The forest remains largely unchanged as we progress. Or maybe not progress. We’re moving, at least, but I have no idea what we’re progressing towards. The goal feels elusive: survive, but get strong? Seek Challenges? How? If there is some kind of signage pointing towards important places, even my Legendary Perception has missed them entirely. I feel on edge after our brush with the Deathlord, straining my ears and eyes to pick up any movement in the endless forest.

  We come across another pack of three dingos, and Threenut springs into action with his new stick before I get over the initial shock. By the time I start lining up a power beneath their feet, one of them is down, its skull crushed on a narrow line, and the other is backing with a whimper, one paw dangling at an awkward angle. Switching tactics, I activate Weaken Gravity targeting the final dog. When it floats high enough, paws waving at the air, I cancel the power and activate Strengthen, pouring some soul energy into the effort. It crunches to the ground with a snap and a squelch, and the fight is over seconds after it began.

  Congratulations! You've absorbed soul energy! Spend it to evolve yourself!

  The trickle of power from the dying animal warms me briefly, replacing nearly every point of soul energy I spent to kill it. My maximum ticks up a single point to 143. Threenut blithely wipes his stick across the leaves of a nearby tree. I frown.

  What a difference a day makes. The broken animal on the ground, or at least its cousin, had terrified me just hours ago. They almost killed me. Now, my ‘fight’ with it took seconds, and the sight of its broken body doesn’t move me in the slightest.

  “It is the nature of the Tournament. Competitors either adapt and grow strong, or summarily perish. Thankfully, you are among the former group.”

  I’m not sure I want to be.

  “What? Why?”

  I don’t answer. Staring at the shattered beast leaking neon green blood into the soil, I have to fight the urge to vomit. I can feel Kora’s question in the back of my mind, so I offer a stream of memories of the taste of the blood, how horrible it was. A smoke screen to hide my true thoughts. She seems to buy it, for the curiosity fades from our consciousness. Her attention seems to turn inward, or at least away from me. For the moment, I truly feel alone with my thoughts.

  Is this what the god who made us intended? That we be warriors, murderers, who kill without caring? It doesn’t feel like it. Humanity is pretty fucked up, and there have been countless examples of the exact kind of shit that Kora seems to be pushing me towards, but we also do other things. Beautiful things.

  If killing is all we were made for, why the rest of it? What is our god’s game?

  Feeling Kora’s attention honing in again, I bury the thought down deep next to the pain and follow Threenut onwards into the lilac twilight. For the first time in a long time, the sky begins to darken. Threenut glances at me, his emerald eyes practically glowing in the night. His eyelids dim the brightness as they slide partway down.

  “We should rest, shouldn’t we?” I say, each word adding weight to my shoulders and eyelids until I can barely stand it. Adrenaline has been staving off a soul-deep weariness, but now it demands to be felt. Threenut’s small head bobs, blinking slowly. “Do Otachai Sleep?”

  “Aye, twig,” he says wearily, leaning on his little staff.

  “Humans as well,” I say, flopping onto the soft earth and putting my back to a tree. “Should we set up, uh, a watch, or something? Like you guard my back, I guard yours?”

  “That is the Tree’s wisdom,” he says, though his eyes don’t leave me where I rest against the uneven bark.

  “What?” I ask, forcing my eyes open. “Do you want me to go first?”

  “No, twig,” he says, his expression somehow conflicted. It’s hard to tell what he’s really thinking at the best of times, and I’m just so damnably tired all of the sudden. “I’ll guard yer sleep, as a sapling under the shade of its mother.”

  “Thanks, Three,” I murmur, feeling sleep already ushering me towards oblivion. “Glad… glad that you’re…”

  ***

  “You should go!” I say, giving Katie a nudge with my shoulder. “You know you don’t want to waste the night here with me.”

  “I don’t know… do you want me to stay?” She glances at me out of the corner of her eyes, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

  I fight the urge to grab her hair and pull her into a kiss for the millionth time, instead turning to look out at the sunset fading over the mountains. I can feel the heat of her, pressed to my side, and it makes my chest tight. God, I want to tell her. I want her.

  And of course I don’t want her to go to another stupid party. Not wearing that dress, not wearing that perfume. Especially not to a party off campus at some random frat boy’s rented mansion. I’m sure there are some decent people among that genre of human, but I’ve yet to meet one. Off campus, by herself, Katie is the type of girl who will get herself into trouble. She doesn’t know her limits, alcohol or otherwise.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Why don’t you come with me?” she says, nudging me back. I bite my lip, hyper aware of her touch. “We could have fun.”

  “You just want me to DD for you. Again. I told you last…” I make the mistake of looking into her eyes and lose the rest of what I’m going to say.

