#cageevent1

The entire day, Malakai felt like something was off.. It was an intuition he’d learned that was usually right, but he brushed it off. This was the first time in months that he’d settled in with a group, especially one with so many faces he recognized. Mal didn’t like a few, one in particular, but the ones he did.. They pretty much made up the difference. It wasn’t easy for him to trust anyone, but the least he could do was act humane, at least until he felt like he’d served some kind of purpose. Unfortunately, at the mention of a bonfire, the male immediately regretted his decision to stay. The smoke from the fire would signal anyone near it of their location, day or night. To say he was considering leaving the group before the ‘party’ even started wouldn’t be a huge leap. But, he stayed, despite everything in him screaming to run. Maybe it was just nerves; he had just joined a group. Whatever it was, he wanted it gone - so he drank.

Malakai could easily down one bottle of most home made brews himself, emptying half in just one giant gulp. And that’s where he started. But the last time he’d drank was so long ago, he could hardly remember who he was even with. Halfway through his own bottle he’d saved from a heist he’d pulled with another outlaw, Mal could feel his senses begin to dull. Right. His stomach was basically empty. He’d hardly eaten within a week, and the effects were still hitting him. After just another small drink, he finally closed the bottle and stored it back into his pack. If he had any more, he would have definitely been inebriated, but he knew his limits. Bright blue eyes flashed behind eye lids. They tried to focus on the people prancing around by the debris that was gathered for the bonfire. He hadn’t lost his vision, and he wasn’t even close to seeing double, but the edges were starting to blur a little.

A real smile graced Mal’s face as he thought of Addison. He’d always loved her as if she was really family, and she knew that. It had hit him a little when he’d first bumped into Addie. Time had gone by so slowly.. It had been, what? Years since they’d last seen each other. Honestly, he would have looked for her had he not been so wrapped up in his own twisted thoughts that she was already gone. Seeing her was like a smack to the face, but not in a bad sense. It reminded him that good things did happen, and not everything he cared about crumbled away. If it wasn’t for her, he probably would have left the same night he’d come across the fire. Malakai would have taken what he could from the sleeping group before disappearing back to his temporary hiding spot without a second glance. But, she pulled him in, as much as he disliked working with others.

While thinking of her, Mal noticed he hadn’t really seen her since the bonfire started. It wasn’t odd to him that she wasn’t spending time with others. He knew how she was about social interaction. The boy just shrugged, figuring she was off in her own world, and decided to do the same. It was a long week, after all, seeing all these faces.. new and old. As much as he hated to rely on people, Mal was glad to know he still wasn’t alone. But, some good quiet time was always nice especially when you have to take a leak. Malakai got to his feet, wobbling ever so slightly before wandering away from the bonfire and into the brush. He found a nice and secluded spot, checking the area a few times over to make sure he was alone.

Just as he was finishing up, his ears caught wind of what sounded like a rustling in the brush. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Mal went on, pretending he wasn’t trying his hardest to listen as he turned back toward the bonfire. There it was again. It was faint, almost silent. That’s when he heard the laughter coming from more than just one person. Each noise was still faint, so Malakai knew he hadn’t been seen, but curiosity always got the best of him, so he followed the sound. Once close enough, he could faintly make out a few men through the dark, several yards ahead. He sunk down, pushing himself as tight against the nearest tree as possible. Something wasn’t right. Something definitely was not right. It looked as if they were watching something struggling on the ground. Mal sunk lower until he was laying flat on the ground as he crawled closer. Stealth was never his strong suit and he knew he could be seen at any minute by whoever they were.

The men were definitely not from the group; he could tell as soon as he got close enough. And the second his eyes adjusted to the dim light from the moon, he knew he’d been right all day. Blue eyes were glued on the patches that littered one of the soldiers uniforms. Every ounce of alcohol that was still inside of the male immediately evaporated, and he was all at once forced into sobriety. He stayed completely still. Of course he wanted to help, but being this far from the rest of the group.. He knew his chances of getting away alive. These men were obviously from sector one. They had weapons strapped to their sides, large muscles that swallowed their arms and neck, and it was almost impossible to miss the emblem that said so. His immediate reaction would have been to run in, knife out, yelling as he ran toward them to alert the others.. But with the looks of them, he knew he’d be dead in a heart beat. So, Mal pushed himself further against the earth, almost trying to become one with it, as he watched.

