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chapter thirty-four
DARK SIDE OF THE MOON

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tw: violence
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She's covered in blood. Some of it is from the Mutt that tackled her to the ground, and some of it is his. Shep's. She has Shep's blood on her — the crimson staining her palms down to the soul.

Her hands are in fists, the right wrapped around her hatchet, the other clutching his token shakily. Sage's throat is raw from all the screaming and crying, so when Ptolemus suggests she get cleaned up, all she does is nod mutely. He carefully guides her to another saltwater pool, using his body to block her from Augustus's unnerving glare.

This pool is similar to the last one in depth, shallow but deep enough that when you sit it's like wading in a bathtub. Ptolemus helps her crouch down until she's practically sitting in his lap. Just past her, he can still see the rest of the Career Pack doctoring their wounds and preparing to make the journey back to the beach.

Ptolemus's eyes fall to her hands still clenched in fists. When he looks at her, she's got the veil in her vision again, tears shining. He tentatively reaches for her hatchet hand first, her spare in his belt from when she threw it to save his head, gently prying her fingers off the handle.

Crimson stains the pool in swirls as he dips her palm into the water. He helps her wash the blood away from her skin gently, and the hatchet sinks beside them. When he peeks back up at Sage, another tear falls down her cheek. She isn't looking at him, just somewhere in the distance. Somewhere far away from here.

Next is her left hand. She doesn't fight him as he opens her fist, but her bottom lip does quiver, those tears brimming in her eyes again. There's so much blood. Drenched in the handkerchief and stained in her skin.

That's because he's dead.

Her mind struggles to grasp it all while her heart aches knowingly. It's felt this grief before — is well-versed in the concept — teeth sinking into all her scars that never quite healed. This is simply another set to add to her collection.

He was just alive fifteen minutes ago. He was just alive this morning. He was just alive last night on that stage in his evergreen suit with his homemade pocketsquare. The same token she holds now, the fabric stained crimson with his blood that oozed from his torn throat. He was just alive fifteen minutes ago. He only needed to stay alive until tomorrow night.

He didn't even make it to the first sunset.

Shep was supposed to make it to Midnight. He was supposed to come with them. He was supposed to live.

It's her fault. His back never would have been turned if he didn't have to come to her rescue, trembling hands unable to free the machete from her hilt. She should've held onto her hatchet tighter, she should've reacted faster and pushed him out of the way, she should've—

"Hey."

Ptolemus's voice and hand on her shoulder is gentle, but Sage still jumps. Her dazed eyes struggle to look up at him, and his palm slips to her cheek instead. He carefully takes the stained cloth from her grasp.

"Let me help you." She starts to reach for it back and shake her head. Ptolemus interjects before she can shut him out again as he tries to find her. "Please."

Her heart heaves from the weight of the guilt, ache and all the secrets. She's too tired to resist their gravity, so she just nods, bottom lip trembling and soundless tears falling down her face.

She props her head onto Ptolemus's shoulder in exhaustion as he washes the blood from her hands, her suit and her hair. Sage feels like her chest is going to cave in, and he murmurs soothing words between each handful of water he runs over her body. Ptolemus does his best to wring out the blood from Shep's handkerchief before he folds it carefully into her palm.

It's when she feels the fabric between her fingers again that she straightens to peer down at it. The faded whites and greens have an undertone of pink, but that emerald thread is still blaring. Sage is about to break into another sob when she remembers Penny and Arlo back home.

Has that poor woman smashed the entire house to pieces while his dog waits for him on his porch? She chokes at the thought.

"He deserved to go home," she whimpers softly, voice breaking.

She remembers the very first moment that she met Shep on that train when she was sent to die at eighteen, his eyes so lost but his advice so clear and measured. Even when he was lost, he still guided her. Her Games. That day in the market with the little boy and the Peacekeepers. The two years of Mentoring together. Volunteering at the Reaping. And now. Where he died doing what he always did — looking out for her.

She tried to look out for him too. She was so close to keeping him safe. Just not close enough.

Her fist closes around the handkerchief as she clings to Ptolemus. The weight in her chest is suffocating from all the pain and secrets, and she exhales one quiet breath before she can think better of it.

"He was supposed to go home."

Sage breathes the words so softly all Ptolemus's ears pick up is "go home." Either way, his own heart aches, and he wishes he could take her pain and bear it instead. He cups her face in his hands, fingers tangling into her damp hair as he presses a long kiss against her forehead. Sage weeps quietly.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. Another kiss as he holds her closer on his lap. "I'm so sorry."

They only get another minute before Enobaria calls out to them. "If you two want to get mauled in the jungle, feel free to stay. But the rest of us are leaving." She snatches her sword and remaining spear, then turns in the direction of the beach.

