The camp was quiet, the usual chaos replaced by a heavy stillness. Grief clung to you like a shadow, threatening to swallow every thought. Octavia noticed the way you flinched at every sound, the way your hands trembled when you held a weapon.

“You’re not going to survive like that,” she said bluntly one evening, finding you sitting alone near the training grounds.

You looked up at her, pain and frustration in your eyes. “I don’t even know how to survive anymore.”

Her expression softened just slightly. “Then I’ll teach you.”