His eyes were fully focused on each of their faces, hatred and anger causing his heart to palpitate ferociously. Malakai almost feared them hearing his heartbeat, but it all stopped the second he saw them leave the clearing they were in, heading in the opposite direction. But what really caught his eyes was the body one of them had over their shoulder. Was that person dead? Who had they taken? Another surging wave passed through the male as he suddenly became angry with himself for not doing anything more to help, though he knew better. He waited a few more minutes, making sure they were gone before sliding out of his hiding spot carefully. Maybe there would be a clue as to what they wanted and who they’d taken with them. His eyes quickly scanned over the grass, knowing they could come back any second. If it had been any darker, his eyes would have missed it, but a small flash of light reflected off the edge of a wet blade.

Malakai quickly moved to it, picking it up off the ground so he could get a better look. As he eyes focused on the handle of the blade and the designs engraved into it, the anger inside him turned into much, much more than that. It was Addie’s. Her favorite knife that she’d had since he could remember. Rage engulfed the tall brunette, making rational thoughts completely impossible. All at once his hands were shaking, firsts curved into tight balls - the knife still in his hand. Mal’s chest tightened to the point he felt like it was going to pull itself open. A loud, jarring yell fell out of Malakai’s mouth. It wasn’t a mistake, and he knew it was dangerous to do so, with those soldiers still near by, but he didn’t care. He’d just lost another sister to them, and he was ready to die, right at that moment, fighting her killers.

The sound of rushing footsteps made him spin around so fast, he almost fell. A soldier was charging for him at full speed, their hands reaching down to pull out whatever weapon they had fastened to their hip. But Mal’s rage made him move faster than he ever had and before the soldier was able to say a word, he had used the same blade that Addison usually kept at arms reach to slice a deep line across their throat. He watched them drop to their knees, clutching their throat as blood painted the grass before them. A wide and crooked smile crossed Mal’s face as he leaned down, his lips hovering by their ear.

“I will kill every last one of you until my last breath if she is dead. I will not stop until Addison Norman is avenged.” The words were slow, crisp, and clear. Immediately after his last word, Mal pulled back the hand that still held that special blade and stabbed the soldier in the back of their shoulder. “And each time I kill them will be worse than the last. See you in hell, you utter piece of shit.” Malakai twisted the blade, knowing the soldier was most likely barely, if not already dead, able to feel what he was doing. He let the now lifeless body slump to the ground before pulling the blade from their back and paced in a circle around their body. An even stronger bout of rage kicked in and he didn’t hesitate. He chose to sit on the back of their hips and repeatedly dive the knife into the corpse that lay on the ground, stabbing at them until his arms were too weak to continue, the knife still pushed deep into the middle of his victim’s back.

The past hour or so she remained to herself, avoiding everyone. People in their drunken states with their drunken minds, thoughts and words made the girl feel like her skin was crawling. Though they laughed, danced, and sung loudly, she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. While they did everything and said anything on a whim, the blonde spent such a long time thinking before speaking, making sure everyone around her would be pleased with her answer. She never wanted to offend anyone, always tried so hard to make everyone around her so happy. It was going to be the death of her, she was sure of it, but she couldn’t stop. And while she did enjoy seeing smiles and hearing their laughter, the loudness and amount of people around her at once caused her heart to race faster. She wasn’t used to it - she could never get used to it. Growing up in a household with three other people made it so hard for her to get used to being around about thirty. 

Sighing, she turned back, looking at the crowd of people with her brows furrowed. The sound of their laughed hushed, and the joy in their face quickly changed to terror. Her eyes widened and she hesitantly got up from where she sat, just outside the camp grounds, and carefully walked towards everyone. Their murmurs and cries get louder, she’s sure some people have gone mad. It looked like mass hysteria quickly washed over the camp filled with thirty people. She still didn’t understand why people were screaming or crying and she’s too afraid to ask someone. But as she kept walking through the crowd of people, she was able to quickly connect their words and phrases. Her heart dropped to her feet and her stomach tied in knots, the names she heard leaving people’s lips quickly making her head spin.