Augustus also has one of each remaining as he stares at the two with an empty look to his eyes. It's like peering into two black pits that you could never climb out of, his polish slowly but surely wearing. Dried blood coats the top of his ear from Sage's nick earlier. Lazily, as if in a dark trance, he props himself off the tree he's been leaning on and follows Enobaria down. His stare still lingers. Cashmere is right behind.

Sage straightens out of her sorrow too quickly, but she doesn't allow herself to have much of another choice. She simply can't choose otherwise. Not here in the Arena when there's still another person she loves to protect. Shep is gone — he isn't making it to Midnight — but Ptolemus still can.

He has to. There's no other choice. If he doesn't make it, then she might as well just die before Midnight too. What was that she said in her Interview? One simply can't live without the other.

If she doesn't leave here with him, she simply won't leave at all.

She rubs the heels of her palms at her teary eyes, the saltwater stinging the irritated flesh as she shakily stands out of Ptolemus's arms. He follows suit, handing her her hatchet from the water. She takes it gratefully. He offers her the spare that still dangles from his own belt.

Before she can turn to follow the others, she reaches up to him, standing on her tip-toes to draw his lips to hers. Her palm finds his chest, and Ptolemus almost flinches when it nearly grazes the rings beneath his wetsuit. Either way, he clutches her close to him and kisses her back.

"I love you," she murmurs against his lips.

He nods in agreement as he releases her. "I love you."

And with that, they join the others on their march to the beach. Ptolemus decides to stand in front of Sage, the threat of a still vengeful Augustus stirring his nerves more than the dangers that loom in the jungle. Thankfully, once they catch up, Cashmere is between himself and the ruthless Career from One. It feels like being wedged between two ticking time bombs — both Sage and Augustus on the verge of exploding.

It's only Day One, and Finnick, Katniss and the others are still out there. Their alliance can't crumble yet with that many lethal threats lurking.

At this rate, they soon won't have much of a choice.

Sage doesn't say a word as she trudges through the jungle at the very end of the Careers' line. She waits to hear Shep's footsteps behind her like she has all day, but she never does. The dark green leaves of the jungle start to tint with golden cracks, and when she strains for a peek at the sky, she notes the sun is setting. Some white flowers she hasn't noticed before start to bloom, and she vaguely remembers their name and picture from the Edible Plants Station. Moonflowers. They glow beneath the setting sun's pink and gold fragments. In another glimpse, she spots that indigo staining the eastern side of the sky.

They need to get out of this jungle before it's night. She can only imagine what horrors the shadows will reveal if this is what they've experienced beneath the sun. Today might've been the longest day of her life. Terror after terror chasing after them — almost like clockwork.

Midnight. She has to make sure her and Tolly are ready for Midnight tomorrow. But where? Where can they meet Finnick and the others at Midnight? How will they know it's Midnight in the first place?

Those are details he failed to supply, perhaps because he barely knows himself or he just assumed she was clever enough to figure it out. Her best guess is they'll have to track them down once the sun sets tomorrow. Follow them wherever they go. That's a difficult task in itself, not to mention to track them and keep Ptolemus at a distance long enough for them to be rescued?

How the hell is she going to do this?

The panic swells in her, and she runs her thumb in soothing circles against Shep's handkerchief to try to ease her restless mind. It's futile. Tolly's life and her family's lives are in her hands and if she doesn't handle with care they'll all be dead like Shep.

She's going to go insane before Midnight can even come.

Cashmere seems to have noticed the blooming flowers too. She plucks one to her liking, tucking it into her blonde hair with a satisfied and small smile to her lips. As they continue to hike down the hill, she picks one every few strides to arrange her very own bouquet.

Ptolemus keeps glancing over his shoulder to check on Sage. She's just staring at the flowers as they pass more and more. They continue to bloom, opening up to the setting sky. They almost glow like the moon, an ivory halo wrapped around their petals. It's enchanting. Soothing to look at even, and every time she tries to refocus on the shadows in front of her so that she doesn't trip, her eyes are drawn back to the flowers.

At least there's something beautiful in this nightmare.

And yet, staring at them too long makes her eyes hurt. Perhaps it's because of their pearly hue, such a stark contrast to the darkness that's enveloped them all day. Then there's that feeling again. So uneasy, unsettling, uncomfortable, making her shift her weight with each step in a subtle attempt to roll it off her shoulders. It just wraps around her like a blanket she can't touch — only feel, making all her attempts futile.

Nothing about this jungle is a refuge. That's been proven a fact. Even with the comforting thought that they're leaving, marching back to the beach and evacuating the dense shadows, Sage still feels like they can't get out fast enough. Ptolemus holds some vines out of her way so that she can follow, and her eyes fall back to those pretty petals glowing like the moon that slowly begins to rise in the sun's place.

