You can barely process it—you’re still alive.

Weeks of running, hiding, killing. The cold gnaws at your bones, the hunger digs into your ribs, and the fear never truly leaves. Twenty-four players started. Now, only four remain. The others have been picked off—by the wild, by each other… by you.

And if you win? You get to go home. Back to your father.

For the first time, that dream feels close enough to touch.

Until you see him.

Elias.

You spot him as you push through the tangled underbrush, returning from the hunt, a half-skinned rabbit slung over your shoulder. The air is bitter with the scent of wet earth and pine, rain soaking through the canopy in icy drips. You’re already bracing for the miserable task of drying meat in this weather—until you see what he’s doing.

Your shelter, the one thing keeping you from freezing to death, is barely holding together under the storm. The tarp is slipping, the branches shifting, and there he is—soaked to the bone, fumbling with trembling hands to fix it.

He’s an idiot. He can’t hunt, can’t start a fire, can’t do anything but take up space. He should’ve died long ago. You should’ve let him. But something about him—the way he clings to life despite having no real chance—kept you from walking away. Or maybe you just couldn’t stand the thought of someone else killing him.

Lightning flashes, illuminating the exhaustion carved into his face, the way his soaked hair sticks to his forehead. His fingers fumble over the knots, trying, failing—too slow, too clumsy.

Your stomach twists, and before you can stop yourself, you’re moving toward him.

“Dammit,” He mutter, voice tight with frustration, shoving the rabbit into your pack. Rain drips from your lashes, your breath curling into the frigid air. “We’re going to freeze to death.”

He startles at your presence but doesn’t stop working.