Young Writers Society

"Alexandria Wind!" a small, pale girl asks, blinking at me.

"Y-Y-Yes?" I ask, shaking, grabbing Dak's arm.

"We are shipping off, no good-byes." She says, "Dak, stay with her." and with that, the pale girl disappears.

"Who was that?" I ask, shaking hard against Dak's arm.

"She tells everyone that, we need to stay together." He replies. He walks me over to the small, light blue couch and has me sit down in his lap, I'm shaking so hard I don't object, it's the safest I feel at the moment, in his strong arms that help the shaking stop.

He folds my arms to my chest, and presses my back against his chest, I don't object, he's trying to calm me, but it doesn't work.

"Chill," he tells me, resting his head on my shoulder.

"I can't!" I reply, shaking harder.

"Just relax. We don't go in for another ten days."

"Three." I correct.

"Err-yes." He coughs.tatt

Day One:

Dak and I are assigned a single room, with two beds. A small bathroom, and large windows.

Dak lays on my bed, no shirt on, with his black jeans on however, gently singing.

I sit next to him, my fingers tracing the faint burn marks on his hands, the small scars, and the small tattoo on his wrist, a compass star.

His hand fumbles with my hair, the other poking me to make me giggle.

But I don't giggle.

Day Two:

Dak and I are still in the room, already finished with breakfast, we both wrestle eachother, understanding each other's weakness as the sky turns bright, and lunch is served.

"One more day." He replies, eyes wide from his drink.

"Yes." I reply, dragging him onto my bed, "Lay with me..?" it's more of a command, but he does so.

Day Three, the final day:

Dak sits up from my bed, shaking his head, sliding out of bed to the small bathroom.

The pale girl appears again, special clothes for going in, she nods at Dak, and he smiles.

"Thanks." he replies, taking them, giving me mine, and changing in the bathroom.

"No problem." she replies, disappearing, I clothe quickly, ready.

Dak appears, and then, a team comes in, moving us out, to the 'arena'.

A few minutes later we're all standing in a grass meadow, this will be our home for one year.

I look over at Dak, swallowing.

Then, the trumpet goes off.

We dart to the weapons, I grab the first thing I find, a spear, Dak grabs a bow and arrows, while an arrow flies past him, he grabs it, loading it onto the bow, there's a whistle as it shoots past me, and finds its mark.

Everything is slow motion after that.

I see an arrow find Dak's chest.

I watch the blood fly, his mouth open in pure surprise.

I see him double over, trying to pull the arrow out.

I find myself twirling around.

I smash the spear into the chest of the man who shot Dak.

He slams into the ground, I collect his weapons, and grab Dak's hand, dragging him away.

Then everything goes back to normal.

"Run!" He tells me, and he starts running, holding the hole the arrow made in his chest.

I run, panting as he continues on, on and on. Until he collapses, vomiting up his breakfast.

I nearly lose my lunch, and pat his back.

"I ran to fast." He tells me, standing again, darting away.

I follow, until he stops at a clump of tries, he goes in, and I follow.

An hour later:

I put the branches in a teepe shape, putting grass from the nearby clearing in.

Dak sits against a tree, the wound worse then we have both expected.

I help him in the teepe, and he setttles down at once, blinking at me through half lidded eyes.

His chest is hot, and he's pouring sweat, he's over done himself twice, and lost all food in his stomach.

I leave, looking for water to cool him.

I find the river, and gather water, carring it back to him, litterly splashing it on his form.

He twitches at it, shaking his head.

"Tired."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

If he sleeps, he may never wake up again, that arrow wasn't a normal arrow.

Someone cheated.

Someone wanted Dak dead two minutes in.

Someone in high power is against Dak.

Someone wants to watch Dak suffer at the poison.

Someone wants to watch him die.