Exa Behrens, 14, District 6
Azhador - Island B - 1020
It hurts.
Exa has cried herself dry. She's physically and mentally exhausted. She hasn't slept since before Owain…before…he…
(She can't even think about it without draining her further.)
She's sprawled on the burnt island grass right now, sweating and shivering at the same time.
Her arm hurts when it's still. It hurts when she moves it. She's long stopped trying to mask the pain. If the quiet boy hasn't abandoned her yet, she doesn't think he'll abandon her now.
(She tries to forget that he already abandoned her once. She can't rack her head around the entire situation.
She's simply too tired to try.)
He comes back with a handful of berries; when did he leave? Exa didn't notice. When her eyes are shut, she still sees the inside of the mountains. When they're open, the world around her is a haze.
Fading in and out of reality and a dream is exhausting but it continues to jolt her awake.
She just wants to rest.
First, she must eat.
The boy places a berry in her mouth and she chews it carefully. The juices tingle the back of her throat, quenching a thirst she didn't realize existed.
He puts another one in her mouth for her to eat, and then another. Exa's not sure how many times they repeat this. All she knows is she's grateful for him.
She thanks him. He doesn't respond. That's okay with her.
When she lays back down, she can feel every stick and rock underneath her back. She can feel every cut and scrape on her skin. Her fingers are sore from moving rocks again and again and again.
Yet all of it pales in comparison to the bite on her hand. The one that leaks fluid no matter how many times she presses against it with a piece of cloth. She tries not to look at it too long. Looking at it makes the pain worse.
Sometimes it's red. Sometimes it's green. Exa doesn't know what's real anymore.
The boy alternates between sitting and standing. At some point, Exa thinks he scales a tree. When she doesn't see him, she thinks he's left.
(When she sees he's still there, relief hits her each time.)
Being outside reminds her of her days in Six. Running along the gravel road with her brothers, the sun beating down on them, not a care in the world. No pain, no sickness, no dead siblings.
No infected hands.
She opens her eyes and a blurry figure dances in the outskirts of her vision. She pushes up on one elbow, trying to focus on the figure, on anything.
"Anton?" Her voice doesn't sound like her own and that must be the boy in the trees above her.
Her brother inches closer, and her mind tries to rationalize what she's seeing but there's no energy for that.
"Anton…" And just as he's close enough for her eyes to focus, he's gone.
The boy jumps down from the tree, eyes locked in the direction Exa fixates on. After a few seconds of searching, he turns to look at her. Words aren't necessary for her to know what he's asking her. It's the same question she's asking herself.
What?
She lays her head back down, pain flowing up her wrist. The tears have returned.
Her choices are horrible. Choices she's been ignoring for hours, leaving her worse for wear.
Lie here and die, or lose the hand.
Exa Behrens of District Six would have no problem cutting off her own hand to save her life. Life is precious. Her brother's life was precious. She preached that fact until they sent her into the Hunger Games to shut her up.
But the Exa that lies on the floor of the Hunger Games, besides a quiet boy who saved her life, who wasn't fast enough or skilled enough to save Owain…
That Exa isn't sure of anything, anymore.
(She thought she had it all figured out. She thought she had the solution to everyone's problems. God, she was so naive.)
It got Owain killed. It's going to get her killed.
The least she can do is keep the boy alive for as long as she can.
(He's smart enough to run away from danger. Unlike her.)
Footsteps echo in her brain and a figure in the distance makes her think Anton has returned.
(He's finally coming to take me home.)
Exa never gave much thought to death. When she was really young, it was a peaceful thing that happened to people much older than her. It made her sad then, but she knew it was natural.
When Anton got sick and died, everything inside her shattered. Maybe it is natural…but that doesn't mean it's always right. And when she found out his death certainly wasn't necessary…
Her death isn't necessary now. But at least she can be at peace with him.
"Anton…"
Except the figure that approaches them is not Anton. It's taller, much taller. Anton's hair isn't red.
Exa isn't sure the figure is real until her ally runs towards it.
Another boy dead, because of me.
She's in the middle of hoping her death is swift when a voice takes her off guard.
"You're safe…"
It's a voice she doesn't recognize. She forces her eyes open again, the scene making less and less sense the longer she looks. The boy, now kneeled to be closer to the ground, smiling at the smaller boy.
Something inside her clicks.
"Ten?" she asks. He turns to look at her, confusion is evident on his face. He inches closer to her, the smaller boy guiding him.
