run.
(People keep dying around her and she wants it to stop.)
She doesn't know where she's going. Paths that used to exist are now blocked off by debris. At some point she's certain she'll reach a dead end with nothing to do but sit while the rocks close her in.
She doesn't know where Aizen and Mori are. She heard a few cannons earlier, she assumes they belong to victims of their trap, but maybe the cannons belong to them instead?
Maybe they're within these walls as well. Maybe she led them all into a death trap.
She reaches a larger opening and keeps her hands over her head as small rocks fall from above. The cavern has two paths she can follow and even though she's likely been here before, she can't remember which path would take her closer to the exit. With the rocks continuing to fall, she has to make a choice.
She choses the path straight ahead, running as fast as she can manage. The path twists and turns and she feels like she can see light, she can see the end of the path. She enters a much larger cavern, and the exit is right there.
Until the earth throws her to the ground and the path is blocked by rocks.
She crawls backwards, throwing herself into the only clear path as rocks continue to pile up. She's screaming and crying and mourning the loss of her friend but no one could hear it over the rock fall.
Until it stops.
The silence is so jarring Exa thinks she's dead. She leans against a wall with her legs pulled in towards her chest and she hears her breaths, she feels her chest rising and contracting but she still thinks she's dead.
Is this what Owain felt? Anton?
It takes many minutes to pass before Exa feels comfortable moving, let alone standing up. She can barely see in front of her or behind her.
The rocks may have not outright killed her, but that doesn't stop them from trying.
Exa walks down the unexplored path as she waits for the darkness to subside, but it never does. Each step she takes she feels more and more unsteady on her own feet. She holds her hands out in front of her to try and keep herself steady and keep herself from running into walls.
She still stumbles. A lot.
She's glad she does though because her hands come in contact with the stone wall before her face does and saves her from a much worse fall.
Her eyes have somewhat adjusted to the darkness but it takes many minutes of fumbling to determine how screwed she is.
The stones completely block the path in front of her. No light is in danger of seeping through the cracks.
She's trapped.
Okay. Don't panic.
Those thoughts only make her panic more.
What will happen first? Will the earth shake some more, creating another avalanche of rocks that would crush her in this tiny cavern? Or will she die of dehydration, slowly, over the course of days?
The thought of water makes her mouth dry and the thought of a collapsing ceiling makes her feel like the walls are closing around her already.
She starts pulling at some of the stone that block her way. Some of the smaller ones move easily, but there's so many of them, not to mention the ones that are as tall as she is she couldn't possibly move if she tried.
She has to try. If she can make a tiny hole, she could maybe crawl through.
She's not ready to die. She promised her family she would try.
Anton wouldn't want her to join him. Neither would Owain.
Why did you die?
She doesn't know who the question is directed to.
She can't tell how much time passes as she mechanically moves the rocks. She's revealed a small hole, letting the faintest glow of light in.
It's enough to keep her going.
One by one the smaller rocks are cleared and more light comes through. She can see a larger opening with at least one additional path. And…is that sunlight?
Exa tries not to believe it. She doesn't know if she can take another false exit, another broken promise. The longer she stares, the less she's sure it's real sunlight or her mind playing tricks on her.
It doesn't matter either way. She has to keep pushing forward.
She allows herself a break, as her arms struggle with the smaller rocks. She sits on the stone ground, hunger and thirst washing over her.
Just a little longer. She reminds herself. Once she's free from the cave…
(She's still in the Hunger Games, except now she's alone.)
She tries to focus on better thoughts and better times. A lot of bad has happened in Exa Behren's first fourteen years of life, but there have also been plenty of good moments. Like her youngest sister's first day of school.
Quincy was much more energetic than usual. She was running around their small house, telling anyone who would listen that she finally got to go to school with her siblings. She was looking forward to walking with them, to holding Exa's hand and learning all the things that school would teach her.
Her excitement was contagious. That's what Exa remembered the most from that day. The pure childhood joy Quincy had was enough.
It was a moment Exa would kill to return to.
How long are her eyes shut before rocks crumbling sends her upright? She's not sure. It takes a few seconds for her to regain her bearings and realize the earthquake isn't back.
Someone else is, though.