"What are they called?" Ptolemus asks lightly.

Sage steps beside him, but she notes he maintains half a stride ahead, body still shifted ever so slightly in front of hers. In front of them, Augustus seems to be antagonizing Cashmere for her bouquet. She shoots him a warning glare.

"Moonflowers I think."

Ptolemus nods thoughtfully. "The name makes sense."

"Yeah," she agrees. Then her dark brows furrow as she notes more and more blooming and opening up to the sky. "Have you noticed them before? In the jungle?"

He shakes his head and shrugs. "No, but they seem like they only bloom noticeably enough at night." His lips form a tight line when he ruminates on his own words a second longer. He stares at the flowers uneasily. "That's a natural thing, right? Not a Gamemaker twist?"

"It should be." Sage gnaws on the inside of her cheek uneasily, and she picks up her pace. That feeling is still there, simmering just beneath the flesh. It crawls up from the base of her spine and blossoms through every nerve. "Best to keep moving before the Gamemakers decide to make it one, though."

What's the worst that they could be? Poisonous? Simply just avoid eating them. They luckily look nothing like Venus Fly Traps, the carnivorous flowers. Perhaps it's safe to say the Gamemakers don't plan to have the Tributes eaten by plants.

Only Mutts. Sage starts to feel nauseous again when she's reminded of Shep's fate. The pale petals blend with his paling flesh as all the blood drained out of his torn throat. Taunts from her allies only minutes after his heroic death nip at the edges of her mind, and something else stirs in her besides sorrow.

Wrath.

Speak of the Devil, Augustus erupts into a hearty and eerie laugh up ahead as Cashmere shoves him hard in the chest. Her flower bouquet has fallen to the ground, and she looks like she'll skin him with her knives right there. He grins down at her in dark amusement, reaching to pluck the flower she's picked for her hair. She smacks his hand away as if it were a fly. Ptolemus and Sage slow their paces to keep their distance, the latter clenching her jaw at his grating and taunting laugh.

"Would you two knock it off?" Enobaria shouts somewhere up ahead. Sage barely catches the swing of her ponytail through the dark leaves.

"Mind your business," Cashmere warns. Her scalding gaze is boring into an eerily amused Augustus.

"Answer me asshole — where'd you put it?" She doesn't even give him a moment to respond before throwing her venom-laced accusation, a manicured finger jabbing right into his chest. "You fucking lost it, didn't you?"

By the feather of his jaw, it seems her finger's pushed right onto a button. He takes a threatening step forward as he looms over her. "I didn't lose shit." He twirls his finger in a circle by his head. "Sounds like you've lost it though, princess." Then his dark eyes flit toward Sage as he points his sword in her direction. "They went to get it. It's probably still in Sheep Man's pieces."

Sage glowers silently, his words plucking another tender but vengeful chord in her body. Ptolemus knows it, because he takes half a step in front of her before she can throw that hatchet again. He clears his throat. "What are you two looking for?"

"The spile," Cashmere spits. Her tone is jarring. "Who the fuck has my spile?"

Enobaria rolls her eyes plainly. "We don't have time for a water break—"

"I don't give a fuck about what you have time for," the blonde interjects in annoyance. "I said mind your business, Piranha Girl."

Ptolemus and Sage might laugh at the new nickname if they weren't so disturbed by the thick and sudden malice of her tone. Enobaria looks like she's half a second from skewering her to a tree with her spear.

Cashmere whips out one of her daggers, pointing it toward Augustus's throat while her glare shoots in Ptolemus and Sage's direction. Everyone stiffens. Something even angrier than that irration Sage saw at the hammock-station comes out. Something menacing. "Who lost my fucking spile?"

Augustus doesn't even flinch at her tone. "You sure you want to point that at me?" He clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "You've got three seconds to change your mind."

Sage doesn't want to move or speak at first. All she can do is just stare at Cashmere warily. For someone who's always too cool to be disturbed, she's absolutely seething right now. Even Ptolemus frowns with mild discomfort as he watches the strangely heated interaction.

Augustus starts his counting. "Three..."

"You lose it or you steal it?" Cashmere interrogates, still holding that blade to his throat. Sage's hand is fumbling for her wetsuit pocket.

"Two..."

"Gloss and I've always thought you were a pathetic rat." Her lips curl into a taunting sneer. "Shamelessly scavenging for scraps."

The chuckle that rattles at the base of his throat makes everyone shiver, and he smirks a pretty smirk that doesn't reach his eyes. Just as his lips form an 'O' for the final number of his menacing countdown, knuckles wrapped around his spear, Sage takes a careful step forward.

"I have it," she mentions as evenly and lightly as possible.