“Scarlet.”

“Addison.”

“Gone.”

And the names continue along with some other phrases she was able to catch before stumbling back and quickly getting away from the group. The blonde walked aimlessly. Her frame slightly trembling, but she continues to walk, ignoring any signs of her body giving up on her. She knew herself -- she knew she would never be able to last this situation with a smile on her face had she stayed. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea, especially not after five people in her group had just been taken - but she didn’t think about that. Ironically, she never thought about that - about herself and her health. She spent so much repeatedly asking if everyone else was okay, but spent such little time on herself. And while everyone spent so much time trying to protect the petite blonde, the only person bringing arm her direction was herself. There was no doubt about the fact she was prone to get injured, especially with her thoughts all over the place and the fact she was being extremely careless.

It felt like the past was tapping her on the shoulder, ready to replay itself. The only difference between the past and what was currently happening was that she witnessed the deaths of her loved ones. She saw as bullets went through their heads - she remembers almost missing it - at the velocity it went at, it would have been so easy to miss with just a blink. But she saw it, her eyes wide open. She watched as a spear went through her brother, the tip coming out from his chest. She heard as he gasped loudly, saw his jaw and eyes wide open. She saw the blood spewing out of his mouth and running down his nose. She remembers how it was everywhere. How all she wanted at that moment was to give up. Her heart raced so quickly, and she knew she was going to be next. But she wasn’t. He spoke up, his last words hardly a whisper but she heard - no HEARS them, ringing in her head, over and over and over again. The source of white noise and terror. She saw it all, and not just that day, but in her dreams and every time she shut her eyes. She saw it all replay every single day, causing disruption to her sleep, her eat, her habits and everything in between. She didn’t want to think of her friends dead, but if the two strongest people she knew managed to get taken at one time, she didn’t know what else to think.

She felt so selfish, thinking about herself in this situation. Already losing her biological family, she couldn’t handle losing more people in her life. She was already too lost, too fragile, too weak. And every time she tried to think something positive about this situation, her mind goes back to the original source, the real reason she ended up here, because she lost everyone she loved causing her - only making her thoughts more negative by minute. It was so out of character for her, she always thought about the good things, always trying to make the weight of the pros much larger than the weight of the cons. But these are the lives of the people she loves, and the cons kept weighing up causing her breath to be heavy and her feelings all over the place. 

Her gaze fixed on the ground as she walked. The moonlight ejecting enough light to make it easier for the girl to continue to continue without injuring herself - and enough light to reflect off of something silver with a golden gear. She felt like she should have known what it was. The part of the silver that didn’t have dirt over it looked so similar it make her feel queazy. A lump growing in her throat, she drags her nails along her collarbones uneasily. She stared just for a moment, unsure of what to do. Though she never wanted to push her boundaries with other people’s things, however something that looked that valuable didn’t look like something someone would have purposely left under some dirt. 

Bending down, her body shook harder, but she kept ignoring it. She picked up the silver, furrowing her brows when she saw it was wide open. Holding it with both her hands, she whipped off the dirt on each side so carefully, trying to avoid potentially breaking the locket as she didn’t know how strong it was. As her thumb caressed the inside of the locket, she exhaled shakily. So gently her index finger ghosted over the engraved date written in it, reading and rereading it. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was a death and birth date, if not two birth dates with a fair gap in between. Closing the locket quickly, she turned it around and whipped the dirt off the outside. As she continued to get the dirt off of it, the more clearer the shape, colours and design of the locket became causing her to stop. Her lips slightly parted when she realised who it belong to. Tightly shutting her eyes, she inhaled deeply. Her thoughts immediately going from the locket and back to the five. 

