Chapter Forty Four

It was almost noon. Thomas was struggling with the restlessness that had snuck under his skin, only aiding the over-awareness that had set in the moment he'd stepped foot in the Arena. His nerves were shot from jumping at every small sound, every falling leaf or settling branch sending his mind into overdrive as he imagined Careers sneaking around every trunk. He'd had to give up his pacing, his wounded heel pulsing too painfully for him to continue trying to ignore it.

Aris was quiet beside him, keeping his fingers busy with several long strands of sweetgrass, creating intricate pleats with nimble little movements. His hair was still unruly from sleep and every time Thomas's eye landed on it the urge to straighten it out grew. The kid had a streak of dirt across one cheek and stray blades of grass and coils of moss stuck to his collar.

If it weren't for the dread the thought brought, he'd have long ago grown irritated with the continuing circle his train of thought kept looping around.

Just a kid. So young. Look at him, he shouldn't be here. He has no idea how to survive. Just a kid. So young. He should be safe at home still being tucked in by his mother. What's he doing here? So young. Just a kid. Just a kid.

His eyes were inevitably, as always, drawn back to the form of his best friend. Newt still lay where Thomas had lain him what felt like days before, the only proof he was even still alive the painfully gentle rise and fall of his chest.

It hurt to look at him. Thomas had tried not to, had tried to engage in what Aris was doing, tried to learn. But his fingers were too thick and heavy, too rubbery, his patience too thin. He dropped his head back against the trunk again, stared up into the green of the canopy, but even that hurt.

The leaves, stretching to reach from tree to tree as though trying to connect with other life, were the wrong shade of green, just a little too thick, the leaves curved just the wrong way. He missed the field.

He missed home.

Newt drew his gaze once more, the cycle reset. His skin was blotchy with heat even now, in a day cooler than the ones before it. His wheat-gold hair was thick and tangled, slick with dried sweat, with leaves, with the way it had curled and dried from the lake water. His face was shaded by the tree above him and the undergrowth around him. His eyelids twitched every now and then, further proof he was alive in his unconsciousness.

Thomas swallowed down the fear that he'd never see them open again. He missed the brown underneath so much it frightened him to his core.

He'd never expected to love anyone like this, not this way, this real, raw, to his core sort of way.

Really, he wished he didn't. He knew it clouded his judgement. He knew he'd die for the blonde. He knew he'd make decisions without looking at his options properly, knew he already had.

But what else was he to do?

It was Newt. Newt was-

"Thomas."

Aris's soft hiss made Thomas pause, suddenly aware that the sounds of the forest around them, which had recommenced once they'd settled down, had died again. His chest grew tight and cold. His hand crawled through the greenery beside him to curl around the body of his bow. He cocked his head to one side, keeping his breath suppressed, trying to ignore the sound of his own pulse picking up as he listened.

Aris was frozen still too, eyes wide and green and worried. Thomas hated it. Hated all of it for putting the kid in this place.

How long they stayed like that was anyone's guess. Nothing moved. No birds chirped. Even the trees seemed stiller, like the breeze had just vanished too.

Minutes passed. An hour, it seemed.

For a while the passing seconds only made Thomas more tense, his muscled so locked it felt like when he did eventually move something might snap.

After an age the forest seemed to relax. A bird chirped. Another answered. Something rustled in the trees, far enough away to be quiet.

Thomas forced himself to breathe out long and slow, resting the bow across his lap as he settled into the grass again. Taking his cue, Aris sat too.

Thomas looked over both of them, and again forced himself to swallow the restlessness burning in his system.

Was there anything worse than the endless waiting?

Eventually, as the air was taking on a faint, changing chill, they had to address the problems that were becoming more pressing as the hours passed. The sky would start dimming, soon. Probably had already and they just hadn't noticed.

It felt almost like his pocket burned, and it took a lot for him to ignore it. The energy bar was the only guarantee he had that Newt could eat when he woke. It had been so long since he had. Newt would need the nourishment in it to help hjis body fight the damage the TrackerJacker venom had wrought, however hard it was to ignore the faint hunger pain in his own stomach, to see the same written on Aris's face.

In the end he had to leave them in their hiding place to hunt. It took too long, each footstep in the opposite direction careful, cautious, regretful of the distance incase they needed him. The sky was greying when he finally returned, with nothing but a bird the size of his palm to show for the hours he'd been gone.

The kid was crouched by Newt when he got back, his hands capping the water bottle as he turned fearfully towards the sound of his arrival.

His young cash washed instantly with relief, shoulders slumping. He looked so young, so small. Thomas bit his tongue. What was there to say that could change it?

"I'm glad it's you," the quiet voice murmured as he followed Thomas to start helping with a fire, "I was starting to think that maybe-"

He gave a small and sheepish smile. Thomas did his best to look reassuring. The truth was that the food was dried up, like all the animals had just disappeared. He didn't voice the fear that they'd have to move in the morning. Closer to the centre, maybe. He knew there was food there, but what of the others? How would he manage to get in and look for food, while keeping the kid and Newt safe?

Why had Minho had to go?

Stupid. He knew why. It didn't make him feel any less desperate. He busied himself with pulling feathers, knowing that to cave into the thoughts of how ill-equipped he was was to admit defeat. One task, one step, one hour at a time.

"What's left?" he asked, instead, gesturing to the bottle Aris had been trying to give Newt a drink with.

The younger boy shook his head and bit his lip, looking to where it sat by the blonde's prone form.

"He made some noises, like he was waking. I got him to take a little, but he's still out of it." he glanced up at Thomas before back at the small fire he was trying to build. "There's a mouthful left, maybe." he answered quietly.

Thomas's gut clenched. He'd have to go. That wouldn't do them till morning. And Newt would need it if he woke.

"We'll get this done first." he sighed, "Have to get the fire out before it gets dark. The light is a real bad idea."

Aris nodded, staring at the stone in his hand with an unsettled expression on his face, like several were fighting for place.

"I could go." he offered, hesitantly, quietly, "I'm fast. You could stay with Newt. It wouldn't take long."

It seemed the surprised pause his proposal received was encouraging, for he looked up at Thomas and gave a weak smile.

"Aris… I can't ask you to do that."

"But I could." Aris said, eager-eyed, "I can. I won't do anything stupid. There and back. It'll be easy. I can do it."

Thomas grimaced, hating the idea. Hating every idea. Hating that it made sense, that it was one of very few options. Hating that it made sense to multitask, to get water while cooking too. To have both done by dark.

Aris was growing before his eyes, in confidence, his determination giving his green eyes a grown up sort of light.

"Anything, and I mean anything, and you run. Got that?"

Aris nodded, his lips in a grim line despite the smile that was there behind it.

"Yessir."

Thomas winced. Aris shuffled, flashed a grin.

"Kidding. I can do it, I know I can."

"Be safe." Thomas answered, watching Aris race to gather both bottles, his stomach so full of worry he could puke.

"I will." Aris answered, flashing him a broad grin meant to be reassuring.

With that he was gone, his small form vanishing quickly into the thick forest, and pretty soon Thomas couldn't even hear his footfalls no matter how hard he concentrated.

With a definite feeling of unease, he returned to the task of stripping the bird. There was very little to it, and even less of it meat. He'd give Aris what he could, for the kid could probably use it more than him.

The energy bar would have to be enough for Newt, when he woke. If he woke.