Exa peeks through the rocks and sees a movement so quick she thinks she imaged it. Minutes pass before anything moves again, but when it does, Exa knows for certain it's another person.
It's a smaller person and Exa almost calls for Mori and Aizen as she can't recall anyone else left younger than sixteen. She holds her voice though, realizing that if the Gamemakers are cruel enough to start multiple rock avalanches, they'd be cruel enough to send a mutt after her.
She pulls back slightly as the small face looks back at her. He's human, she's certain of that at least. It takes her a few seconds to place him as the boy from Eleven.
"I won't hurt you," she says softly as he realizes someone's behind the pile of rocks he's glaring into. He stumbles backward, his eyes wide like an animal stuck in a hunter's scope. Except Exa isn't hunting.
He doesn't seem to know that.
"Please, I just want to get out. Are you able to move any of the pile?" Despite the softness in her voice, the boy still backs up further and further until shadows grab ahold of him and he vanishes as quickly as he had appeared, leaving Exa to wonder if she imagined the entire interaction.
She doesn't cry. She allows herself some time to rest, then she'll continue working at the pile of rocks.
She can do it. She will escape.
(She has no other choice.)
Caliadne "Cali" Karpathos, 18, District 4
Kikimora - Island A - 2135
Cali's living in a dream.
That's the only thing that would make this all make sense. It's the only thought that keeps her on her feet as fire rages around her.
It's fake fire because this isn't real. Just like Ronan's body wasn't real, and Vitali-Valerian's body crushed under the flaming tree wasn't real.
Those memories are just horrible nightmares the island forced upon her.
(They can't be real because if Ronan is dead, and Valerian is dead, who does she have left?
Not her parents, who never wanted anything to do with her. Certainly not the rest of the Careers, who turned on her as soon as she brought them the truth about Choux.
Ronan Niemi is the only one that ever had her back and she has to find him because they're supposed to do this together. She doesn't have another choice.)
She barely outruns the inferno around her. Somehow the flames continue to grow, even though they could just be a part of the illusion around her.
The burns are real though, and Cali's body is full of proof. None of the burns will cause permanent damage, but each new one that forms sends more jolts of pain through her body. The smoke is real, her lungs barely need to remind her. She's coughing and sweating and desperate for cold water she knows won't come around. She has nothing but a crossbow and a singed bag, damaged from the same flames that lap at her skin. The food from inside is long gone, but Cali keeps it wrapped around her.
It's proof of Choux's theft. It's proof she and Ronan found the truth.
He believed her. He always believes her. Even from the moment they met, he believed in her.
(He wants so badly for her to believe in herself.)
She does, she thinks. She believed in herself whenever they trained alone in their Academy. She believed in herself when she helped train him, especially after he got the volunteer spot. She believed in herself in her private session, when she fought the four strongest trainers without coming close to getting hit.
(Those private sessions might have been the first moment she remembers how freeing it all felt. She was so far from harm's way at home she felt invincible. She doesn't even remember what she was trying to do in her session. In the moment, the only thing that felt right was winning.)
(And that was without Ronan at her side.
He was right. She can do it. She just needs to find him and protect him from everyone who wants him dead.)
The fire still rages around her but the ocean starts to peek through the trees. She stumbles onto the sand before she remembers what happened the last time she was here. Fortunately, a first glance at the shore and the boats tells her no one is around.
She's not taking unnecessary chances. She inches towards the boat, bow raised and ready to shoot. There's nothing, no movement except the fires behind her.
Another tree must break as the familiar sound of branches crashing in the forest makes Cali jump. It doesn't pull her attention from the boat though, especially as movement makes her send a crossbolt directly into the culprit.
The bird drops into the sand as the rest of the flock flies away.
She moves away from the fire and removes the bolt from the bird. It's not large by any means, but it'll be enough to feed her for the night.
She grabs it and looks into the boat that the Careers once claimed. It feels unnatural, being here with no one else. It makes her feel safer and less secure at the same time. Strange, how the Games have twisted her perception of her concept of safety.
She's certain those who had their names called out on reaping day have never felt less secure in their lives.
