be prepared | scout's honor vs mutts [day 3]

a v r i e l .

"We forgot to talk about Heaven
And leaving
And what it would mean
And how I would grieve"

The pitfall gives him weird dreams, these long twisted things where he steps and falls but there's no spikes at the end, just falling. Avriel watches his life flash in front of his eyes over and over again and he doesn't like what he sees. He had it all once, loving family, pretty good grades, a future– but then he lost it and he can point the finger at almost everyone else, but in the end he's the only one still around to blame.

Now he sleeps on a bed of leaves and waits to die in the night. His eyes flutter open again somewhere around one in the morning. The cuts on his legs itch and burn in an angry cycle. Avriel gazes up at what stars he can see through the canopy above him, distracting himself by finding the patterns between them. They can't be real, he's pretty sure of that at least. The gamemakers control the weather, they must control the stars too. He wonders which of them is the romantic because Avriel doesn't remember learning about any constellations in the shape of a rose.

He could be seeing things.

Sweat drips down his forehead and trickles down to pool in his ear. It irritates but the idea of moving in the heat is too much. His whole body aches, he's surprised that he can even still think properly. It's as if the searing pain in his legs has become part of him. It's hard to remember a time before the dull throbbing, perhaps there wasn't one, he's just always been in pain and the wounds on his legs are just an unfurling, an excuse to feel it.

Avriel shifts slowly, trying to get comfortable and failing. His eyes squeeze shut and he shoves a fist into his mouth to keep from crying out and waking his allies. His legs feel like dead weight and for one disconnected second, he wonders if it'd be better to just cut them off.

Then there's a cool cloth on his forehead, soothing words in his ear and Avriel settles slowly. Areto is the last person he'd expect to come to his rescue but she smoothes his hair back and her touch is gentle. After a few moments, he falls into a dreamless sleep.

The morning is more clear, his fever nearly gone by the time he wakes up. The bandages on his legs are clean and Avriel looks over at Areto, unsettled. There's more to her than he thought.

IT takes all of his focus and energy to walk through the rest of the challenge course. Each step stings and now he's got his eye out for more traps. It was foolish of him to think that he'd be the only one setting them but Avriel is just glad that he was the one to trigger it. The minute he felt the floor give beneath him, he scrambled backwards. The trap still got his legs though, the long spikes at the bottom nearly impaled his shin.

He won't fall for it again.

They leave the trees behind and reach a clearing. Picnic tables, long abandoned are lined up through it but grass threatens to swallow them whole. For the briefest moment, Avriel is hesitant to step into the tall grass. There could be anything waiting in there, but the forest isn't much better. In the end, the whole place is designed to kill them.

He steps forward, too focused on walking to recognize that the rustling in front of them isn't the wind in the grass but movement. Antlers come piercing out from the grass followed by a massive mutt. Avriel scrambles back, wincing through the pain in his legs and the antlers just miss him.

The mutt raises its head again and Avriel pulls himself up, hands digging through his bag for his knives, only to give up and grab the machete that he found yesterday. A scream comes from beside him, Blade's voice and he hears it, the tearing sound of her flesh. Avriel grimaces, hand wrapped so tightly around the hilt of the sword that it burns and in the moment, that hurts more than his legs.

"Blade!" he shouts. A two-headed wolf is on her, claws on her chest, breathing in her face and all she has is her knife to protect her. Avriel turns his back on the antlered beast in front of him and lopes stiffly over to her, pain shooting up through his legs with each step.

He brings his sword down on the animal's neck.

[avriel attacks ranger with sword]
nvjwFaaQqNsword
[Shallow Cut -- 3.5 damage]

"freedom, oh freedom
like a hearbeast
can drive you mad."

a v r i e l .

"We forgot to talk about Heaven
And leaving
And what it would mean
And how I would grieve"

The sky opens above them in a thundering boom, the storm that's been threatening all morning finally starting to make itself known. Avriel looks up at the noise briefly, shoulders hunched upwards, knees bent. It's always been odd to him just how close thunder can sound to a gunshot, as if there are people in the clouds fighting too. He remembers being eight years old and standing in the games square, a hand wrapped tightly around Duke's so he wouldn't wander off. There'd been fireworks every year on the anniversary of the end of the dark days, these big bright explosions that rained glittering flecks of gold. He and Duke used to go looking for the glitter the next morning, but it was nowhere to be seen.

It was as if it had never existed.

The thunder distracts him long enough that he doesn't see the deer's antlers growing close again. Avriel tries to step back in time but he still catches an antler against his skin and it opens a new cut.

There's so much blood, it slips down his skin and it drips onto the ground and it drips onto the wooden floorboards and the curtains are spattered with it, blowing in the wind.

And the scent of a burning cherry pie weaves itself between all of them, through the antlers of the mutts and the open maws of the wolves and Avriel smiles softly– he can't eat cherry pie anymore.

"I've fought alone for a long time now," he tells Blade, "I'm glad I don't have to anymore."

He steps in front of her, knife gripped tightly in a shaking hand and Avriel stares down the wolves. Its mouths foam with spit, their breathing comes heavy, their chest heaving from the effort. The look in their eyes is crazed, feral. It's like looking into a mirror, Avriel feels the same exhaustion. His hands are slick with his own blood.

There's no anger in his next move, no regret either. Avriel flicks the knife forward, throwing it with as much grace as he can muster. He just hopes that when it comes down to it, someone will put him down just as gently.

[avriel attacks ranger with throwing knife]
vByqPKUAR_throwing knife
[sc on cheek 3.5]