And the moment her thoughts drifted back to the five, it felt like Earth’s gravitational pull was just about as much as Jupiter’s - if not stronger - as her knees finally give up on her, causing her to fall. Her back was facing the group of people, her legs tucked into her chest and her arms wrapped around her head that rested on her knees. Choking out a sob, she shut her eyes even tighter if possible, trying to avoid the inevitable tears. The blonde was so unsure of why it was now, after she stared at a locket when she broke into sobs. Perhaps it was then when it actually hit her: the five were indeed gone. Before that all she tried to do was think it wasn’t real. Before that, she never actually witnessed it happen in front of her own eyes, so it could have possibly been just a lie, right? She tried to make herself feel better by creating multiple scenarios of how everything will be alright. However, the locket being off of his neck made her realise it was real. They were gone and no one knew where they had been taken to. Or perhaps it was when she realised that there was more than just good in the world. She was so naive and had a need to see the good in everything, in everyone. She could have been put in a position where her life was on the line and she would still see the good. 

It has been early when Natalia left the party. She had been having fun initially, but as more and more people got drunk she simply couldn’t stand to be there any longer. The rational voice in the back of her mind was screaming. What are we doing? Why are we all sitting around partying like everything’s alright even though we know that couldn’t be farther from the truth? She knew that with enough whiskey she easily could have shut that voice up, but despite that Natalia couldn’t bring herself to get more than tipsy. The whole situation just felt too wrong.

Deciding she just needed air, that constantly breathing in smoke was doing her good Natalia snuck away from the group, specifically making sure that Roman wasn’t paying attention before she disappeared. At first she had really only intended to walk the perimeter of the camp. It was far enough that she could get some quiet, but no one could really yell at her for wandering off. That plan didn’t last long. The more she wandered the more she wanted to get away, and the farther she allowed herself to walk. She quickly lost track of time. It wasn’t like she was lost in thought, she was just enjoying the feeling of quiet, both on the outside and in her head. Natalia knew she should turn back, kept reminding herself of that, but ultimately, knowing that she could still see the dim light of the bonfire, and knowing she could find her way back to camp at any time, kept her moving away.

Eventually it was weariness that convinced her to turn around. She didn’t know how far she had walked, and didn’t know how long it took her to walk back. She did vaguely remember hearing some small yells, as well as a group of people rushing past her. Natalia had froze when it happened, presuming it was a group of drunk people from camp that she didn’t want to deal with, and they passed quickly, clearly having a destination in mind, and not taking their time to get there.

She couldn’t place the exact moment she noticed something was wrong. Maybe it was when the fire looked bigger than she remembered. Maybe it was when the screams started to sound more of distress rather than drunk fun, What she did know is that by the time she had made the connection it was too late. She had walked into the clearing where the bonfire was being held and saw the blood, heard the screaming, but the fight had already passed.

Anger wasn’t strong enough to explain how Natalia felt right now. Even enraged or infuriated didn’t feel right. The worst part of it was most of her fury was dictated at herself. It felt like she was reliving what had happened to her in the sectors. Of course the details were different, but she was the same. She hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen what was going on, and in the end someone else got hurt because she could never be enough. First there was her brother. Somehow Natalia had been so blind that she couldn see him planning a rebellion right under her nose. So fucking blind that the government had realized what was going on before she did. And now? She had wandered away, so oblivious that she couldn’t realize an attack was occurring until she was standing right in the middle of the aftermath. Who would her ignorance hurt next? Would she never learn?

Five seconds. It was a small moment of weakness. Such a small moment with a bigger meaning and if Astrid could take it back, she would one hundred times over again. If she had known her last moments with Cyrus would be just that, she would have told him everything that she’d been holding on to. God did she ever want to tell him that when he held her hand in comfort it felt like the home she had been searching for, the home she was waiting for. Now she had sunk to her knees, her arms beat and bruised, covered in blood that was not her own and she was overcome by a feeling she tried to forget. 

The officials had come in so fast if she would have blinked, she would have missed it. Laying on her bearskin blanket, Astrid’s head perked up at the sound coming from within the trees. Everyone around her had spirits in their hands and their minds intoxicated with soothing liquid to forget what they were really running from, or what they were fighting for. She however opted out, needing a clear mind for the day that was ahead of them. 