Her words feel like they echo it's so quiet. An uneasy breath as she licks her dry lips, and Cashmere slowly turns her head to face the Victor from Ten. Her knuckles twitch around the handle of her dagger, her cool, pale eyes sweeping across her blankly. Augustus hasn't removed his harrowing glare from Cashmere.

Sage holds the spile up for the woman to see, before gently attempting to toss it to her. Cashmere catches it with ease and inspects it suspiciously. Ptolemus watches a muscle in her cheek twitch when she looks to Sage, and he narrows his gaze at her. A huff as she shoves Augustus away from her with a hard palm to the chest.

"I'm going to get some water."

Augustus sneers, voice thick with sarcastic concern. "Don't drown in it, princess."

Her feet stomp through the thick foliage until she disappears between a set of trees. She isn't far though, because they can hear her knife digging into one of the trunks. Enobaria and Augustus exchange dark looks, while Ptolemus and Sage just glance to one another in wary confusion.

"Should've just let her brother kill her," the Victor from One grunts, spitting on the ground. Then he glares at Sage. "How nice of you to take your time mentioning you had it, sweetheart. What's your goal? Get us to kill each other so you don't have to?"

"Sounds like your inability to play nice with others is a You Problem, Augustus," Ptolemus interjects sharply.

Enobaria snorts. "Look who's talking."

"You know what I think is interesting?" Augustus inhales a sharp breath, lips forming into a mockingly pensive pout. "You said that Katniss and her allies went this way. Yet I haven't seen a single sign of them all day. Now they got Twelves, but they can't be that good to evade the Gamemakers."

Sage's heart hiccups, but she masks it well, simply just staring right back at him. "Maybe us being stuck in Quicksand or fighting off Mutts gave them a proper headstart."

"Hm." His eyes narrow at her. "You always have an answer, don't you?"

"So do you, mine just tend to be based on fact rather than fragile ego."

Ptolemus adjusts his grip on his sword as he raises his brows at Augustus. "Do we have a problem? Because I'm pretty sure I saw them go this way too."

"Just keep your sweetheart in check," Augustus warns smoothly. He gently touches the graze on his ear as he eyes her darkly. "I still haven't forgotten about that sweet little kiss she gave me. You're both lucky only six are dead." Then he straightens with false realization, counting the figures present in this corner of the jungle. "Oh wait. Only seven dead."

Sage clenches her jaw and her hatchet. If Ptolemus weren't in front of her, she might consider adding a tally to her kill count and making it five. It's when she looks to his wound and his beady eyes that she knows she should've given him more than just a warning. She should've delivered justice.

Ptolemus senses it, because his hand overlaps hers on her hatchet as he stands in front of her. She almost jerks out of his grip when Enobaria bears her teeth, glowering at where Cashmere disappeared. "God, how long does it take to get a fucking drink of water?!"

Silver sparks in the air before her blonde head can materialize. Sage's eyes widen when she realizes it's coming right for her, and she ducks before she can think of anything else. Ptolemus reacts faster than he thought he could as he uses his sword to bat the twirling dagger into the ground with a vicious grunt. Cashmere has returned to the clearing now, another blade in her grip as his chest heaves.

Ptolemus's eyes drift toward where the blade ricocheted. Shock tries to stun him into a stupor. But his eyes don't lie to him, and his chest slowly grows eerily still as his narrowed stare lifts to Cashmere. She wasn't first on his list, but she is now.

"Really wish you wouldn't have done that."

Sage straightens in bewilderment, and even Enobaria looks startled. For once, the Career from Two doesn't know what she wants to do with her sword. Augustus just smirks at his allies like a tiger finally let out of his cage.

Ptolemus takes a steady step forward with sword in tow. Augustus is ready to do the same. Before an all out brawl amongst Careers can begin, Cashmere turns to her unsuspecting District Partner. Sage swears she only sees the whites of the woman's eyes.

There's a blur of her body as she suddenly launches herself at Augustus with the animosity of a Mutt, her war cry sharper than her knives. She takes him and everyone else by surprise, and they're sent tumbling down the hill behind with her momentum.  Ptolemus follows steadily after them, picking up his pace and wrapping his knuckles tighter around the sword's handle. He's more than ready to kill them both. He will kill them both.

Sage recognizes that cool determination, and her gut knots. She stumbles through the jungle and her stunned stupor after the three. "Tolly, wait!"

He doesn't answer. His eyes are only set on them — predator locked onto prey. The two from One are still falling and rolling, punches and grunts echoing through the air. Ptolemus slides down the hill after them with jaw clenched, and Sage tries to catch up. Enobaria's bewildered stare bores into her cheek as she also trails behind.

"What's her problem?" the woman hisses.

