| survival of the fittest | cato/hammerfell

Her fingers clung to the thin branch, wrapping themselves around its thin limb. In comparison to her own arm it look weak and  feeble, pathetic if being honest. But with a grunt she hauled herself forwards, her feet scrambling for a hold on the rocky surface.  Only a few hours ago she had been at home, her fists pounding into the and bag that hug limply in her room. The rhythmic thump thump thump of her fist colliding with the bag was the only thing that she worried about- but then she heard him. Heard his taunts, his teasing eating away at her walls of her patience until they broke through. She has turned to punch him in the face, her body moving with speed and momentum but he had blocked her, swiftly moving out the way, sending her slightly off balance. 

She has screamed at him then. Her rage getting the better of her as words as sharp as knives flew from her lips. Then came her taunts, her teasing. Words so hot, so filed with passion were then tossed around. Attack after attack, each of us verbally abusing the other, then came the challenge. She had thrown it out their so casually, her intention were meant for him to back off, but of course he didn't. He was a Hammerfell, and so was she. She knew, despite herself, that he would jump on it, sinking his claws in, like a predator claiming its prey. 

Her breathing is ragged as she forces her free arm to reach forwards, grabbing greedily at anything, anything that would help her climb this steep ravine. It had been her idea, once their bags were packed, once they had left the comforts of the inner city to hike out into the forrest, it had been her idea to race to the top, to climb with the aid of anything that they had packed- expect rope. Of course they had come to agrees on this term, claiming that with rope it would be too easy, not enough to test us, to test which one was the strongest, which one could survive. We wanted to find out who was the best. We wanted to be better than the other, and she knew she would do anything - anything- to beat that shit head which was her brother. She would not lose. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. 

"Ready to back down, dear bother?" Her voice is taunting as she glances over at hi, her muscles straining with her weight. "If I were you, I would just give up. We  know who will win. Why don't we stop whilst where a head. Why don't you just go crawling back home." Her intentions were to provoke him. She wasn't done yet. She wasn't going home. Not after just a few hours. This was a survival game, and she was going to survive. She was going to win. "Game on buddy," she mummers under her breath, a new determination replenishing strength to her weary arms.