Yet the more she watched other people around her having fun, the more she wanted to at least try it. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad after all. Astrid fought her urges for so long, refusing to let herself feel her happiness, the things she wanted was something she couldn’t afford to take right now. Just as the thought crossed her mind, a bottle was dropped in front of her and she glanced up, an unfamiliar face egging her on to take a small sip. She had looked at Cyrus, who sat next to her right now, searching for some sort of acceptance to do so. Instead she got a peaceful smile, one that brought comfort to her. Naturally after refusing half a hundred times, Astrid caved and brought the open bottle to her lips. The liquid went down and a burning sensation followed. She scrunched her face up, throwing the bottle away from her. 

“I can’t believe out of everything you guys can have to drink, you choose this lousy shit that tastes like piss--” She was cut short by a shriek, the same noise she had heard before, causing Astrid to shoot up from where she was sitting. She grabbed the sword that she recovered from the rebel hide out when she went with Jay earlier today and swung without missing a beat. Her blade hit the white armour of the official that stood before her with a loud clang-- and that’s all it did. He wasn’t winded, wasn’t harmed in any way at all in fact, and was now approaching her faster than she would have liked. 

Panic was one thing she thought, but immediately remembered the training she had received from Paul. Her instincts kicked in and she brought the sword back up in front of her to take another swing. She successfully hit a joint between the armour plates, causing blood to spew from the open wound and Astrid got a fair amount on her sleeves. Kicking the official to the ground with force only adrenaline could supply, Astrid began to run towards the screams, her sword swinging violently and yet with such precision that was aimed to hurt, not kill.

This was it. All the hard work that her parents put together to escape, all of it was for nothing. This group had been on the move for years, always keeping one step ahead of the dangers that they faced while outside the walls. Astrid had been told and told again that outside the sectors was much better than being in them. But she watched her friends get slaughtered by men in white, and now she wasn’t sure. All her life she had thought about the inside, what it would have been like to live there. Of course going back would have meant being captured and stuck into tight quartered cages to be poked at and tortured. Her mind went to a dark place, causing her to push harder and fight rougher. Astrid couldn’t risk losing people to these monsters. The true threats right now were mankind, as mankind had always been destroying everything they touch. 

Astrid saw blonde hair float by her in the midst of the heated battle. She stopped, turning her body with him. She saw people she had traveled with for years getting tossed aside, handcuffs slapping together on their wrists. Her mouth fell open, hoping for a sound, any sound, to come out. Astrid needed a distraction, so her eyes searched the crowd. The more metal cuffs she saw coming out made her heart race faster. 

One. Two. Three. Four. 

Roman. Scarlet. Darya. Addie.

Her head was pounding harder, causing her blood to course through her body at a faster rate. The world around her was spinning quickly, so much so that Astrid had to drop her sword onto the dirt ground. Finally she settled on the face she was searching for. 

Five. 

Cyrus. 

The face that she had needed to wake her from her paralyzed state. Pushing off with her feet, Astrid ran to him. She hoped to catch him, hold him close and take him far away from here. She needed Cyrus to keep her sane, to keep her safe and free of harm. But the closer she got, the more he would back away. Watching the panic form on his face -- the one she called home -- his lips mouthed words that she couldn’t hear. Not at first. They became clear enough and Astrid recognized it as her name. The noise around her was filtered out by his shrieks of terror before Astrid realized what was happening. The fifth pair of cuffs wrapped around his wrists like chains and it took only seconds before she lost sight of him completely. Astrid was positive she heard her heart snap, the rage she had pent up inside of her from this attack blowing up over the top of her pot. 

She screamed. 

It was the thing that released her anger, however watching the one person she cared most about in this god awful world being torn away from her kept refilling her steam. She didn’t need a sword anymore. Balling her fists up tightly she swung, blinded by tears and rage Astrid held no aim but was satisfied with every crunch she heard. She felt a pair of arms restrain her from doing any more damage to the group, having not noticed that the officials had gone. 