"Did Chaffinch…"
"We found each other in the mountain. There was a mutt. He…told me he was looking for you."
"Told you?"
"Indicated."
The boy nods. He looks at her hand and asks if the mutt that attacked them was a spider. She shakes her head. She gently pulls the cloth away from her hand. To her surprise, he doesn't wince. He must be used to wounds.
"Did you clean it?" She shakes her head. They don't have anything but a knife and some berries.
The boy pulls a small, nearly empty water bottle out of his bag. He gently pours it over her wound, where red and green mix with the clear water and she can feel the pain shooting up her arm and something inside her tells her it's too late.
(It was too late for Anton and Owain and now-)
"Vetiver. This is Chaffinch." He tears another piece of cloth off his shirt and rewraps her wound.
"Exa. Six."
"Thank you for saving him," Vetiver says. "We got separated in the avalanche. I heard cannons."
Owain's cannon, at least.
"Have you seen either of the Twelves?" She's afraid to ask but she's also afraid not to know. He shakes his head.
"No, I don't think so." He pauses. "We can look, though. Once you feel a little better."
Exa nods. She knows even he doesn't believe in his words. How many cannons have been fired in the last twelve hours?
(How many people has she failed?)
"Thank you for helping me," she directs at them both. The pain hasn't quite subsided but relief is just starting to set in.
(In her condition, it's enough.)
The boys settle around her. She thinks she hears Vetiver say some things to Chaffinch. Whatever it is, she doesn't care.
For the first time in days, she can sleep.
Caliadne "Cali" Karpathos, 18, District 4
Kikimora - Island A - 1200
Cali waits until the other boats have left before boarding her own.
Every move she makes is not without calculation. She's made too many errors since these Games started. Shit, even before the Games she was making mistakes.
She had Ronan to hold her up. They held each other up.
(She'd give a lot to have him back with her.)
Her stomach growls as the boat lurches forward. She's hardly had time to eat, rest, shit even think since everything fell apart. Even when she has rested, it's been unfulfilling. She's been plagued with fires and death for days.
Yet she's still alive. Valerian isn't. Klara isn't. Ronan…
She survives while everything around her crumbles to dust.
She props her elbows on the edge of the boat and watches the new island come into view. A whole separate part of the arena she's never seen.
Amatus and Choux are here. She has to assume they'll be waiting for her as soon as she gets off the boat. She doubts the two of them are working together, but that doesn't make either of them any less dangerous. She can't let her guard down. She has to stay alert.
She looks up into the sky.
"If you were here, you'd tell me it's going to be okay," she whispers, hoping he can hear her. "You were always good at that…"
Her eyes fall back on the island. It looks even more scorched than the first island. She shudders at the thought of suffering more burns. Her burn ointment certainly has enough left to treat her a little longer, but it doesn't stop the flames from hurting. It doesn't stop her healing skin from itching, reminding her of what she's endured.
As the boat inches closer to land, she prepares her crossbow. She ignores the mild ache in her stomach, promising herself she can hunt later.
When the boat lands, she kneels behind the wall, letting a few moments pass in silence before she feels comfortable getting off. She glances inside the other boats on the island, for signs of life or extra supplies, but doesn't find either. She does notice some faint footprints on the sand, but time has made their path indistinguishable. Whoever was here last has certainly been gone for some time.
She's careful, very careful as she moves across the sand and into the forest. She feels on edge, like any sudden movements and she'll send a crossbolt flying.
(Despite that, for the first time in her life, she feels capable. She's trained for this.
Because she's no longer winning for herself. She's winning for Ronan, too. And he's worth all she has to give.)
She knows seven other tributes lurk in these woods, but the further she travels the less proof of that she finds. Maybe the scorched ground has hidden away that evidence. Or maybe they're all alone like her, keeping low.
Then she remembers which other Careers are left and dismisses it. She doesn't think Amatus could lay low if his life depended on it.
Choux, though… She's underestimated the girl from One for too long. As far as Cali knows, Choux is right behind her, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The thought alone makes her turn around to check for pursuers.
She sees no signs of a pursuer, but that doesn't mean one isn't there. Cali hasn't survived this long without a little paranoia.
"Nothing can hurt us. We're a team."
"We're still a team, right?" Cali whispers to him. Once the words leave her mouth, she glances behind her again.
Probably not a good idea.
She continues to move through the forest, doing her best to do so as quietly as possible. As she moves, she looks for any signs of other tributes. All eight of them should in theory be on this island.