Another vicious grunt, the ground finally flattening out and Cashmere and Augustus warring along the earth. There's the glint of silver raised high in the air for someone's throat. Marrow cracks beneath another's fist. That pearly white flashes in the corner of Sage's vision again, and she almost slips on the slick leaves. She reaches out for a nearby vine to steady her descent.

She cranes her neck and ducks her head to catch another glimpse of Cashmere. "Something's wrong. Can you see her eyes?"

Enobaria's lips curl into an impatient and incredulous snarl as she hacks at a set of creepers in her way. "Her eyes?!"

This doesn't make sense. Cashmere wouldn't turn like this, not so violently and suddenly. She knows a District Partner, insufferable or not, isn't one to lose too early. Hence why she saved him from the Quicksand. And Sage. Why would she throw a dagger at Sage? Not that they're necessarily besties, but...

Ptolemus doesn't care about rationale. He saw what he saw. Cashmere threw a blade for Sage, and Augustus has been eyeing her like a meal since the Gleam Gala. They both have to die and they have to die now. He hacks viciously at leafy foliage blocking his path.

Screw allies.

He finally reaches the base too, leaping down with an unnerving thud. While Augustus is armed to the teeth and his spear and sword certainly outmatch her knives, it's clear he isn't trying to kill Cashmere yet. He uses his fists to jab and block her blows as she tries to scratch his eyes out. They've rolled near another saltwater pool again. Augustus's dark eyes widen when he spots Ptolemus trailing behind them with his sword ready to run through them both.

Sage notes the flower from Cashmere's hair has been flattened into the ground from the struggle. It still glows its pearly white, the aura nearly blinding. Sage's eyes widen in realization, and she rushes to grab Ptolemus by the arm and keep him from slaughtering them both. Enobaria is right after them.

"Augustus!" Sage calls out. "Her eyes! Can you see her eyes?" Ptolemus takes another step forward, and she clings to him in a desperate attempt to keep him in place. "Tolly, wait."

He doesn't, simply pulling himself out of Sage's grip with his momentum. He's two strides from looming right over them now.

Cashmere raises her dagger right for Augustus's eye. His hand shoots out like a viper, meaty fingers around her throat and making her wheeze. "White as moonstones!"

It all happens at once and it happens fast.

Ptolemus raises his sword to skewer both of them down into the earth. Enobaria's leg sweeps across his ankle the same time that Augustus grunts and flings Cashmere off him by the neck. Another jarring kick to the side of his knee, and Ptolemus stumbles, grabbing onto a curtain of vines to keep himself from falling completely to the ground. An ivory puff sputters into his eyes that he tries to blink away.

Cashmere is wheezing and panting as she writhes on the ground, still gripping her blade and hand hovering around her neck. But just like a Mutt, she springs back from the blow as if it were just a tickle. When she straightens, everyone blinks dumbly at her eerie stare. A milky haze veils over her entire iris, diluding the blue and glistening like the moon. Glowing like the flowers that whisper something eerie with their beauty that only the beholder can truly hear.

Augustus grips his sword tightly as he gapes. "Holy hell."

The longer she looks, the more Sage realizes how Cashmere truly isn't here. Her body is, but her mind isn't. It reminds her of the fog that would claim Shep's eyes, but violent and eerie.

"It's the flowers." Sage stifles a shudder. The petals surrounding them are darkened like the other side of the moon. "Something's wrong with the flowers — they're making us violent if we get too close."

"We were already violent," Augustus argues. He tilts his head to the side at a glowering Cashmere, almost mystified. "She's fucking possessed."

The woman snarls, hurling her dagger through the air at Augustus. Terror quakes through Sage's voice as she clutches her hatchet. "We need to snap her out of it!"

There's the metallic shriek of swords clashing from behind, and both of them jump. Enobaria bears her teeth as she glances over to them momentarily. "And him too."

Another sword drives down onto hers, and she blocks his strikes with ease. Sage's heart drops like an anchor when her eyes follow the arm that holds the blade up to his face. Those clear and sky blue eyes are gone, veiled by a thick pearly fog. Ptolemus swings down at Enobaria with a vicious grunt, and she barely dodges his strike.

"Tolly!"

He doesn't even react to his name. Sage takes a step forward with not a clue on what to do. How do you fight back against chemically-engineered pollen that makes you violent and most likely hallucinate?

A blade whistles sharply past her ear, and she ducks again with a startled shriek. There's a loud Splash! behind her, and Sage turns to see Augustus holding Cashmere's head under the water of the saltwater pool. The woman thrashes against him, but it's futile with his monstrous strength. He grunts as he shoves her further into the water facedown.

Sage lunges forward desperately to tug at his arm. "Don't kill her!"