She sunk her head into her hands, her whole body shook with tremors from the tears that fell freely now. Astrid didn’t cry often, but when she did anger was soon to follow. If anything, she was desperate to get those five seconds back so she could save his life. It was their thing, it was a routine that she followed and with the cycle broken she was lost. Astrid had let him down for the first and last time. 

The whole camp was surrounding the fire checking for wounds and screaming for the medics attention. All Astrid wanted to do was tell them to shut up. Everything had been stolen from them and they only cared for themselves. Astrid shook her head, her body vibrating from the now falling tears escaping her eyelids, rolling down her cheeks. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she rose up like a phoenix from its ashes, if Cyrus hadn’t just got kidnapped she would have laughed because she had a fire behind her, only adding to her metaphor. Astrid picked up her heavy sword, running her hand across the blade where she had engraved Cyrus’ full name on the side. 

“I’m going to get you back. I’m going to get you all back.” She mumbled through clenched teeth.

the wasteland is in flames.

the camp’s bonfire is dying out, but the horizon burns with a damned, bloody red. this is not a celebration; this is a war zone.

mind drifting unconscious, cricket dreams that she has been eaten alive.

bone for bone, muscle for muscle. there is nothing of her left, save for the smell of flowers left under cool rain to rot. she floats, feeling as though she had left her limbs in a pretty coffin for a pretty girl, and instead she is a graveyard nymph; a flower-girl for death, dangling pretty and foolish and dead in the trees.

she can feel a ghost in her chest, but she is the one haunting this body. its legs are her legs, its claws her hands, its teeth her own. she feels its muscles tense and coil in her back, raising bumps along her spine. she is a horrid, hideous thing, bleeding ichor and poison; the ghost gnaws at the viscera and marrow of her.

          alas, it is just a dream - the reality is far less pleasant.

cricket’s head is pounding. dull at first, beginning as a gentle prickling, as though millions of invisible, glass needles are digging into her skin, piercing vein, muscle, sinew, nerve.

she slowly becomes conscious as the sensation escalates with every pale, reviving sense, until is is a mounting wave of blistering agony, poised to fall. and it does; this swell of torture falls the instant she opens her bruised and bloodshot eyes.

(she is dancing barefoot by the fire when they come. in seconds, her hands are firm on her crossbow, knuckles white as she tries to fend off the attackers. government officials; she stands atop a tree stump firing bolt after bolt, arrow after arrow, until something knocks her on the back of her head and she falls. the world grows quiet around her.)

the campfire has been reduced to ash, black and dusty, scattered and coughed up from inside her lungs. she cannot remember much, but she can remember bits of pieces. flashes of horror, of fighting, of tooth and nail, of blood and blood and blood.

their camp is cast into chaos: their sanctuary has become a battlefield. where minutes ago there had been joviality, now there is only fire and fear. she is knocked out for no more than a handful of moments toward the end of the devastatingly quick fight, but in that time, the officials clear out; the group is beaten and battered; the five are taken; the fire dies.

she feels as though she is being cleaved from darkness and shadow; her shivering body - once knitted from the skirts of the moon, dusted with the constellations trembling through the sky - is empty. inside her, a grave. she feels it rolling in her stomach when she sleeps, hears the whine of its hinges throw open as she wakes and refuses to stay down.

cricket reaches over in the space around her for something solid, something to wrap her restless, angered fingers around. she finds a body in the darkness, a corpse or an unconscious form, she can’t tell; still like a felled oak, solid and cold and unmoving.

she curves her spine and pushes off the plane of the person’s chest, spitting out a mouthful of blood on the ground; as though it could get rid of the dark tendrils wrapping tight around her mind, as though it could remind her that she was both alive and breathing, as though it would make her think she was still unbreakable.