How big is the island anyway? Cali assumes it's the same size as the other one, and she only really ever saw about a quarter of it. Between the cornucopia, the beach, and the limited hunts she went on, it seemed to go on for miles.
This one seems to be similar in size, at least from the beach she landed on. That's about where the similarities end. The sand covering this island's beach is nothing like the rocks on the first island. The burnt ground and crispy bark are so much more ominous to her. How many fires has this island seen?
Cali's never been afraid of fire, at least not before these Games. After barely surviving the inferno that took Valerian's life, she's not keen to go through that again.
(Seeing Ronan's bloodied body surrounded by flames is an image that will never leave her.)
Maybe she should go back to the beach. At least there, she could easily avoid flames and an ambush. The idea festers in her head for some time. She slows down, and a snap in the distance grabs her attention.
She prepares the crossbow, too eager to pull the trigger. She refrains, and after a few moments of silence, she backs up to return to the beach.
Except…which way…?
Caliadne glances in all directions. Nothing looks right, or familiar. These woods are too damaged, too unrecognizable for her to do anything meaningful.
"When you can't go back, just push ahead. Even if it's scary."
Even in death, Ronan fulfills his promise to protect her, to keep her out of harm's way. Even in an arena where they knew only one would emerge, he always wanted it to be her.
He gave her everything he had, and she'll be damned if anything will stand in between her and her victory.
She closes her eyes for a second, pushes out all of the doubt and fear, and when she opens her eyes, she walks.
Roman Euroka, 16, District 9
Azhador - Island B - 1440
Roman and Ozzy settle somewhere in the middle of the forest, taking turns on who takes watch. It's Roman's turn now. As Ozzy dozes in and out of consciousness a few feet beside him, he has his eyes fixated on the woods around them.
Not that there's anything to look at. It's a false sense of security, he's sure, but he hasn't seen anyone new in…days? He can't be sure.
Nothing makes sense to Roman anymore.
In a sense, he's used to things not making sense. He's used to being beaten up, thrown around, and jumping back in the ring without any hesitation. He's used to not understanding the reasons behind his parents' absence, especially once his cash flow was stable enough.
(Questions upon questions have always been left unanswered in the Euroka boy's life. It's just something he's familiar with.)
Surrounded by woods and water that want to take his life from him, however, he's definitely not getting any answers. And anytime he tries to think about what the last few days have presented him with, he's left with a migraine and more questions.
(It's so unlike what he's used to, so much more…mechanical.)
Are his siblings watching? His mind racks for memories of his siblings, for their smiling faces and their laughter. The few joys of doing what he had to do.
(He never once questioned the things he did for them. He never hesitated when he took Ermias' place on that stage.
So why is everything falling apart around him?)
Because you're only sixteen. It's not his own voice that swirls in his brain. He glances behind him. Ozzy is still asleep, and he doesn't see any evidence of another person.
(What hurts more? Knowing he's slowly losing his mind, or knowing that the voice is right?)
He can't stay seated any longer. He pushes himself up, the crunching under his feet sending Ozzy up with him. The boy looks as delirious as Roman feels.
"I need a walk," Roman mumbles. Maybe Ozzy is about to convince him not to. Maybe he's about to try and convince Roman to let him join.
Roman doesn't give him the chance. The grogginess works in his favor because by the time Ozzy is on his feet, Roman disappears.
Sixteen. Two years left in the reaping bowl. Two years left of school. Two years left before he would probably commit himself to the fighting pit permanently. What would he do then? Move out? Take the kids with him?
The kids…I'm a fucking kid. Roman wipes away a tear he didn't realize forms until it wets the side of his hand.
It's not fair. Sixteen years old and hardly a year to himself. When did he start taking over for the family? Six? Seven?
He doesn't remember!
His fist meets the trunk of a tree and pain in his fingers is nothing compared to the ache in his heart.
He falls to his knees, blood and tears mixed on the floor below him.
"I'm sorry…" he mutters.
(To who? Roman isn't fucking sure.)
His brother?
(He's sorry for failing him.)
His parents?
Davidson?
(He's sorry for killing him.)
Ozzy?
(Maybe, for the first time in Roman's life, he can be a little sorry for himself.)
"You did this." He looks up to the sky.
His parents. The Capitol. Everything working against him.
Forcing him to work. To take care of the kids like he wasn't just a kid himself. Reaping his brother, Roman would volunteer again and again. That doesn't fucking resolve the Capitol of blame.
It'll be okay if I win.
(A lie.
What would change?)