"I'm not trying to!" Augustus snarls. He jerks his arm out of Sage's grasp and shoves her in the chest — hard. She swears her heart seizes as she chokes and sputters, body caving to her knees. Meanwhile, Cashmere tries to reel back up, dagger slashing blindly, but he shoves her further down.

Ptolemus cries out, Enobaria's blade catching his arm and blood trickling down. His hiss of pain quickly morphs into an enraged snarl as he lunges down at her with enough force to drive her into the earth. She uses the momentum to roll and swing at his legs.

"What do you want us to do then?!" Enobaria grunts as she blocks another one of his blows. "Knock them out?!"

Augustus spits. "What the hell do you think I'm trying to do, Bari?!"

Cashmere's grip on her knife slackens, and so does the fight in her thrashing body. He'll kill her. He's about to kill her. Sage struggles to catch her breath from his punch to the chest, and she does the only thing she can think of.

"Stop!" Her body slams into Augustus's shoulder, the man like a brick wall as her command comes out as a wheeze. "That's enough, she's had enough!"

The force isn't enough to send him toppling over, but it does startle him enough to let go of Cashmere's neck. Her body limply floats upward to the surface of the pool. Augustus's glare bores into Sage's cheek, but she ignores it as she rapidly pulls Cashmere out of the water. She feels for a pulse on the woman's neck.

Nothing. No cannon yet either.

Sage gets to work quickly. Part of her expects Augustus to snatch her away and hold her head under too, but he doesn't, only watching dumbly beside her. His eyes remain trained on his District Partner, chest warily still.

Only on rare occassions has she had to attempt CPR on the animals at home — the first when a newborn calf she helped bring into this world was born without a breath in its lungs. She performs chest compressions on Cashmere, trying to ignore the brawl she hears behind her. It takes everything in her not to focus on Ptolemus's safety against Enobaria and focus on resuscitating her ally. Red marks from Augustus's fingers stain Cashmere's throat.

"Check her eyes," Sage orders. "See if they're still white."

He doesn't argue against her demand, prying her eyelids open with a finger. The milky veil is gone. Sage continues her CPR. Thirty chest compressions — two rescue breaths. She's on her second round of compressions when Cashmere finally hacks up gulps of saltwater, and Sage barely dodges her spit.

She leans back with a relieved and exhausted sigh while her own breath still tumbles out of her chest. The woman keeps coughing as she peers around in bewilderment. Her lips try to form words, but Sage doesn't catch them, a shriek piercing through the air behind her.

Whirling around, she spies Enobaria weaponless and on the ground, clutching her bleeding left hand and struggling to catch her breath. Ptolemus looms over her, a slice on his arm but unharmed otherwise. He raises his sword high in the air for the death blow. Sage does the only thing she can think of without hurting him.

She throws a rock no bigger than a golf ball at his chest. "Tolly!"

The impact makes him freeze, and a muscle in his jaw feathers as his sword hovers over a winded Enobaria. The rock just bounces back onto the ground pitifully, and slowly, he turns his head to face her. Silence pounds with her heartbeat.

For the first time ever in her time of knowing him, Sage is absolutely petrified of Ptolemus.

Because this isn't Ptolemus. Not truly — the milky veil still staining his eyes and stealing him away from her.

He takes a step toward her, and she takes a step back, heart hiccuping in her chest. Her entire body runs cold to the point she shivers as she realizes what he's about to do. What the Gamemakers are going to force him to do. More backpedaling as he continues toward her. Augustus makes no leaps to help, instead tending to Cashmere and Enobaria.

"Tolly," Sage tries. Another step backward, and she almost slips. She reaches down for another rock to throw at him. He keeps marching steadily toward her, twirling his blade in his hand. The look on his face is unrecognizable. "Tolly, stop."

She throws a rock again, but his sword swats it away with a vicious grunt, her ribs cowering at the gust of air from his strike. It doesn't matter what she does. It doesn't matter if she begs or pleads or calls his name. Ptolemus isn't here. He isn't here with her, trapped somewhere in his mind while the Gamemakers try to make him kill her.

There's no point in her wielding the hatchet — she could never use it against him. Another futile step back. She stifles a yelp when her spine presses right into the bark of a tree.

No one's coming to help her. Why would they? Her only real allies are either dead or trying to kill her right now.

Sage has stared Death in the face numerous times. She's even imagined her death in a poor attempt to prophesies what demise the Gamemakers might conjure for her. But she never fathomed this. She never thought Death's eyes would be the same as the love of her life's.

She shrieks the same time Ptolemus lunges forward, his sword's blade swinging right for her head. "Tolly!" Her body drops while her heart catapults out of her chest.

THUNK!

His blade lodges into the trunk just inches above her skull. He grinds his teeth together as he yanks it out with a grunt. Tears sting her eyes when he raises the sword again, and she holds a desperate palm out as a pathetic shield.

