Kayla listened to Sage, but when Gale leapt into action again, she feld to the tent. She grabbed her bow and a set of arrows as well as her second dagger before darting into the forest and not turning back. When it came to fight or flight, Kayla fled like she always had. She wasn't a very good fighter, but she knew how to survive

Kayla kept running, sprinting, as fast as her legs allowed

Gale stood there, numb, staring at the bloodied knife in his hand. His chest still heaved from the panic, but everything around him felt distant. He didn’t know how to fix this. Didn’t even know if it could be fixed. His mind was a mess—thoughts scattered like broken glass.

The distant sound of Sage’s footsteps was already fading, leaving an aching silence that pressed in from all sides. Gale felt like he should move, should go after him, but his legs wouldn’t listen. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“God, what did I just do?” His voice was hoarse, low—more to himself than anything else.

He had to find Sage. He had to apologize. But even the thought of being near him again felt like something that might break them both in half.

He wiped his face with his sleeve, trying to pull himself together. His heart felt too big for his chest, and his stomach churned with guilt. He didn’t know how to undo what had just happened. He just knew he couldn’t let it stay this way.

“Please,” he whispered to the empty trees. “Please, just come back.”

Kayla slowed, panting but fearful and alert. "Holy shit" She muttered, slumping against a tree and pulling out a dagger just in case something happened. She slowly fell asleep

Gale stood frozen, the knife still clenched tightly in his hand. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his body trembling as the weight of the panic started to swallow him whole. The world around him began to blur, and his heart pounded in his ears like the beat of a war drum.

Then, out of nowhere, a whistle pierced the silence. The sound of it—sharp and clear—struck Gale right in the chest. It wasn’t a normal bird call. It was a bird, sure, but the sound—something about it—suddenly ripped him right back to the arena. The way the crowd had roared, the way the clang of metal had drowned out everything else. The way the whistle had sounded just before he’d stepped into that cage.

His chest tightened, his breath stalling, and everything around him seemed to collapse in on itself. The weight of it was suffocating, the flash of the past so strong that for a moment, he forgot where he was.

Gale’s legs wobbled, his vision swimming. His fingers tightened around the knife, ready to strike at anything. His body moved before his mind could catch up, instinctually pushing forward like he was back in the arena again.

Sage saw the change in him immediately. His eyes went wide, and before Gale could react, Sage was on him. He moved fast, too fast for Gale’s scrambled mind to process. One second, he was standing there, the next—Sage’s hands were around his neck, pulling him backward into a chokehold.

“Gale!” Sage’s voice was harsh, urgent, but there was no gentleness in it now. He needed to snap Gale out of this before it consumed him. “Focus! Look at me!”

Gale gasped, struggling for air, the world still spinning in his mind. He clawed at Sage’s arm, fighting to break free, but the pressure on his throat was cutting off what little breath he had left. His hands flailed, his heart pounding harder, faster.

No escape.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. The panic in his chest was screaming, and all he could think of was the arena—the way the air had been thick with blood and sweat. The whistle had sounded again—the same damn whistle.

Sage’s grip tightened, holding him in place. “Gale! Listen to me!” he barked. “You’re not there. You’re here. Focus on me!”

For a split second, Gale’s vision blurred completely, his body going limp in the chokehold. But then something in Sage’s voice broke through. A familiar, steady presence cutting through the fog. He had to focus—he had to find something solid to latch onto.

Gale’s mind snapped back to the present. He saw Sage’s face in front of him, the concern clear in his eyes, the hands still wrapped around his throat but not threatening anymore—just holding him steady.

Gale blinked rapidly, and then, in one motion, he managed to take a deep breath, shuddering as the air rushed back into his lungs. The world came back into focus, the panic starting to ease. His chest still hurt from the weight of it, but his thoughts were beginning to clear.

“Sage,” he gasped, his voice shaky, “I—shit—I’m sorry, I…”

Sage loosened his grip, but didn’t let go completely. “You’re fine,” he said, his voice softer now but still with a trace of tension. “Just... just breathe, okay?”

Gale swallowed hard, feeling the tremors in his hands start to subside. “I... God, dude, I... it was a bird. A freaking bird.” He shook his head, the laughter coming out in a burst of disbelief. “I’m such a retard sometimes.”

Sage’s hold finally loosened completely, and he took a step back, watching Gale carefully. The tension was still there in his posture, but the panic had lifted. “You good?” Sage asked, his voice a little gentler now, though there was still a hint of humor in it.

Gale chuckled weakly, rubbing his neck where the pressure had been. “Yeah... I’m good now. Just... hell, man.”

Sage raised an eyebrow. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had to choke someone out for their own good before.”