She takes count of the supplies left behind after the chaos. As she expects, there's very little left, but she's able to salvage a larger bag with some water, which she promptly drinks, some bandages, and a few packs of fruit. She sets everything down but her weapon and walks closer to the ever-raging inferno to collect her own materials for fire starting.
She jumps at the start of the anthem, convinced the Capitol is making it echo louder just to catch their attention.
Vita-Valerian is the first face and even though she was with him when he died, seeing it in the sky, watching his face fade away for the last time makes a lot of things more real.
(He's dead. He's been dead.)
Cali's legs can't hold her weight any longer, and she lets herself sit in the sand as the boy from Six's face replaces Valerian's. Then, the girl from Seven.
(You saw his face last night, Cali.)
She can see it now, even after the anthem fades away and leaves behind the black sky. The sky must be fake. It was always so beautiful from the top of the roof at home.
(She always knew he would give his life for her, and he did. As much as she never wanted him to, he did.
Ronan Niemi came into her life when she needed it most, and even when she thought he had given up on them, he always found a way to prove her wrong.)
She remembers the heartfelt conversations on the roof. She remembers the laughter, the tears, and the kisses. She remembers the paintings.
No more tears, no more running. She'll do what they came here to do, for him.
For herself.
For them both.
Despite all the pain the last week has brought her, she's able to stand up stronger than she ever has before, and the feeling is one she never wants to let go of.
The small parachute floats just past the flames and Cali is able to catch it before it lands in the sand. She twists it open, a small note on top of a smaller thing of ointment.
'He wouldn't want you to lose hope, and neither do I. Do what you have to do to come home. ~Callista'.
The ointment underneath resembles a burn treatment the Academy nurses kept. Cali has never had to use it, but she knows it's effective. She also knows it must cost a fortune, especially if so many of them were caught in the flames.
She gives herself one night to rest, heal, and plan. Hopefully, one night is long enough for the flames to die down. Then, she'll start her hunt.
"Let's win this, Ronan."
Choux Macbeth, 18, District 1
Kikimora - Island A - 2210
The flames are getting out of control.
Choux stands a few feet into the river as the flames grow around her on both islands. She's fortunate the water doesn't rise above her boots, which protect her enough from the chill of the water. Despite that, the heat from the flames could almost suffocate her with how overbearing it is. Every few minutes she finds herself coughing and sweating excessively. Even the cold water from the river doesn't reduce it in full.
At least I'm out here and not in there, she reminds herself as her eyes follow the flame's path. She is grateful for her proximity to the river when she first noticed the heat growing. With a knife gripped in one hand, she might be better set than most of the others out there.
(That didn't stop her from running as soon as Amatus attacked.)
That was calculated, Choux knows. She knows that she's his number one target. He would and he will do anything to strike her down.
Unfortunately for Amatus, he's too stupid to see the threat until the poison seeps through his veins.
Maybe if Choux plays her cards right she can keep getting him to kill everyone around her. That would be quite generous of him, after all.
With the flames in no danger of dying down, Choux paces up the river. She keeps an ear out for any signs of danger, but the only sounds are the crackling of the flames. Every once in a while, she'll hear a branch snap and collide with the ground, but otherwise, no one's around her. Amatus must have lost her in the flames.
She briefly wonders if Astel managed to get the upper hand over Amatus. If he was so keen on chasing her, it left Astel with plenty of time to strike back. If that is the case, Choux feels much better with the idea of Astel on her tail over Amatus.
Unfortunately for Choux, she's well-versed in people and she feels even better equipped to assess their odds of survival. Amatus is less likely to lose in hand-to-hand combat. A typical brute from Two, he really is.
(He reminds Choux a little too much of her brother. And when her brother became too much, she took care of him.)
That's all Amatus is. Another problem for her to deal with. Another step required for her to return home. Home, where the Macbeth empire waits for her return.
There's nothing that could possibly stop her now.
Who else stands in her way? She parses through the faces that remain in the arena, starting with her former allies. Caliadne and Dahlia are the last Careers besides Amatus. Choux needs to get the upper hand on Cali, there's no chance she'll beat her with weaponry alone. Dahlia has too much of a flair for the dramatics to concern Choux too much, but she still needs to prepare.