"Tolly, please!"

It doesn't matter. His arm jerks. She turns her head and snaps her eyes shut, bracing for the blow. She flinches when he grunts, and she waits to feel the sting of his blade. Instead, there's the clatter of a sword and a loud Thud!, the earth shaking beneath her at the impact.

Sage's head reers up to see Ptolemus straining and kicking on the ground, fighting against two beefy forearms wrapped around his neck like a noose. The choking and gagging sounds he makes almost causes her to wheeze.

No matter how much he pries, Augustus's hold on him is unwavering. She'd think he were trying to kill him if she didn't recognize the move. Something she's watched her father and brothers do on rare occassions when needing to subdue an animal out of its mind, briefly cutting off blood flow to the brain to incapicitate them.

Sage crawls forward quickly when she sees Ptolemus's eyelids growing heavy, white eyes rolling into the back of his head and his limbs falling limp. Another two seconds, and he's out cold. Augustus doesn't let go.

"Okay!" she shouts. "That's enough!"

She yanks Augustus's arms from his neck, and the Victor heaves himself from under Ptolemus's dead weight. Sage quickly but gently draws his head to her lap.

Her eyes remain trained on his chest as it rises and falls. She still checks his pulse three times anyway. Even presses her ear to his heart, then hovers her cheek above his lips to feel his breath tickling her faintly. She dreads a cannon, but never gets one. Somewhere behind her, she can still hear Cashmere wheezing.

Augustus's smug glare bores into her cheek. She does her best to ignore it as she just watches Ptolemus warily, waiting for him to wake up. Sleeper hold can subdue you for seconds to a minute depending how long you were held. And if you were held too long... well...

"Don't think I did that out of the kindness of my heart." Augustus inhales a sharp breath as he props himself off the jungle floor, snatching his sword again. "I need him against Fish Boy. And you?"

She stiffens and clenches her jaw when she feels cool metal just beneath her chin. It pokes warningly at the soft flesh, and he tilts her head to look up at him. She glowers while he sneers with arrogant satisfaction.

"I'm saving you for the end."

Ptolemus jolts the same time that Augustus drops his blade from her chin. Sage flinches, and his eyelashes flutter open, dazed eyes straining. She's never felt so relieved to see that his eyes are blue as she exhales a shaky breath that rattles with a whimper. He gapes at her in his stupor, chest heaving.

"What—" He shakes his head at her faintly, and she gently holds his face in her hands, stifling tears. "What happened?"

Sage doesn't plan to tell him every detail. "You—

"You and Blondie over here tried to kill us all," Enobaria snaps.

She's still tending to her left hand, but the gash must not be enough to keep her from wrapping her knuckles around her spear. Crimson drips onto the jungle floor beneath her. Beside her, Cashmere is holding her throat, staring down at her feet in a daze.

Ptolemus just blinks, his brain still stuttering from the lack of blood flow. "What?"

"Even your little sweetheart, here." Augustus points to Sage with his sword. "You would've gutted her if it weren't for me."

Ptolemus jerks in her lap, moving far too fast, and she can see it in the way that he winces. His lips curl into a snarl. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Then the words must really sink in. His rage drops to skeptical but panicked unease as he glances up at Sage. "What's he talking about?"

Sage doesn't answer his question, only brushing the dirt and damp leaves that are sticking to his cropped hair. She just shakes her head softly. "You need to take your time getting up. Your brain is trying to recover from a lack of blood flow. You're probably going to have a headache."

She didn't answer his question. His heart sinks, and his body grows unnervingly cold at her tone. She's so gentle and sweet with him, and he tenses with dread instead of falling into it like he always does.

Immediately, his eyes comb across her throat, her face, all the parts of her he can see from this position in search of any wounds that weren't there before he was fighting Finnick in the jungle. There's nothing. His sword is inches from his hand, and when he peers past Sage's shoulder, he sees a slice in a tree's trunk.

He's going to be sick. "Sage."

"Do you still feel dizzy or light-headed?" she asks gently. Another brush of her thumb against his cheek, and he reaches for her hand pleadingly. "We can try to stand up."

"What'd I do?" His voice breaks. "Sage, what'd I do? Where are Finnick and the others? I saw them, I—"

"Who knows where they are," Augustus drones. A shrug. "They weren't here though." His eyes hang on Sage pointedly. "And you definitely weren't going to kill Finnick."

Ptolemus tries to dig back into what he thought he saw. It's all so difficult to grasp despite feeling so real at the time, like trying to cup mist with your hands. When he looks to Sage for confirmation again, she's just glaring at a smug Augustus.

Behind them, Enobaria juts her chin at Cashmere, pulling her off the ground with her good hand. "Can you walk?"