His siblings would be cared for. He'd never have to step into the pit again.
(His parents would never stop working. It won't change if he wins.)
(But maybe, with the kids taken care of, he…he could breathe.
He could be a fucking kid himself.)
Tears turn to laughter and he wants to punch something again.
"Roman?" He jerks around, fist raised.
He lowers it when he sees Ozzy.
(And for the first time since the boat exploded…he feels.)
Roman pushes himself up, but the migraine returns and sends him stumbling backward. Ozzy grabs his wrist, stabilizing him.
(Roman's instinct is to punch him but he suppresses it.)
"I guess we're both a little fucked up?" Ozzy says.
It might just be the most honest thing Roman's ever been told.
"I'm more than a little," Roman says. His voice still doesn't fully feel like his own.
Maybe it's just something else he'll have to work towards.
"What are you thinking about?" Ozzy asks.
"My brother."
"The one you volunteered for?" Roman nods. "My sister would have killed me if I volunteered for her," Ozzy adds on.
"That's impossible," Roman says as the migraine starts to pulse back in. Splots of black start to fade in-
"I know. Just…yeah. If it were. Um…" Ozzy takes in the area around them. "Should we…find somewhere safer?"
"Is that another joke?" Roman asks, attempting a smile.
"Ha. No, uh, no we're in the open right now." Still, Ozzy breaks a smile.
This all used to feel natural.
Maybe-
The black spots grow and the next thing Roman knows he's leaning over, decorating the ground with vomit. Once that's done, Roman tries to regain any sense of balance.
It lands him back on the ground.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" Ozzy holds up… a number of fingers. When Roman doesn't answer after a few seconds, Ozzy's face drops. "You need more rest, my fucked up friend."
"I'm fine."
"You're concussed."
"I'm-"
Ozzy takes Roman by the arm and leads him to a…cleaner area. He encourages him to sit, to rest.
(Roman's never been particularly good at resting, but he obliges this time.)
"Rest."
Roman's head hurts too much to fight back anymore. He closes his eyes, letting his achy body pull him towards a dark sleep.
In his dreams, he's back at home. He's with his brothers and sisters. It could be the day before the reaping for all he knows. They all run around. He feels…joy. Like nothing matters more in the world than this moment.
For the first time in a long time, Roman feels uninterrupted joy.
Choux Macbeth, 18, District 1
Azhador - Island B - 1630
Choux prowls the edges of the island, both keeping an eye out for the enemies that remain and refilling her supplies.
She's lucky. Too lucky, she's aware. It's no easy thing, reaching the final eight of the Hunger Games, and her path has certainly been more controversial than most. She certainly didn't plan for all her plans to fall apart so miraculously. She hoped between her main alliance and her side alliance that she would feel secure for longer. If anything, she slightly underestimated those watching her. She got sloppy.
Still, more of the Careers are dead while she's still living. She's doing something right, conventionality aside.
She glances across the river, the large one that runs between the two islands. She sees a bush not too far off the shoreline of the other island, but she knows better than to try and cross the river now. She'll just have to find more plants and berries on this new island.
And quickly.
In all her readings and studies at home, she only ever touched on the basics of plant properties. The plants that weren't native to One were a footnote in the grand scheme of things.
(The datura she became all too familiar with doesn't seem to exist on these islands.)
When she saw the bush of dull purple leaves on the previous island, she thought they were her plant. When she realized they weren't, she almost let them be.
(Something in her gut told her to try it anyway.)
She might have doused her knife too heavily for Dahlia. But, well, a kill is a kill. Had the girl not stumbled over and died, Choux would have had to change tactics.
Choux takes count of how many poison berries she has left. A shame, the bush she found also found the flames. Had it not, well, the crown would already be hers.
After she counts the berries, she calculates how many kills the poison could secure her. Three smaller tributes, or one larger tribute with a bit left over to cause extreme discomfort for a second. She could fully douse one knife and leave the others ready to strike if needed. Choux's aim is certainly not her favorite skill but she could make do, if she must.
Between Caliadne and Amatus, she feels more confident facing Amatus. He continues to underestimate her, and he doesn't know she's found a helpful little stash. She's already evaded him once, granted she has Astel to thank for that distraction. She can assume he's likely stomping around the woods with little care on who hears him.
She'll know he's coming while he'll exist in ignorance at his impending death.
She secures her supplies and continues moving along. She keeps the river on one side, leaving her less ground to watch.