There's also Eleanora. Choux wonders where she went. Her eyes fall to the other island, the one she hasn't explored at all. Logically, that's where she must be hiding. Choux contemplates using her to 'get revenge' on the Careers who look down on her still, but she's not quite confident in the girl's sanity.
It seems the rest of the Games will be Choux's fight alone.
Who else? The small girl from Six. The boy from Seven, Astel's district partner. The two boys from Ten and Eleven, and the Twelves. Most of them are under the age of fifteen.
Choux smiles. The hard part is done. Most of her real threats are dealt with. Anyone who wasn't paying attention to her certainly will be now.
She couldn't be more pleased with her efforts.
My siblings could never, the thought enters her head without her input but it's so timely she allows herself the smile. How the tables have turned from when they were children. They thought she was nothing. Useless. Weak.
Except she continues to breathe while dirt continues to eat their bones.
As she walks, she can see places where the fire starts to die down. It must have started closer to the mountains, as everything she can see is burnt to a black crisp. She finally steps out of the water, grateful for the waterproof features of her shoes, and looks around the island she's been on the entire time. She could explore the new island, but she's not compelled to. She's been doing fine on the first island. Why change her luck now?
She's slow to walk away from the river, knife still gripped in her hand. The burnt leaves are extra loud under her boots, which concerns her slightly, but it also reassures her that no one will be able to sneak up on her.
Even with the quietest grass underneath their feet, Choux could hear them. She's been programmed to hear it since Bijou and Bébé decided she would become their number one target. How ironic, that their torment of her so perfectly shaped her for the fight she's in now. She'll be sure to thank them, on her Victory tour.
The footsteps she hears now are not theirs, though. No, they belong to at least two others. Choux looks across the river and sees movement in the distance. She inches closer, curious at who she's found and if she should risk the fight now.
A second body walks between the trees on the other island and Choux can tell they aren't allies by the way they move. She sees long hair on one of them, but that's about it. The two tributes could be any of them.
Choux finds a spot close enough for her to watch the chaos unfold while staying hidden enough for them not to spot her so easily. Hopefully one will kill the other and she'll be able to swipe in and finish off the injured fighter.
Choux could laugh at how easy this fight has become when everyone's too focused on each other to notice the real threat looming until it's too late.
Eleanora Darzky, 17, District 5
Azhdar - Island B - 2300
Eleanora's mind spins and black encroaches on her vision. Her body aches and every movement sends a new pain through her muscles. Her left hand is definitely broken, and her right shoulder is damaged, but none of that matters because she's dead.
She's closed her eyes multiple times and each time her vision completely fades away, she thinks it's the end. She hears cannon after cannon and she thinks it belongs to her.
Except she can still smell the air around her. She can feel the pain in her body festering. And when her eyes open, she can see the same damned forest that wants to be her grave.
Not today.
She takes her movements slowly. She opens her eyes and leaves them open for a few minutes, letting the world stand still around her. Then, once the spinning dies down, she pushes herself up to her elbows. More spinning, more pain, but Eleanora is able to hold herself up. As she pushes herself up to a seated position, she can smell burnt bark all around her.
She doesn't know how she isn't burned to a crisp. She adds it to her list of unknowns, right under why the girl from Twelve didn't kill her.
(As pain becomes the new normal in Eleanora's body, she starts to feel an overwhelming amount of regret. She put herself here.)
(So did the Twelve girl.)
Eleanora hears something land softly in the leaves near her. She sees the source immediately; another sponsor gift.
Her blood is sticky on the ground around her but that doesn't stop her from moving her legs around. She has no desire to put weight on them now, so she half crawls and half pulls herself towards the gift. Every inch makes the gift feel further away, but eventually, she closes the distance enough to be able to grab it.
The tin is small and she assumes all that's inside is another fucking note taunting her. She lays on her back and unscrews the top with one arm, each twist sends a new pain up her muscles. When it finally opens, she's surprised when something falls beside her face. She picks it up, the tiny bottle with a singular pill inside. She looks back in the container, where a rolled-up piece of paper sits on top of another tiny tube. The tiny tube looks like something her parents used to keep at home for cuts and scrapes, some kind of ointment.
