𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗 ✪ 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙾𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚛

- ȶɦɨʀȶʏ օռɛ

Willa rose to her feet, knees stiff from sleeping on the uneven ground. She moved quietly, brushing dirt from her clothes and heading toward Cashmere and Gloss without a word. The air was thick, humid, almost suffocating—and the silence pressing in on them was worse than any noise. She crouched beside Cashmere first, gently touching her shoulder.

"Time to move," she whispered. Cashmere's eyes opened instantly—her instincts sharp as ever. No groggy confusion, just a small nod as she reached for her blade. Gloss was already sitting up by the time Willa reached him, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I heard it too," he murmured. "Close?"

"Close enough," Brutus answered from where he stood guard. "Something spooked the jungle."

They packed quickly, not that there was much to gather—just a few makeshift satchels of food, water containers, and weapons. No one spoke. The quiet urgency was enough to keep them moving. Willa slung her twin blades onto her back and adjusted the strap across her chest. Her eyes scanned the treetops, the shadows beneath the ferns, the waterlogged roots winding through the jungle floor. It could be another tribute—or something worse. The Capitol never ran out of tricks.

"West?" Gloss asked, his voice low. "We haven't explored that way much."

"Let's move." Brutus gave a single nod. The four of them moved as one, falling into an easy rhythm despite the tension. Willa stayed near the middle—she had a knack for catching things others missed. Cashmere took the rear, always alert for someone trying to trail them. They didn't get far before the first sign appeared. A smear of blood—fresh—along the side of a tree trunk. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough. Brutus stopped abruptly, raising a hand. The group froze.

"Too fresh," he said. "Maybe an hour old. Whoever it was... they're not far."

Willa stepped forward, studying the blood. Her brows drew together.

"It's low," she said softly. "Not from a fight. From a leg wound, maybe. Could be they're limping."

"That could slow them down," Cashmere added. "Could mean they're alone."

"You want to track them?" Gloss looked at Willa. Willa hesitated. It wasn't like her to hunt for sport. But if it was someone injured... if they could get ahead of it, figure out who it was, they could at least prepare. Maybe avoid a fight altogether.

"Yeah," she said finally. "Let's see who it is."

Brutus gave her a sharp glance. Not disapproving—just curious. She was always the one steering them away from unnecessary violence. But now, she was leading the charge. They moved forward, more slowly now, following broken branches and a faint trail of red drops. The jungle grew denser, the light thinner. Finally, a flicker of movement ahead. A shape, half-collapsed near the roots of a gnarled tree. Willa raised her hand, signaling the others to stop. She moved forward alone, blades in hand, heart pounding in her ears. As she drew closer, the figure shifted—and Willa froze. It wasn't a threat. It was the District 11 female—Seeder. with a gash on his thigh and eyes wide with fear. She didn't even try to reach for her weapon. She just stared at her, breathing hard. Willa tightened her grip on her blades. Then, slowly, she lowered them.

"Go," she said quietly. "Before they get here."

"What?" her eyes widened further.

"Run," she said, stepping aside. "You have ten seconds."

She didn't question her. She just scrambled to her feet and limped into the undergrowth, disappearing into the vines. Willa stood there a moment longer, listening. No cannon. Good. Then she turned and walked back toward the others, her face unreadable.

"What was it?" Brutus asked.

"Thought I saw someone. Didn't see anyone though," Willa said. "Probably just old blood."

Cashmere didn't buy it. She looked at Willa for a long moment but said nothing. They moved on. No one mentioned it again. They kept walking after that, weaving deeper into the jungle as the sun climbed higher overhead. The heat was unforgiving, clinging to their skin like a second layer, and the silence between them grew heavier with every step. No one questioned Willa further, but she could feel it in the way Cashmere kept glancing at her—like she was trying to piece her apart without saying a word. Brutus didn't press. Gloss didn't either. But that didn't mean they didn't notice. They weren't stupid. Willa stayed quiet. Focused. Her eyes flicked to every sound, every shift in the trees, every echo of birdsong that fell a little too quiet. But inside, her thoughts churned. She'd let two tributes go now.

Katniss. Seeder.

That was twice she hadn't done what she was supposed to. And she didn't know how many more times she could get away with it. Eventually they stopped in a clearing near a stream to refill water and rest. Gloss crouched near the water's edge, rinsing blood off his arm—an old scrape from earlier. Cashmere stretched out under a low tree, eyes closed but not sleeping. Brutus stood on the perimeter, still and sharp like a statue carved out of iron. Willa crouched near a tree trunk, running a hand along the edge of her blade, more to keep her fingers busy than anything else. Gloss glanced over at her.

"You sure you didn't see anyone back there?" he asked, casual enough. Willa didn't look up.

"Yeah. Just spooked myself." she said.

"Doesn't sound like you." he said. Willa finally lifted her eyes, meeting his.

"You saying I lie often?" she tilted her head.

"I'm saying you don't rattle easy," he said. "That's all."

She didn't reply. Just went back to her blade. He didn't push. A few minutes passed in silence, the only sounds the trickle of the stream and the distant call of birds. Then Brutus returned from his sweep.

"We're good for now," he said. "No signs of anyone close."

"We need to keep moving before the heat gets worse. Or before they drop something new on us." Cashmere sat up, brushing dirt off her hands. Willa stood, sliding her blades back into place.

"We heading west again?" she asked. Brutus gave a short nod.

"Until we hit higher ground." he said.