far as the eye can see [day 1, ugg]

Her lungs are on fire.

Hand clenched tight around the fabric of Oberon's cloak, Kahinta is pulling him forward at a dead sprint, her feet slipping every so often against the grass as she curves them around and between gravestones. Her eyes can hardly keep up with her feet, even as she tries to keep herself facing forward instead of looking back to where they'd come from, back to where she'd left probably any and every resource that would do her any good because she couldn't pull herself into the thick of it quickly enough.

"Shit," she hisses, the noise caught between her teeth as she tries to regulate the sudden uptick of her heart, the momentary gasp she involuntarily takes at the sound. One down. She doesn't intend to be next, and the more distance she can put between her weaponless self and the Cornucopia, the better. "Come on, come on Oberon!"

They run.

Kahinta doesn't know how long it is that they go, alternating between running and making themselves hard to spot as possible in a relatively flat arena with little to no cover. After years of sliding between buildings and hiding in basements, having no place to hole up and wait for her heart to settle is difficult. She'd tried to lead them in the direction she'd seen Daemon take off towards, but she's never been a great tracker, and no amount of looking at the grass is making it easier.

Tugging Oberon over towards a few gravestones clustered closer together, she ducks down a little to get what cover she can, yanking on his cloak in turn. "Look, I know we said we were with Daemon, but he took off right toward the start and if we can't find him out here, I-

"-inta!"

Her heart seizes, a spasm at the strained whispered call, and Kahinta whips her head around toward the noise in the distance to see Daemon creeping closer. Pulling at Oberon's cloak again, she moves them over and waves a hand for Daemon to turn around and head back out and away from the center of the Arena.

"Go! Talk later, go now before-"

Boom!

"Go!"

Forward is the only option, even as she notices the glint of what looks like mirrored ground in the distance. She doesn't trust it, but she doesn't want to waste any more time before they're able to take stock of what their injuries are, what they've managed to gather, and what they need. The ground starts to give way from green grass and soft earth to the slide of dark red sand, stretching as far out as she can see in any direction, directly into the red of the water that glints, dark and dangerous before them.

There's not much cover here either.

A small dune, just enough for them to sit behind and hope no one walks along the length of the beach to see them, is about all the Gamemakers have given them to work with. Kahinta finally unclenches her hand from Oberon's arm, her fingers aching at having held on so tightly for the duration. It's an ache she's sure she'll become accustomed to, holding all too tight to something in the hopes that it will stay, that it will keep her safe. For now, that's Oberon and Daemon, which means she needs them healthy as they can manage. Her eyes scan quickly over the both of them, but it's Daemon that gives her the most pause.

"Ripred, are they both broken? How did you manage to break both of your fucking wrists?"