𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗 ✪ 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙾𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚛

- ȶɦɨʀȶʏ

Willa was too stressed to fall asleep. Her brain was too loud. So she stayed awake for a lot of the night to keep watch. But eventually her brain was able to calm down enough to sleep. She gently shook Brutus awake so he could keep watch. Brutus blinked blearily as Willa nudged his shoulder, the faintest light beginning to filter through the thick canopy above. His hand instinctively reached for the weapon at his side, but when he saw it was Willa, he relaxed.

"Your turn," she murmured quietly, her voice hoarse from the dryness in the air. Brutus sat up slowly, rubbing his face with one hand and then scanning the dark jungle around them.

"You get any sleep?" he asked. Willa shook her head.

"Not much. Couldn't shut my brain off." she said. Brutus grunted.

"Yeah, that's normal. Especially in this place." He glanced at her, studying her expression. "You okay?"

"As okay as I can be in a death trap." Willa shrugged, her eyes hollow with exhaustion. He didn't laugh, didn't make a joke. Just nodded and leaned forward to take her place near the perimeter, settling into a crouch.

"Get some rest. I'll keep an eye out." he said. Willa hesitated, her hand still resting on the ground. She looked at Brutus, eyes softening slightly.

"Thanks." she said.

"Don't thank me yet," he muttered. That got the ghost of a smile from her. She lay down carefully on the uneven ground, tucking her twin blades close to her side. The air was warm and heavy, the sounds of the jungle loud with chirps and rustling, but somehow, her eyelids began to droop. She didn't sleep deeply, not here, not in this place—but for a short while, the nightmares were kept at bay. Brutus glanced back once as she drifted off, watching the way her hand twitched slightly in her sleep, how her breathing began to even out. Brutus shifted his position slightly, keeping low and still, his eyes constantly scanning the undergrowth. He didn't like the jungle. Too many places for things to hide. The Games were always twisted, but this one—it felt alive in a way the others hadn't. Breathing, watching, waiting. A soft rustle in the distance made him stiffen. Not a tribute, not yet. Probably just a bird or one of the genetically altered creatures the Capitol had set loose in the arena. Still, he kept his grip tight on his spear, his muscles tense and ready. Behind him, Willa let out a soft sound in her sleep. Not a word, not quite a cry—just a breath caught in a dream. Brutus turned his head slightly to glance back at her. She'd curled in on herself a bit, one hand still loosely wrapped around the hilt of her blade. The girl looked so much younger when she was asleep. Too young to be here. He remembered seeing her in training, quiet but sharp. Observant. Not like the other tributes. She didn't waste her energy trying to intimidate anyone—she just studied, practiced, listened. Brutus respected that. Hell, maybe even admired it. He turned back to the trees. The jungle was waking up with the sun now, buzzing louder with life. He reached into his belt and pulled out a small strip of dried meat, chewing slowly. His thoughts drifted—how many tributes were left? Who would they face next? Would the next trap be environmental, or another wave of mutts? Then, soft footsteps behind him. Not Willa's. Lighter. He turned just in time to see Cashmere approaching, her expression alert but calm.

"You two switch shifts?" she asked in a whisper, crouching beside him.

"Yeah," Brutus murmured. "She needed the sleep."

Cashmere glanced past him toward Willa.

"She holding up?" she asked.

"Better than I expected. Worse than she deserves." Brutus shrugged. Cashmere didn't reply, just nodded once, then settled in beside him. The alliance wasn't exactly warm—never had been. But it was solid. Reliable. And in the arena, that counted for everything.

"She's got fight in her," Cashmere finally said. "But she's soft, too."

"Not soft. Just not cruel." Brutus glanced at her.

"Same thing in this place." Cashmere gave a dry smile. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the jungle. Waiting. Watching. Somewhere behind them, Willa shifted slightly in her sleep, her fingers tightening on her blades. But she didn't wake.

"You can sleep. I can watch over you three. She stayed awake most of the night," Brutus muttered, gesturing to Willa.cCashmere didn't answer at first. Her eyes lingered on Willa's sleeping form, brows knitting together in a way that almost hinted at something close to worry. Not fear, not softness—but something. A flicker of doubt maybe, or maybe guilt.

"She shouldn't have to carry that weight," Cashmere said quietly, almost to herself. Brutus didn't respond. He knew what she meant. Willa didn't kill for sport. Not like they were expected to. She fought when she had to—fought well—but there was something about her that never quite fit the Career mold. She wasn't bred for this. She was surviving despite the system, not because of it. Cashmere stood after a moment, brushing dirt from her hands.

"I'll rest a little. But yell if something happens." she said. Brutus nodded, eyes never leaving the perimeter.

"I always do." he said. She padded quietly back toward where Gloss was resting a short distance away, and Brutus was alone again with the sounds of the jungle and the quiet, steady breaths of the girl who had somehow become the moral compass of their group without ever asking to be. Another hour passed. Brutus stayed alert, ears tuned to every chirp, every rustle. The Games didn't rest, and neither could they. But then he heard it—a faint splash, distant but distinct. His body stiffened. Not an animal. Too heavy. A tribute crossing water, maybe. Moving through the jungle nearby. He turned slightly, hand brushing the hilt of his blade. Behind him, Willa stirred. She sat up slowly, blinking groggily. Her fingers still curled around one of her blades out of instinct.

"What is it?" she whispered, voice still rough with sleep.

"Movement. Just one, maybe two. Could be nothing." Brutus didn't take his eyes off the trees. Willa was fully awake now, eyes sharp. She knelt beside him, silent, listening. After a few moments, the jungle fell still again—unnaturally still. Even the insects seemed to quiet.

"That's not good," Willa muttered under her breath.

"No," Brutus agreed. "It's not."

They exchanged a look, unspoken understanding passing between them. Time to wake the others. Time to move.