Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Task 6 | Cogito Ergo Sum

ROOTS - 6

There was nothing more soothing than hearing the sound of the river back to its normal level of rushing, far off and minding its own business. How Follin had managed to sleep through a lull in the storm was beyond him, maybe he was just deprived of something he never appreciated enough, maybe he wanted a reason not to listen in on it - whatever it was, it'd put him in a drowsy slump. Glancing down and rubbing his eyes, he found that Valentine had already made her way out of the small cave, currently sitting upon a rock and sharpening one of her few weapons. She probably left as soon as the water receded. I would too, if I were her. Ah, man, I hope I wasn't snoring...

When he struck his head exiting the alcove, it was of no surprise to him. Same old, same old, and something he was grateful of doing just for the sake of remembering that he was still Fallin' Follin, not some bloodthirsty beast thrown into a rampage by gasses or anything even remotely similar.

His skull, however, wasn't so accepting.

As he made his way down, he bit back a groan, something which pushed open his lips and escaped like a convict as soon as his feet touched the ground. The headache would blossom throughout the day, he knew that from experience and was well prepared for the onslaught of aches to accompany the collection of bruises he'd brought together on one canvas throughout the week.

Valentine stiffened, but didn't turn around. She sped up the pace at which she sharpened a handheld axe with a rough stone, throwing sparks at the small fire before her as she did so. Follin came up beside her, cautiously, like a horse coming up to a foreign hand for carrots - there was always the uncertainty of what a person would do. Shuffling forward, he placed his rump upon a large rock across from Valentine, making sure not to let his gaze linger for too long. He looked where he could: the fire, still dull and barely living, the sky, for the first time displaying not a single cloud, even his hands, which repulsed his vision with all the dirt caught in the creases of his palms and scratches. No matter where he looked, he couldn't avoid the girl's face, nor could he control his tongue.

"So, ah, how 'bout that weather?" Really, Follin? Really?

"Don't." She didn't glance up, but he thought he saw her lip twitch just the slightest bit before falling back into a set frown.

He swiped a hand over the back of his neck, flinging off sweat and traces of mud. "Figured you'd say that." Deeming that a conversation was void, he reached up to his neck, feeling around for the thin chain. A habit had developed where he'd take the little hourglass charm and rub it, one circular rub for each day that had passed, then each hour he guessed had melted into the day. It helped him collect his thoughts, something he once threw away once he'd made use of them but now kept in a growing pile in the corner of his mind. Forgetting wasn't just something you could do in an arena with - how many people were out to kill him? Ten, twelve? - tributes sniffing you out.

After a while of zoning out and feeling around, he finally jolted back to reality and dug deep beyond the collar of his shirt. Why is this so hard? Furrowing his brows, he resigned himself to just stretching out his collar and glancing down his chest.

It was bare.

Something like panic smacked his chest and he popped his head out of his shirt, sucking in a deep breath and entwining his hands to keep from shaking. "It's gone, I've lost it, it's gone," he muttered over and over, searching through his pockets, in his sleeves, even his boots.

When Valentine finally looked up, Follin wasn't paying attention, instead running his hands over the rock even though he knew full well he hadn't dropped the necklace there. Placing down her axe, Valentine leaned forward. "What's gone?"