Really, though, it's been quiet for her. If she assumes no one is in an alliance, and everyone is mostly spread out, it means it won't be long before she comes across someone. She wonders how many of them are hunting, like her. The sun will set soon, therefore everyone is likely searching for a safe place to rest for the night.
That'll be the perfect time to find them. Unsuspecting and unprepared. Those are always the easiest kills, after all.
Choux isn't interested in putting on a show for anyone. The only person she's aiming to please is her grandfather. He made his wishes quite clear. But he's only looking for results. He doesn't care how she achieves her goal, or his. As long as it gets done.
(And done, it will get. Choux can envision her future as clearly as her past. She sees herself in that large estate, the entire span of the library to herself. There, no one will bother her. Not any siblings, nor Capitol citizens. There, she can finally breathe.)
First, she must kill.
She continues her search along the edge of the island. It's a shame how badly damaged the terrain is. She's just starting to believe that there might not be any salvageable supplies when a small clearing catches her attention. Through the charred grass and brush sits a few untouched bushes.
Choux almost thinks it's a trap with how little damage there is compared to everything else around it. She loops around the clearing, searching for anything inconspicuous. When she doesn't find anything, she steps into the clearing.
There are a few sets of berries that catch her eye. Some are basic edible berries. She takes a few, not enough to be noticeable. She looks at the other bushes in the area. Some of them she doesn't recognize as edible or poisonous. She doesn't want to risk either, so she leaves some of them be.
Just before she leaves though, she looks at one last bushel. The large leaves conceal the bright berries so well that it's no wonder she missed them.
She picks one off the stem to take a closer look. They don't look like the ones she found on the other island but they are similar. These are smaller and brighter.
She takes about half, storing them with the remaining berries. Something is better than nothing, and Choux isn't taking chances.
Once she's done, she returns to her path. Quickly and quietly, as long as she can go until sleep will inevitably take over.
Where will be safe to rest, she wonders. If only she knew where others were hiding out, she could be more intentional about her next actions. It frustrates her, stumbling around with no clear path forward.
She'd rather have some plan than no plan. At least with a plan, she could more easily improvise. If she knew who she would face next, she would feel more confident in preparing herself for an attack. At this rate, she'll just have to fully douse her knife in poison and hope for the best. That would work fine for Amatus or Caliadne, but be a waste for one of the smaller kids.
Grandfather is watching, she doesn't need to remind herself. The only thing that's going to get her through this is her composure. Whatever, or whoever she comes across next won't be able to stop her.
The crown is hers. She just needs to finish the job.
With that at the forefront of her mind, she continues to push forward.
TW: brief mention of pet death
Vetiver Brune, 18, District 10
Azhador - Island B - 2150
As long as Vetiver can remember, he's never been this invested in people who, less than two weeks ago, were strangers to him.
The only person he's ever let this close to him is his dad. As long as Vetiver has been breathing air, it's been him, his dad, and his dogs in his sphere.
It's what made him most comfortable and what made Brune's business successful: no outside influences or distractions.
Just him and his dad.
Now he leans against a tree that one of his allies has climbed watching over one of his allies that's poisoned with….mutt juices or whatever was in that horrid spider's mouth.
He hates watching her live in pain. He didn't know her in the Capitol, not really at least, but she's so young.
(She saved Chaffinch and it may have cost her her life and they might not be able to save her.)
Vetiver knows all three of them won't survive. Five more lethal tributes stand between them and victory and, well, Vetiver can't even imagine taking a life.
(He thought badger hunting was hard, but the dogs did all the work. They were the ones with the blood on their hands…or rather their paws. They were the ones that killed. Vetiver just got paid.)
And yet, he has to fight. For his dad, he misses his dad so much. For his dogs, who don't understand where he's gone. For Chaffinch, who has no one rooting for him back at home.
For Exa, whose family must be watching her suffer on screen and must be pleading with him to do something for her.
What can he do? What has he ever been able to do? He couldn't even save Selkie when the badger attacked her. He's barely been able to save himself.
Time is ticking.
The anthem snaps him out of the downward spiral. The music jolts Exa awake, and both of their eyes lock in on the sky.
Vetiver doesn't even know how many cannons had fired that day. Faces come and go; faces he doesn't even recognize.
He doesn't recognize either of the Twelves, but the small sob that escapes Exa still breaks his heart. He tries to find the right words to say, but none of them are right because nothing about their situation is right.
Chaffinch crawls down from the tree and stands beside Exa. He looks at Vet, then back at Exa. He kneels down and offers her a flower.