  “No!” She sits up, taking my hands in hers, face the picture of innocent excitement. “You don’t have to. You could… you know… partake. Have fun, for once. Come on, Sam, maybe you’ll meet someone!”

  I almost scream in frustration.

  I have met someone! It’s you, you gorgeous, clueless bitch!

  In anger and love and hope and fear, my chest roils.

  “No,” I say, dropping my eyes to our entwined fingers.

  “Why not?”

  I don’t want to see you with your arm around some guy. I don’t want to see you kiss someone else. I don’t want to know what you really get up to when you aren’t here with me. I don’t want to be here when you get home, today or tonight or tomorrow or the next day, drunk or sober or sad or giddy.

  I don’t want to lose sleep wondering if you’re okay.

  But I will.

  “It just isn’t my scene,” I say aloud, unable to lift my head.

  When she pulls away, I wonder if the splintering of my heart is audible. It must not be, because she stands and sighs. A whimsical, musical sigh. Her fingers trail gently through my hair. When I look up, it is just in time to see her disappear through the door.

  ***

  There is a sound. A breaking of silence. It makes the hair on my forearms stand up. I don’t open my eyes, but take stock with my other senses. My back is still to the tree, aching from a protrusion digging into my shoulder blade. I feel better, but not ‘full night’s sleep’ better. There is a smell, faint yet familiar, of mountain pine and desert dust. Stronger than I smelled it before. Immediate. There is a whisper of movement. I crack one eye, drawing gently on my soul to be ready in an instant.

  The night has darkened the air to a deep violet. A small figure stands practically straddling my leg, his leafy clothing rustling in a faint breeze. Even in silhouette, I’m certain it’s Threenut. I almost lift my hand to shove him away, almost open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, but something keeps me silent and motionless. Threenut sways with the wind, and the violet light shines on his stick, held ready as if…

  He stills suddenly, like a deer at the sound of a breaking branch. He grunts, low in his chest. The tip of his stick wavers.

  “Me god ye aren’t,” he whispers, voice far too soft to carry, but clear as day to my perception. “And I’ll nae heed yer whispers. Crush me nuts, the twig has borne me true.”

  There is a pause. He stands, motionless, as if listening.

  “If she does, then she does, yet I trust her more than ye, silent one. And that is worth more than a life.”

  Another pause.

  “The Folk would be in harmony,” he says, finally stepping away. “And if’n they would not, we be not deserving of the life the Tree granted us. I’ll hear no more of this business, voice, or ye will know how deep these roots delve.”

  The little Otachai, seemingly satisfied with his end of the conversation, sets his stick within careful reach and curls up next to it, one tiny hand resting on its smooth bark. His eyes are faint, luminous beacons as he watches the night.

  “I told you that it was foolish to trust him.”

  That’s really what you got out of what just happened? He could have killed me. And it’s just as clear that his Mentor wanted him to.

  “He resisted the urge to murder you in your sleep. Should we applaud? Should we rejoice? Should we declare the Tournament won?” Kora pauses, though it feels like she wants to continue. Somewhere in the back of my mind, she is choosing her words carefully. “He will be the death of you.”

  Honestly? I’m with him. At this moment, I trust him more than I trust you, Kora.

  “Then you are a fool.”

  Maybe. But I could die at any moment, and you’re holding shit back, keeping secrets. Any advantage, no matter how small, might make the difference. What do you know about humanity that you aren’t telling me? You said that we don’t have any advantages. We aren’t special. How do you know?

  “I don’t think this is something you truly want to know. If you insist, then I will tell you, but you may regret asking.”

  Well, that’s something to chew on. What could Kora possibly tell me that I’d rather not know? My heart jumps to a lurking fear I’ve been unable to find the words for, a fear that threatens my resolve every time my mind touches on it. I have no doubt that what I’m experiencing is real, but what if its motivation is bullshit? What if the human beings in this tournament are all that’s left? Dad, Nolan, even Mom…

  “That fear is unfounded, Competitor. If you continue to survive, you will see how wrong you are.”

  Then what… you know what, fine. If you ever think I’m ‘ready’ for whatever big secret you’ve got, let me know. Just hear me when I say—we’re trusting Threenut. I’d be dead without either of you, several times over, and I don’t want you pushing me to throw him off a cliff or murder him in his sleep like his Mentor did. Don’t even hint at it.

  “It has not been long, Competitor. Sleep. The rodent watches.”

  Promise me.

  She doesn’t answer. I fold my arms and shift my weight, trying to get the knob out of my back. Groaning, I throw myself on the ground and make a pillow of my arms. It’s marginally more comfortable at best. Exhaustion drags my consciousness down regardless, days of fighting and pain and tension overwhelming anything so petty as discomfort. As darkness creeps in again, a voice whispers in the back of my mind, almost too faint to hear.

  “Very well.”