Blood stained hands (cor/day 6)

My back ached, each step caused it to cry out in complaint, but we had decided to make camp at the edge of the Forrest, a few meters back from the river. I was desperate to clean some off some of the blood that stiffened my clothes, that was caught under my nails and the creases of the skin that was pulled across my fingers. I smelt of iron and blood and sweat and it was fucking foul.

By the tree line I slip off my pack, my hand resting defensively in the hilt of my sword as I sneak down to the waters edge. I was exhausted, but I would not hesitate for a moment , and would strike down any shadow that wasn’t Cachi. Though that was a thought I had to terminate, I couldn’t protect him for much longer. It would only be a matter of time before the game makers forced our separation, much like the day before. Only this time I believed it would be permanent, and that the next time we meet there would be a requirement for one death. 

His death. 

A breathy sigh escapes my lips, my attention slipping from Cachi, focussing on removing each speak of dirt that stained my hands.


[uses endurance]