(she is not. she is not the wolf she has built herself to be; not the witch she’s grown into. she is but a lost, wandering little red, her cape thrown to the fire and her braids coming undone and ragged against the soil, and here, the ground will devour her.)

she trembles as she stands, knees buckling beneath her, eyes trying to focus on the scene before her.

        within minutes, she hears the story: of the few who had been           snatched up by the officials, taken back to the cages inside.

cricket has not been with the group long; she barely knows the faces of the names who were taken. she should run, now, from this cursed group, because she should be afraid of the consequences to come.

she should be afraid, perhaps: ambushed at camp, a celebration having morphed into battle, haplessly caught on one side of a war with the tyrannical sectors. but she is cricket, and the forest swells with the rise and fall of her ribs: the velvet of a crow’s wing brushes across the flesh of her lung, its lithe little body flitting in her throat, pressing the throb of its chest against her pulse.

she should be afraid, but instead, her skin starts to buzz like live electricity, angered at the injustice of the attack - angered at the audacity of it. she bites her lip, splitting open a wound, her dark eyes hot with spirit.

          how dare they attack her?                how dare they. how dare they!

(about time i had some fun, anyway, she thinks, wiping the blood from her lip; she stands firm in her vote to go after what has been taken from them.)

Scarlet had heard Roman when he told them to stop adding wood, but that only made her want to add more. She continuously added more twigs and logs, poking it with a piece of metal someone had left on the group to make sparks fly, sometimes burning people near her and making them yell at her. She would look at them and smile, apologize and not mean it. It should be known that Scarlet loved sparks from the fire. If there was a fire, she was going to poke it and make it bigger. Scarlet was quickly running out of wood and was trying to barter with someone nearby about them going to get more, but they wouldn’t budge. Well, fuck them. She let out a long, loud sigh and shot daggers in the persons direction before standing up to go grab more fire. The bigger the fire, the better. If it annoyed Roman more, well, who could blame her for having fun.

She had left her things at camp, only taking her flashlight and knives with her as she ventured into the forest further. She would need all the hands she could get to carry the wood back with her. She held out one knife in front of her, the other hand holding the flashlight to view any potential threats as she entered into a new clearing they hadn’t yet covered when getting wood earlier that day. The spotted some twigs up ahead and put her knife back into her boot, picking them up. A twig to her left cracked, but it must have been an animal because when she turned no one was there. Weird, okay, she thought as she continued. Maybe going alone was a really dumb idea. She could handle her knives well enough, but to make the fire the grander she wanted she would need more than what she could carry.

She was passing by a small pond when the sound of consecutive branches snapping. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Her flashlight dropped, her knives on her body were all taken out and into her hands in a flash. The cracked all around her, coming from every side. “Whoever it is, go the fuck away. I’m just trying to build a fire.” Maybe they would be nice. 

When a foot slammed into the back of her knees, she decided they were not nice. She rolled over, swinging her knife in the general direction of where they were, hoping it would land somewhere on their body. It didn’t. A foot slammed down on her stomach, causing her to lose her breath and convulse, gasping for air. She curled into a ball, blocking any more hits. “Who the fuck are you?” She whispered, loud enough for them to hear. She heard them move around her, and she braced herself for another hit. It didn’t come right away, not until she was sure nothing else would happen. A dark body appeared in the shadows of the light from the flashlight. His hand reached for her arm, but she flinched away, only to end up pressed against another mans legs. She shook her head, repeating the words no over and over again. “You can’t do this. My group will know I’m gone.” She hoped to bargain her way out of this. If anything, she wasn’t going easy. She toyed with the knife pressed under her shirt, hoping to get a shot when one of them picked her up. 

The moment came a few seconds later, when the man got a grip on her arm and pulled her up. Her left arm flew out and her knife landed in his upper arm, causing him to let her go, but the man behind her was restraining her in seconds. She tried to kick back, but he was a thick as a brick wall. “Come on, can’t we all play nice?” Scarlet spit out, still trying to kick the man. A fist came from the left, then the right, hitting her in the face repeatedly until she was losing conscious. She felt them move, throwing her over their shoulder as they went. Scarlet wasn’t sure where she might end up until she smelt the fire again, but her mind was too foggy to register the shouts and scream surrounding her now. She was back at the fire, so everything was going to be okay. The man would put her down and she would wake up, maybe cuddle Artemis a little and have a snack while telling stupid jokes. Everything would be okay when she woke up in the morning.