running with the wolves {3 duowolf + Riptide Day 3}

His spear curls in and makes contact with the spiked and rusted red fur of his mutts. The crackle of its bones gets louder and louder as he digs further in. Evan moves in closer and his grip tightens against the metal poker to the point where his bones shake with pressure. He keeps going until he's face-to-face with them, their pair of heads moving back and forth trying to sustain the pain. But it fails once the spear comes out from the bottom of them and they fall. It takes a bit of muscle but he pulls the weapon, now covered in wolf blood, out from the carcass. It excites him that what took Thad and Half-Dozen so much time to do as a pair, Evan does the same on his own a hair or two later. The kill is his, albeit removing the obstacles is not as impressive as eliminating his opponents.

Soon enough, he thinks, turning to the last duo of wolves as it lunges toward Thad. and I won't be so generous with my claws.

"I'm going home!" Fourteen yells as he plants his machete at the leg of the creature. For the first time, Evan saw the kid's moves as impressive. The wolf whimpers for a moment before regaining its composure, howling and growling. Evan wonders what would happen if he just ran away now. Would his allies be able to weather the storm and the creatures accompanying it? Both of them would probably expect him to turn on them at some point. Good things can't last forever, and although the cannons only amounted to three, the signs of a storm gave way to a lack of satisfaction. Satisfaction, something a MacMillan knows well to satiate before punishment.

He stays, though, predicting an of-the-moment betrayal to be much more soothing to the Capitol's soul. Anything to restore comfort to his old man's livelihood and stability to the power he possesses. Live or die, legacy and prestige must live on, at all costs.

Thad makes a move towards the mutt, and Evan accompanies him. "I don't know about home just yet, Six," he stumbles for a minute before catching himself, "teen. Sixteen."

{"Don't crumble now, Evan. A shattered ego ends up on the ground like the rest of the filthy maggots."}

"But if there are beds in those cabins, maybe a good night's sleep'll suit you?"

Eternal sleep, that is. His spear, still dripping with the last wolf's blood, hurls towards the mutt. I can't keep myself from temptation much longer.