"I'd be happy to carry you, princess," Augustus suggests wryly, propping his spear over his shoulder while still clutching his sword.

Cashmere's voice resembles more of a wheeze, crackling like kindling from choking down saltwater. "Stay — a-way from me."

"Make sure you cover your noses and steer clear of the flowers," Sage calls to the others. "It's likely the pollen that caused it."

A muscle in Enobaria's cheek twitches, and she glowers out at the jungle around them with loathing. "I've always hated flowers."

Nevertheless, the others follow Sage's advice, using the collars of their wetsuits to pull over their noses and mouths. They begin the descent back to the beach.

"C'mon, let's try to get you up." Sage gently helps Ptolemus to stand.

His eyes are watering, and every time he looks at that slice in the tree or repeats Augustus's words in his brain, it feels like someone's carving his chest out with a butcher knife. He clings to Sage, partly because his legs feel weak and partly because he's desperate to know. He has to know what he did.

But does he really want to know what he did?

He'd never hurt her. Not in a million years. The thought makes him almost heave his guts against a tree right then and there.

"Sage," he pleads again.

She picks up his sword and goes to hand it to him. Ptolemus flinches away. There's blood on it. Is it hers? He's scanning her up and down for wounds again. He shakes his head at her as a tear falls down his cheek.

"Sage, what happened?" He wants to hold her, but he's scared to. Just like he's terrified to touch that sword again as his mind tortures him with endless possibilities of what he possibily could've done to hurt her. She looks up at him softly while anxious desperation rattles through his body. "What did I do? Did I— "

Sage squeezes his hand with both of hers. "You didn't hurt me."

His body reacts to her words before his mind can, the relief almost evoking a sob from deeper in his chest. He just stares stiffly and prays to hear them again. They swirl around his foggy mind like a whirlpool. She squeezes his hand once more as she takes a step closer. "And even if you would've, it wouldn't have been your fault. It wasn't you."

He wants to crawl out of his own skin. His chest jerks unevenly as his lungs flail. Tears are burning his eyes. "You know I'd never—"

"I know," she vows truthfully. She tugs him to her, and he wraps his arms around her desperately, kissing the crown of her head while another tear or two slips into her hair. They're both shaking. "I know, Tolly."

She lets him hold her as long as he needs to. He clings to her like a lifeline, chest trembling and lips pressing to the top of her head over and over again. She closes her eyes in relief that he's here. He isn't lost behind the veil, and his hands aren't forced to be her demise. Such a Fate is unbearable to even think about, let alone live.

Eventually, after a minute or two, he seems apprehensively ready to move on, anxious to get away from these dreaded flowers. He barely holds his sword, his other hand choosing to hold onto Sage. The ground is slick, and darkness slowly shrouds the Arena in indigo, the shadows of the jungle amplifying. It's difficult to see. Unfortunately, the ivory glow of the flowers offer some source of light as they try to follow the others.

Ptolemus holds his hand out to Sage to help her down another steep and slippery hill. Neither of them see the net of creepers until her foot slips into them. Her breath hitches, and he reaches out to steady her, but his knees are still weak and his head is throbbing. She barely latches onto a curtain of vines in time to keep herself from tumbling down the hill. His hand is on her waist in a second.

But it doesn't matter anyway. The vines she's clung to part and reveal another pearly glow with petals that open like a door to another dimension. A dimension of every Tribute's worst nightmare. Mist swirls into her eyes as she's transported to such a harrowing world before she can stop it. When she looks over her shoulder, the jungle waits, but Ptolemus is gone.

Instead, looming behind her is the one person she never thought she'd see again.

Colt. 

━━━━

»»————-　♡　————-««

Ahhhhhh this chapter ended up being so much longer than I thought it would be!!!

I was struggling so much with it — I loved the concept but I felt like I wasn't evoking the feelings I wanted to be evoked out of what was happening so please feel free to let me know what you think!!!!

Shoutout to stilestastic for this very relatable meme that captured exactly how I felt writing this chapter perfectly

But yes please feel free to let me know what you think!! I love hearing from you!! Thoughts, worries, predictions or favorite parts??? Was it exciting???

Here is an aesthetic for this sector of the arena (they're in 7-8 now). I imagined their eyes a lot like Victor Krum's from Goblet of Fire in the Maze! Contrary to my Harry Potter influence I have never read the books lol.

Also!!! I made more gifs of Sage and Ptolemus and they make me so giddy but also they make my heart ACHE UGH OUR POOR BABIES!!! ITS ONLY DAY ONE!!!

Also!!! Random — if you had to say what Disney Prince and Princess Tolly and Sage remind you of what would you say?? Obviously for science purposes!! Tolly gives me Hercules vibes but more sarcastic.

Anyways here's our honeys 🥰

Word Count: 7715