Gale snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, you don’t have to make a habit of it either. Not every time a bird decides to whistle.” He laughed again, a little more easily this time, though the nerves hadn’t completely left his voice. “I’ll be alright, just... need a second to stop feeling like a damn fool.”

Sage smirked, crossing his arms. “Well, you did nearly turn yourself into a human punching bag over a bird call.”

Gale rolled his eyes, but the tension had finally loosened, and the quiet that had fallen between them felt a little lighter now. He was still rattled, but the worst of it was over, and for the first time in a while, he allowed himself to just breathe.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gale muttered, giving Sage a small, apologetic grin. “I guess I’ll take the bird-whistle trauma out of the job description next time.”

Kayla slipped in and out of sleep, trying to stay alert but exhausted from running. She didn't know where she was running to, just knew away from whatever Gale had been in that moment with the wild look in his eye

Gale rubbed his temples, the panic finally fading, but the tightness in his chest still lingered. He tried to steady himself, but his mind kept drifting back to the sound of the whistle and the panic it had triggered. He could still feel the aftershock of it, but at least now he was somewhat in control.

Sage stood nearby, watching him, waiting for Gale to fully snap back into himself. There was a lingering silence between them, a heavy air that neither of them seemed to know how to break.

Gale glanced around, the woods still quiet, the night growing colder. Something gnawed at the back of his mind, something important that he couldn’t place.

“Hey,” Gale suddenly said, his voice hoarse from the panic. “Where’s Kayla?”

Sage paused for a moment, then sighed, his shoulders tensing slightly. “I don’t know, man. She was with us when everything started going south, but I haven’t seen her since... before the fight.”

Gale’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean, you haven’t seen her?”

“I mean, I haven’t seen her,” Sage repeated, his voice flat, as if it was a simple answer. “She disappeared right after... well, after all the chaos.”

Gale’s chest tightened again, but this time, it wasn’t panic. It was worry. A sharp, aching kind of worry. His mind was already running through worst-case scenarios. “Shit.”

Sage gave him a long look, his brow furrowing. He could see the fear creeping back into Gale’s eyes. “We’ll find her. We’ll figure it out.”

But Gale wasn’t so sure. A gnawing feeling was already spreading through him. He pushed his thoughts aside for a second, trying to focus on something more practical. “We can’t just keep waiting around for her to show up. We have to—” He stopped, an idea flickering in his mind.

“Wanted posters,” he muttered to himself, then louder, “We can make some. We’ll put them up around the area. She’s got to be somewhere nearby.”

Sage blinked. “Wanted posters?”

“Yeah. It’s not a bad idea.” Gale started pacing, trying to think it through. “I’ll draw a sketch. We’ll get some details on her, and we can hang them up around the forest—anywhere we might’ve missed her.” His eyes narrowed, determination flooding him. “She can’t be that far off. She’s probably hiding out somewhere waiting for us to find her.”

Sage exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright. Let’s do it. But... you sure we’re not just gonna attract more attention from whoever’s out there? What if they know who she is?”

Gale shook his head, trying to push the fear down. “We don’t have a choice, Sage. We have to at least try.”

The two of them set to work quickly. They found a piece of parchment and some charcoal, and Gale quickly sketched out a rough likeness of Kayla—her long, dark hair, the sharp curve of her jaw, and the color of her eyes. He added a description, writing down her name, height, and any distinguishing features that could help someone recognize her.

“Good enough?” Gale asked, glancing up from the parchment.

Sage squinted at the sketch, nodding. “Yeah, it’ll do.”

The two of them moved quickly, tearing the parchment into several pieces and hanging them up on nearby trees. As they worked, Gale couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, anxiety creeping back into his chest. The longer they searched for her without finding any trace, the harder it became to keep the fear at bay.

Once they’d posted enough around the area, they stopped and stood together in the clearing, staring at the signs. The woods around them felt ominous, the shadows of the trees growing longer as the evening light began to fade.

Gale ran a hand through his hair. “Now we wait.”

Sage nodded but didn’t say anything. Both of them knew the weight of the silence. They’d done what they could for now, but the worry about Kayla still sat heavy between them.

“Let’s just hope she sees them,” Gale muttered, his voice rough.

Sage clapped him on the back, trying to offer a sense of reassurance. “She will, man. We’ll find her.”

But even as he said it, both of them knew the longer they were out here, the more dangerous things became. They could only hope Kayla was close—and that, wherever she was, she was safe.

Kayla sighed, standing and walking further until she was nearly falling asleep while doing so. She sighed and slumped against a tree once more, almost immedietly falling into a nightmare. It wasn't Sage as Gale's opponent in this nightmare, but her. She didn't have any weapons as he held a dagger to her throat. She woke suddenly, gasping for air and shaking while her hand instictively moved toward her dagger. She sighed, dropping her hand and standing. She kept walking