𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗 ✪ 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙾𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚛

- ȶաɛռȶʏ ɛɨɢɦȶ

"I don't get it. Why wasn't Willa trying to hurt us?" Katniss asked, trying to catch her breath.

"I dunno, it was weird," Peeta said.

"Maybe she's just playing some kind of game. Messing with our heads." Katniss said.

"She had the perfect opportunity, though. She could've taken me out, taken any of us out, but she didn't." Peeta frowned.

"It wasn't hesitation, though. It was... deliberate." Finnick shook his head. He leaned against a tree, twirling his trident absentmindedly. His expression was unreadable. Katniss exchanged a glance with Peeta, then looked back at Finnick.

"Do you think she's working against the Careers?" Katniss asked. Finnick let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head.

"No, she's with them. But that doesn't mean she's like them," Finnick said. He would defend Willa, always.

"Maybe she's playing her own game." Peeta quietly said.

"That's what I think." Finnick nodded. Katniss glanced between them, her stomach twisting with uncertainty. Willa was a Career. She trained for this. She was strong, fast, skilled. If she wasn't killing, it wasn't because she was incapable—it was because she was choosing not to.

But why?

Finnick sighed, pushing away from the tree.

"Look, believe what you want. But I know her, and I know she's not like Brutus. Or Cashmere. Or even Gloss." He looked at them, expression serious. "If we run into her again, maybe don't assume she's the enemy."

"Yeah, sure. Let's trust the girl with the knives." Katniss rolled her eyes.

"Worked out pretty well for me so far." Finnick smirked. Katniss wasn't sure what to think. But one thing was certain—Willa was an unknown factor. And in an arena like this, that was dangerous.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

Willa crouched near the small fire they had risked lighting, absently running a stone along the edge of one of her twin blades. The steady motion kept her hands busy, kept her thoughts from drifting too far into dangerous territory.

"That was a disaster," Cashmere muttered, arms crossed as she leaned against a tree. Her golden hair, usually pristine, was damp and tangled from the jungle's relentless humidity. "We should've caught at least one of them."

Gloss let out a frustrated breath, tossing a rock into the undergrowth.

"We had the advantage. Finnick was right there. We should have taken him out first." he said. Brutus, ever the brutal pragmatist, cracked his knuckles.

"We hesitated." His gaze flicked to Willa. "Some more than others."

Willa didn't look up, didn't react. She simply kept sharpening her blades, the rhythmic scrape filling the brief silence. Cashmere narrowed her eyes.

"You were closest to Finnick. Why didn't you go for him?" she asked. Willa's fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade for a fraction of a second before she forced herself to shrug.

"He saw me first. I lost the element of surprise." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth either.

"And?" Brutus scoffed.

"And I'm not an idiot. I wasn't about to rush in blind." She finally looked up, meeting Brutus's gaze with a cold, unreadable expression. "Finnick isn't some rookie who can be taken down with brute force. I was waiting for the right opening."