She takes it, but it only makes her cry harder.
(Maybe words aren't necessary. Maybe they never have been.)
Vetiver sits down next to them and releases himself from the pressures of talking. He watches Chaffinch twirl some leaf through his fingers, twisting and knotting it in various ways until it rips. Then, he picks up another one and the cycle repeats.
Exa's crying eventually softens. Vetiver takes another look at her wound. It's not like any bite he's ever dealt with. A few times a wild animal would nip him, sometimes even break his skin. Even when a slight infection would take over, he's been able to treat it with his supplies or nature's supplies.
Everything in the area has likely been burnt away, but Vetiver doesn't want to just sit by and watch her suffer anymore. He has to do something.
"Stay with her," he asks Chaffinch. The boy smiles a toothy smile. Vetiver can't imagine how he's coping so well with this.
Vetiver thinks Chaffinch is probably more comforting of a presence to Exa than he is.
(It saddens him to think like that.)
Vetiver turns from his two small allies and starts his search in the area near them. He doesn't want to stray too far, but he's desperate for a solution for her.
(He can't watch her suffer, not like he did Selkie.
It's his fault the spider got her, isn't it? Because he couldn't kill it the first time.
It didn't die and it went after her.
What if it got Chaffinch?)
Vetiver finds a small clearing that doesn't seem as damaged as the rest of the area around him. He recognizes a few of the plants, some of them familiar from the woods in Ten. He takes a handful of edible berries, leaving some more suspicious-looking ones behind. He wonders what animals have been around, based on the missing patches he takes note of. Unless Chaffinch and Exa found this patch before he found them.
He pushes away the distracting thoughts to focus on the task. By the time he's done, he has enough for his two allies to snack on. He'll be able to find more food in the morning. He's no stranger to hunger. On long hunting days with his dogs, he frequently forfeited food to ensure his dogs were well-fed. He never regretted it then, therefore he knows it's the right thing to do now.
He returns to see Chaffinch curled up in a small pile of leaves and foliage not too far from Exa. She's still lying down, but Vetiver can see she's awake. Her tears have dried but he can tell the pain is still there. He sits near her and offers her the berries. She takes some.
"Is he asleep?" Vetiver asks quietly. Exa nods. He wasn't gone that long, was he?
Vetiver thinks back to what he knows about the boy. As little as it is, he gets the sense that Chaffinch has always been most comfortable in nature. It might be why the boy seemed so uncomfortable cooped up in the training center. Maybe the mountain caves were too claustrophobic for him.
Regardless, Vetiver is relieved the small boy is able to get some rest.
"You should rest too," he whispers to Exa. She doesn't respond, not right away. She doesn't even look at him when the minutes pass and she finally does speak up.
"I think it's too damaged," she says. It takes Vet a moment to realize what she's talking about. He waits for her to pull back her sleeve so he can see the damage.
(Somehow, in the hours that have passed since he first came across these two, it's gotten worse.)
He tries not to recoil when he sees the darkened skin, nor when he sees the awful colored fluids that leak out of it. He can see the infection starting to spread up her hand and into her wrist. The rest of her arm seems clear.
For now.
"Do…uh….should we….?" Vetiver can't finish that question. Thankfully, he doesn't have to.
"No." Exa pulls her sleeve back down to hide it. She shakes her head to get her point across. "Don't touch it."
He doesn't try to persuade her either way. What could he even do about it? He's no medic. The worst of his injuries have been fine with some water and dressings. What Exa needs is a full Capitol team of doctors working to save her hand.
She won't get that unless she wins.
(He's going to sit by and watch her die at this rate.)
(How will he explain this to Chaffinch?)
Vetiver looks up into the sky, allowing his mind to take him away from here, to a peaceful world where none of them are injured and none of their lives are on the line. Where Exa and Chaffinch can run around and be kids. Where he and his dad don't have to be worked to death to make a living.
(If the best Vetiver Brune can do is dream, well, maybe they're all doomed.)
ummm no deaths ;heart; sorry ;heart; I know everyone was expecting them buttt (lol I said butt) um we had to do this first :D
next chapter is the last chapter before the finale. take that as you will.
ummmm yeah see u in two or three weeks !
Azhdar / Island B
Ozzy, Roman, Choux, Exa, Vet, Chaffinch, Cali, Amatus
Alliances except most of them are alone
concussed: Roman, Ozzy
the littles w their older brother: Chaffinch, Exa, Vet
Everyone else aka alone: Choux, Amatus, Cali