frostbite - xov, day 4

“Marcus, I’m sorry.”

Xov felt the wind move through her like there was nothing there.

He was gone. Bled out in a heap on the ground. In the pair of overalls she gave him yesterday.

They had to leave, but the image was burned into her mind. The blood still seeping from his wounds to melt the ice, all around him the snow retreating solemnly in a Marcus-shaped border, stealing the last of his warmth.

He had died for them.

All her pleas for him to save himself had been useless. It was a weight on top of everything else she carried, as if each breath she would take now was a precious thing he had paid for, standing there defiant—stubborn—as the the three others attacked like wolves. She wouldn’t have lived if he hadn’t.

Now Juno was barely hanging on. Thread and bandages could help, but stitches came out easily, and wounds needed time to heal, when there was no telling how much time they had left. She was terrified of losing him too.

Some distance passed, a few steps or maybe a mile. One sob burst from her chest, then another, then more, until the air felt scarce and all she could think to do was squat on the ground and pull her knees in close until it went away, hoping nobody found them while she was making so much noise and felt so small.

Gus appeared again, nuzzled his warm woolen forehead into her elbow. He had brought her a bundle of plants in his mouth, something she could actually use to salve her wounds. It only made her cry more. Everyone was taking care of her, and she felt incapable of taking care of anyone in return.

Better me than her, Marcus had said. But what had he seen in her worth saving? All she had to offer was a handful of stories. A string on his wrist to keep his soul on. Though the roots of her integrity ran deep, it did nothing to keep him alive.

Her thoughts lingered on the strings she had tied on both Gunner and Marcus’s wrists. In the end, they had seemed like themselves. Not emptied. So maybe she had helped them with one thing.

Such small rituals felt insignificant here, so far from her family, but maybe they were what made her different. She still held onto the hope that her ancestors were watching, guiding her steps. Although she wished they would help and guide a little more.

It felt like a long time since she had prayed. She had nothing to offer, no incense to carry her words back home. Still, she began in a whisper. 

“Ancestors. I know this isn’t the way we go about things. But please help Marcus’s spirit find its way home.”

She only knew a few directions, but she thought she might be the only person who could--or would--give them. At least she knew enough of his whereabouts to lead his spirit backwards out of the arena. She owed that much to him, to not be stranded in this place. Xov cleared her throat and spoke louder.

”Please. Take his hand and lead him back to the mines, where we ran through the falling debris. Back through the snowstorm to the place where we made camp and he slept outside my tent. Through the woods, where we saw the burned circle and he fell into a tripwire trap. Lead him back to the cabin in the center of the arena with the animal heads on the walls, where he found me and Juno outside, and asked if he could be with us. Lead him back up into the training center. To the weights station. To the District Eleven suite where he was staying.”

From there, the memory got fuzzy. She was stuck on that first picture she had of him, the easy smile on his face when she said hello in the training room as he pulled himself up on the weight bench. Tears welled in her eyes as she pictured Marcus’s spirit stalling in that place, unsure of where to go next. She had to keep trying.

“From this point it will be a long journey, but please stay with him. You’ll have to take him on the train, all the way from the center of the country to the southeast. When he gets off the train, lead him back through the Justice Center, and the District Square.”

That was it. That was all she could picture. What else could she remember about him? Xov racked her brain, thought about his interview with Caesar Flickerman, landed on a few more things.

”In the District, take him to the place where he helped feed all those hungry people. And lead him back to where he met his girlfriend. I think he called her...T?“

Crumbs. That was what she had left for directions. To call the dead home, one needed to know everywhere they had been, all the way back to where they were born. It wouldn’t be enough.

”I’m so sorry,” she said, the lump in her throat as painful as her wounds. ”That’s all I know. Please try to get him home safe.”

With the adrenaline wearing off, her body felt so weary she thought she might fall asleep right there, despite the cold. Tempting as it was to let the endless winter take her too, she willed herself to keep moving.

For whatever reason in that stubborn head of his, Marcus had made sure she would see the next morning. Her life wasn’t just hers to waste anymore. She carried him too.

”Wait. Tell him I said thank you.”