things with wings // night brigade, day four.

For all intents and purposes, Andrew Priest knew that- statistically- at least one of the three of the should have been dead by now. Alliances never remained whole for long in the games, either because someone died or because no one did. He wasn't a fan of any arena he'd ever seen, he hadn't trained for this contest a day of his life, and he'd only ever watched footage of the games when he was mandated to do so, but even he knew that. It was the very reason they were called allies in the first place- it was temporary. A relationship to exist so long as both parties were benefitting equally and not a second longer. A way to feel protected and to preserve yourself for longer, while remaining guiltless of what it might mean you have to do later.

He got chills down his spine, standing next to the fireplace 'on watch' at even the mere repercussions of his own thoughts. It was hours before sunrise: last watch, the opportunity to watch the world trying so desperately to kill them yawn itself awake. To his right, Carly slept in a neat line, her hands folded over her chest, her hair brushed neatly over one shoulder, her chest rising and falling in precise, rhythmic beats. To his left, Tune curled in on herself, one hand resting on the hilt of her glaive, utterly silent even in sleep. Such different creatures, each perfectly capable of survival. A clever mind on one, a golden heart on the other and stupid, inconsequential Andrew somehow wedged between them. He was big, sure, and handsome. Perhaps his greatest strength was his proximity to the two of them, though. He was glad they were all still here. He fucked up twice, because there was no way he could've done what was necessary to either of them if he were asked. Otherwise, he would have already.

Why not? It was the perfect opportunity, now, while they both slept. He had their trust. He had the weapons. They wouldn't even feel a thing. All he felt when he tried to force the way of thinking was nauseous. Like it mattered anyway. If either of them had proven anything since the Games started its that they both had better chances of living through this than he did. Carly practically informed the entire arena that they had to give her the wealth, and then they all agreed to it. Tune just skewered the strongest career in the Games through the chest like it was her job yesterday... Andrew had simply gotten lucky enough to not die so far. So if killing wasn't an option, and leaving meant his own death, then, what?

The dragon at his feet seemed to sense his discomfort, waking from her slumber and peering up at his with big, sky blue eyes. Little thing still needed a name, but he swore she was actively trying to show her disinterest every time he suggested a new one to her.

"Ruth?" He tried. She snorted, shaking her head and lying back down.

"Noted."

He sat there petting her for the majority of his watch, eyes flitting between the flames in the hearth and the girls and the dragon. When his back started hurting or his legs went numb, he'd do a quick perimeter of the tavern just to be safe. Nothing for a whole watch- at least three or four hours. One his last walk around, the sun was starting to rise and everything was bathed in an eerie blue-gray.

He could hear the water trickling down the river just out of eyeshot, and there were already several bugs fluttering about the various flowerbeds. He was in the process of admiring the parting of the grass as wind swept through it when he got the distinctive feeling that someone- or perhaps something was watching him. He turned and faced the treeline, head tilted back toward the sky so that he could follow the trunks al the way up to the top. He'd walked through enough of it and heard enough sounds to know there were some crazy things in there. He remembered the pulverized deer carcass, those lizards that'd descended upon them from the trees, but standing there, he saw nothing. Heard nothing. Even still, by the time he made it back to the entrance, Andrew was certain something was following him.

Upon reentry, he found Tune sitting upright, still wrapped up in a blanket. Instantly, the feeling that he was being followed, or watched, or whatever vanished. Maybe he'd just noticed how alone he was outside, how dangerous that was. He convinced himself that actually, it was fine now that he was back inside and Tune was awake and Carly would be soon. So he took his seat next to her, and continued the morning as was normal.

---

"What?"

This to Tune an hour later, her head suddenly snapping up toward the ceiling like she heard something. He stood next to Carly, both of them squinting to find what it was Tune was seeing. But then he realized it wasn't what she saw. It was what she heard. It was a thud, something being tipped over onto the floor this time.

"What the fuck was that?!"

He stood vacant for a second, wheels in his brain trying to process the possibilities. It was possibly just a painting that fell off the wall. It was possibly the house settling. Maybe the wind closed an open door.

"Maybe it's the slimeball guy?"

Another thud, this one louder even still. Distinctively, he could hear glass shattering.

"Was that a window?"

It was only now that Andrew realized that earlier, when he'd felt watched, he had assumed entirely that the eyes must've been somewhere within the wall of massive trees and foliage surrounding the place. Not once had his stupid, tactless, idiotic self thought to turn and look at the windows upstairs. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Speaking of windows, the one he'd broken with a rabbit statue on that first day was still broken. It was wide open, a mouth yawning awake with the silvery rise of day. And through it, to their horrified findings, a creature seemed to be crawling.

"What the hell?"

For the most part, it looked like a giant lion, complete with the teeth and claws, but it also had a huge set of feathered wings jutting out of its back, and it was the size of a fucking horse.

Tune, as was her style, charged in on instinct, shoving the blade of her glaive right into its eye. It screeched in pain, writhing around with its wings flapping maniacally and knocking more glass from the windows. It lurched backward, further outside now than inside. Good. They needed to keep it that way. Andrew hustled up next to Tune, his axe pulled out, in hopes of helping her shove the thing out before it got all the way in.

"Carly! Help us get it out! Quick!"

<sup>"Don't stop!"

He swung again, glimpsing its chest with his axe as Tune delivered another harsh blow to its face. It fell back further out of the tavern that they were currently all standing in, and Andrew saw his moment to push it out for good. Carly took a swing at it, causing it to rear up again, and in that moment Andrew ducked his shoulder and bolted forward, connected squarely in the chest with the creature, and went tumbling out into the yard with it.

He crash-landed in a mass of shards of broken glass next to the creature, and it was only then that he realized how very close to it he actually was. How dangerous a situation he'd put himself in. How powerful it clearly was even now, after all the hits from them it had taken. He was afraid of this creature- he only just now allowed himself the wisdom to realize it. Fuck. Another reckless decision made by someone who thinks himself clever. He hadn't considered his own wellbeing, but he'd considered theirs.

He felt a sense of dread filling within him. Bad things were coming, he could sense them. He waited for the right moment to make his move and stand, but he could feel the dread weighing on him like a blanket, forcing him to trip over his feet as he stood, clouding his thoughts for just enough time that the sphinx had the chance to get to him, if it so wanted.

And by the look of it, it wanted.</sup>

<sup>The inevitable was a mouth of sharp teeth. The beast loomed over him as he tried to stand, digging into him like a meal. Andrew felt the exact instance when the pressure ceased to be only just, when the canines pierced the skin of his shoulder and dug deeper still into the muscle tissue beneath. He wailed in pain as he was lifted the rest of the way up and tossed away, nothing, inconsequential to something so large and so hungry and so angry.

He landed in a heap, his strong arm rendered useless at his side while Carly and Tune worked to keep him from being continuously mauled. There wasn't much blood at first, or maybe that most of it was running down his back instead of his front made it feel less significant, but he knew stopping the bleeding was dire- in situations like these, far too many people let the injuries they already had add up on top of the new ones. He'd grown up on an orchard so he knew that, in the end, what mattered was the product yield, not which person's fruit looked the prettiest. Remain. Survive. Push forward.

He lifted his axe with his off-hand, lumbering over to his allies as quickly as he could. He still had working limbs, so he still had to fight.</sup>