Young Blood :: [Denali + Bette]

When she was fourteen the running began, first with the crumble of a rooftop and now - with the shattered future that may lie ahead. It's always helped ground her, stabilize her footing as she commits to leaping over the low wall leading to the obstacle course.

She waves through the structures with a finesse - her first few runs were shaky, and on the first day she smacked her kneecap hard enough to leave a bruise - today it's elegant. She shifts her weight, a flip landing her onto the ground with a contrasting thump. Softer. Next time.

And just like that, she's done. It's a pity that it isn't long enough - the gymnastics equipment is set up in the far corner, an art form so pristine that it must have no place here, where all you need is your feet and enough faith to push through. She breathes, takes a sip of water, and starts jogging again, looking for a better vantage point.

There, a precipice - up on the rafters with a stairwell to boot. So she strides then sprints as a Lyon creates her pathway, the last remnants of a knife slamming into the wall before she jumps off of a well-placed trampoline, landing quickly on the hilt. She leaps off as her weight compensates, the knife ripping back out of the wall and dropping to the ground as she soars towards the next. And the next, and the next. Grabbing the ledge with two hands, she pulls herself upwards - slow but steady, arm muscles straining. After another five seconds, Bette finally leverages enough weight to hoist her elbow on top, then two then half a body then her whole frame, lounging.

Everything else in her life has always counted on someone else. Here, it's all her.

Well, not quite. She looks down at the Lyon, and gives her a tiny wave. "Hey."