BRIGHT BLUE FADES, TURNING YELLOW AND PEACH AS THE SUN SETS, leaving Tessa with a feeling of profound emptiness in her skull. She once savoured the quiet of night, but the buzzing of the sun reminds her she is alive.
Training sessions have quietened, with younger campers going to read and older campers going to talk before dinner.
Tessa sits by the campfire, twirling one of her arrows into the sound dirt at her feet, relishing the feeling of the wood in her hands, and the small circle being made thanks to the sharp tip. She thinks for a moment, Will I get to fight the way the heroes did? And then she wonders if that makes her a bad person, to dream of that, given the pain she has already caused. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the gnawing in the back of her mind that wants to scream and cry until she can feel nothing.
A hand touches her shoulder, and the wood of her arrow is splintered in her hand. She has snapped it in two. A curse, vulgar, even for her, escapes her lips, which she immediately regrets as two young campers walk by.
She hears a familiar laugh behind her, but it sounds off, different. She looks over her shoulder, just to be greeted with a view of Luke's stomach. She tilts her head up until she finds his face, mouth open, ready to lecture him for making her break one of her favourite arrows.
The look on his face stops her.
His eyes are dark, his lips pressed into a firm line, brows furrowed.
"I'm not sure a swim is gonna cut it, Castellan." She speaks before he does.
"No..." He's hesitant, which surprises her, "No, I think I need more..."
She knows him, she knows that look and knows his frustration the way she knows her own.
"Let's go for a run."
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They run along Long Island Sound, rucksacks filled with bottled water, nectar – Luke's request; he didn't trust Tessa to stay upright the whole run – and any snacks they could steal without getting caught.
Tessa's legs burned and her lungs screamed. Why she suggested a run was beyond her. The cool sea air did very little to dry the sweat dripping from her forehead.
She almost crashes into Luke when he stops suddenly, tossing his pack to the ground, dragging his hands through his hair and down his face.
She is certain she is going to vomit, but the look on his face forces her to regain some modicum of composure.
"I need more, Tess." He isn't looking at her, instead, he is staring out at the water as it comes and goes, comes and goes, comes and goes.
She almost snorts. "I can't give you more right now, if I do, I will die."
He shakes his head, barely a movement.
"Wow," she doesn't understand, "Sorry if my company isn't enough for you."
