Tying Up Loose Ends [Sage & Salome]

At night you’ve dreamt of home. Big, rolling hills are dotted with trees, fields of tumbling grain, and long dirt roads that lead to old farmhouses. Just because it’s in your head doesn’t make it any less real, though waking up each morning to the din of life in the training center has you more on edge each day. The taste of coffee makes life easier, though all the distractions haven’t dulled the thought that you’ve fallen farther and farther behind when it comes to finding ways to defend yourself. If you weren’t so distracted, perhaps training would be better—yet you can’t help but watching everyone else fitting into their roles while you still figure out why you’re standing here. It’s what you chose, is it not?

Today you sit mending ropes together. There is value to knowing traps—they’re both protective and dangerous; they can be lethal or only meant to hold an enemy in place. You opt for the less deadly, and rather want to know how to keep a person hanging in place. You brush back a tumble of curls in front of your face, and read over the different type of knots. This was the sort of work you had seen done before—tying bits together so you could pull up heavy walls for a barn, or bundling up hay together. There’s calm in a routine of measuring out the length of twine, curling it over and under, and making sure the knot is strong. You were struck by an idea from your youth, one that you hope to put into action in front of the game makers.

There were days at the old watering hole where you and your cousins would dive over the edge, jumping to catch part of a rope. You can still feel the old rope between your fingers, the fresh air streaming past your face. All of you would come tumbling down with a crash into the water. Memories of a childhood that ended long before these games; how strange and distant all of them seem to be. You measure out another strand of rope. There was no predicting where your world would go next, only that you had to be prepared.

“Do you mind passing me more rope? I’m not sure if this will be enough to carry what I need…” You lazily turn to the other standing near you. Having given up on trying to learn anyone’s name—there were simply too many, you were too tired, and no one ever seemed to know you—you gave a smile. It was the least (and only) thing you could offer.