STATIC → newt , tmr [EDITING ; VERY SLOW UPDATES]

chapter xi

― ➶ ―

"Bow, bow, bow, bow," Tiago murmured under his breath as he rummaged through everything he could see. His eyes were frantic and he could hardly focus, but there were only so many places in this tent that someone could've put a bow and quiver. All he could think about was a mop of blond hair and a frantic accent and scared eyes―

"Shit," Tiago growled, scraping a hand down his face. "Focus, Tiago."

It only took another minute before he found his bow and quiver―shoved behind a tower of crates. He grabbed them both, slinging the quiver over his shoulder as he rushed toward the tent exit. He barely poked his head out, scouting the danger level, before he retracted his head immediately. The whoosh of a bullet missed his head by a mere two inches. He gasped a deep breath and readied an arrow; someone knew he was here now.

Sure enough, a tall armored person ducked under the tent flap. Tiago had a split second to think: bulletproof armor, find a weak spot, a calf, just below a shoulder, why is this guy so tall, side of the neck―

Tiago let go, and his arrow went flying. He heard it pierce through the fabric that wasn't bulletproof, and then the man let out a loud cry. Tiago had hit him just above the ribcage. He knew he only had about three seconds before the man would be fine and get up to shoot at him again, so Tiago launched forward and shoved him hard in the chest. The man toppled over, and Tiago didn't hesitate to leap over him and sprint out of the tent.

Now out in the open, Tiago grabbed another arrow and prepared to fire again. He knew he couldn't do a lot with a bow in the middle of a battlefield, so he looked for the nearest high ground. The ridge where he was with Newt was closest, and even that was still a while away. Tiago knew he had taken a risk getting to a tent in the middle of the fight, but he had taken that risk on the off-chance he could get back to safety.

Tiago shifted to the other side of the tent, his bow still raised. He saw another WCKD soldier with his back turned to him. Tiago licked his lips, pulled back as hard as he could, and let it fly. His eyes followed the arrow through the air, straight to―

Tiago choked.

The soldier had moved. His arrow kept going and embedded itself straight into someone else. A boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Tiago's throat dried as he watched the young boy cripple, and any other thought he had about finding safety immediately flew from his mind. He rushed forward, his bow still clutched tightly in his hand. He toppled into the dirt beside the injured boy and grabbed his shoulders, dropping his bow in the process.

"Hey, hey, you're alright, okay? You're fine, here, sit up ... Come on."

Tiago hauled the boy into his arms, cradling the brunet's head against his shoulder. His eyes were blurred as he snapped his head to the right. He was tearing up.