The note confirms it.
'This is the last gift unless you start accepting them. I'm not wasting more money on you.'
"Thanks, Dad," Eleanora says loud enough for the cameras to pick it up. She takes the pill out of the container and without thinking, her hand is tightening around it to crush it. Maybe it's because she's not strong enough right now, or maybe it's because, for the first time in years, she wants help.
(She wouldn't admit either are true. She puts the pill on her tongue, only swallowing when the powder starts to leave a foul taste in the back of her throat.)
She takes the ointment and gently applies it to all of her cuts. There are plenty to be found, and Eleanora knows the tube won't last a second round. Hell, she'll be lucky if she covers them all.
She starts with the biggest gashes on her face, stomach, and legs. As she moves, the ointment stinks her skin but whatever is in the pill seems to be taking effect. Her aches start to disappear. She can feel the movement in her legs again. She tries to stand and despite a few stumbles, she's able to stand.
She assumes it's only temporary. A strong pain reliever to get her on her feet. But it works.
She'll make sure not to thank him when she returns home.
The ointment works fast too. The red inflamed skin starts to calm down and stings less. She still needs a bandage to cover some of the larger wounds, so she rips off pieces of fabric and gently wraps them around her wounds. She takes her time, trying to keep her broken hand away from more pain. It's the only thing that does not respond well to whatever the medicine is. As the rest of her body settles from the extensive self-care, new pains hit.
Hunger. Dehydration. How many days since she last ate or drank? It's been at least twelve hours since she was attacked. The sun has nearly finished moving across the sky. She's lucky she's been covered by trees, otherwise she'd have a nice sunburn to show for it.
She can probably make it to the river before it gets too dark.
She picks up her katana and she starts walking. She's slow at first, very slow. Each step sends a new kind of pain through her muscles, but she keeps pushing because each minute that passes is another minute the medicine takes effect. The movement might be helping it work faster in her system, and she doesn't give a fuck if that's true or not, she's just desperate for the pain to stop.
Minutes pass and by the time she reaches the river, most of the severe pain has quieted down and she gets to reward herself with a long drink of water. She takes her time, drinking until she feels satisfied, and then she takes her time wiping away the dirt and blood that's basically become her second skin.
Slowly, she's starting to become herself again.
(She doesn't like what she had to do to get here.)
(But what choice did she have?)
She chose to be in these Games. She chose to prove her parents wrong.
(How does that matter now? If she comes home, she'll never hear the end of it from him. 'I saved your life' will fill the air around her until his last breath.)
She hits the ground with a closed fist, a scream threatening to escape.
"Fuck you," she mutters under her breath. She's not sure if the cameras will hear it. She's not sure she cares.
Someone else hears it, though.
Eleanora hears her footsteps crunching across the river before she sees her. She shoots up to her feet, gripping her katana tightly.
Her first reaction to seeing her is nearly to let the sword cut through the air and sever anything that can be severed. She doesn't do that though.
No, she doesn't dare release the only weapon that will give her the best chance at striking down Dahlia Akhem, who Eleanora can only describe as looking like a wet cat.
(A few days ago, Eleanora would be ecstatic to fight the most annoying contender in the Games. Now, Eleanora just wants to end the fight as quickly as she can.)
She takes a breath in, then out, and then closes the distance between the two of them.
This chapter was meant to be posted before VE but alas i couldn't do it
I hope it was worth the wait ;heart;
13th: Owain Fairburn, D7, killed by rocky avalanche
I had a lot of fun with Owain. He had a very interesting backstory and morals and every time I wrote him I just had so much fun playing with that. I knew as soon as I got him and Exa I wanted to pair them together. Thank you for trusting me with Owain, erik ;heart;
Kikimora / Island A
Choux, Amatus, Cali
Azhdar / Island B
Eleanora, Ozzy, Dahlia, Roman
Mt Mshai / In the middle of both islands
Exa, Vet, Chaffinch, Aizen, Mori
Alliances except most of them are alone
Not on fire: Roman, Ozzy
Set the fire: Aizen, Mori
Everyone else aka alone: Choux, Amatus, Cali, Eleanora, Dahlia, Exa, Vet, Chaffinch