Justice is the one thing you should always find.

[the_marshal]

WHO| Wyatt, Maximus, and OTA
WHAT| Surviving in general, hunting down Aunamee in particular.
WHERE| Pretty much anywhere except the Compound.
WHEN| Tail end of Week 1, and Week 2
Warnings/Notes| They're trying to find Aunamee in order to kill him, so, yeah, there's that. Also, if you'd like one over the other, or them both, feel free to specify in Subject Line.



Max called it hunting. Wyatt's conscience prickled a bit at that, at first - he'd have preferred tracking - but he didn't quibble over it, and before too awful long, even the little whisper in his head fell quiet. There was no denying what they were planning on doing, and while they might be skipping a few steps there in the middle, he believed the result would have been the same even if this was a place for fair trials.

(And, truth be told, having already done it the once, it was easier to swallow the second time around.)

It needed to be done, and if the Capitol wouldn't, they would.

They traveled during the day. Max never complained, but the Roman was moving along at a noticeably slower clip. Wyatt never mentioned it, but he found excuses - as often as he dared - to pause, to give him a chance to rest and recuperate. The rain, heavy and hot and generally unpleasant, actually helped a fair bit in that respect. Deaf to all but the driving storm, all but blind, they had no choice, but to take refuge where they found it and wait out the downpour.

At night, they camped, taking turns in the bag, one watching over the other's back when the other slept. Waiting out the strange, alien calls of the dark jungle, for the sun to return.

Comments

[wantwhatiwant]

Ian and Blaine were also traveling through the storm, they had fallen silent some time before. Or at least Ian had. If Blaine had spoken then the words had been robbed by the wind and Ian hadn't heard them.

Ian spotted somewhere they could shelter and pointed at it, hoping Blaine would understand or be able to see at all. He stumbled towards it, wiping away water from his eyes and pushing his hair back from where it was plastered to his forehead.

He blinked however when he saw that the place he had spotted was already occupied, and he held his knife in front of him, putting up a hand to warn Blaine.

[shambler]

He misses talking. Somehow of all the things that could happen to him - his arm blown away by shotgun, for example - he'd never pictured losing half his face before. It doesn't hurt. But it aches in a wordless way he can't pin even if he could talk, aware of the phantom feeling of a lower jaw that was used to clenching and moving and being there. Reminding him he still had the body of a human even if the rest of him was rotted. One of the links left, like having all his arms and legs attached and a tongue that somehow, miraculously, remembered how to string words together.

Now even that's gone.

And...of course it rains. Of course.

R's still blundering away in the dark with his hair plastered tight to his skull. The rain lets up enough that he can sorta-kinda see where he's going without breaking his neck while he's at it. A ratty sleeping bag drags along the jungle floor covered in mud and God knows what, tattered beyond recognition. He'd planned to give it to Julie or Howard or someone, once upon a time. Now R's just holding onto it so he has something to do with his hands.

The biggest tip-off Wyatt has an intruder is the fact that all those strange animals hooting and chirping? They've gone quiet, that exact level of too-quiet when they think there might be a predator snooping around.

Vines

[gluteus]

They'd been making a good pace but there was no sign of Aunamee. Not yet. Not surprising, given how large the arena was - a single man could easily get lost within it for days, if not weeks. At least until the Capitol thought it was more interesting to force them together.

But for now, all Wyatt and Maximus could do was soldier on. Maximus was doing the best he could but even he noticed that they were taking way more breaks than usual. He didn't mention them - never thanked Wyatt outloud, as he didn't want to embarrass him, but whenever they stopped he would give a small shoulder squeeze or a little more of the rations. As silent a thank you as he could manage.

This time, though, as they stopped and quietly ate the last of the potato, Maximus was completely unaware of the tendril of vine slowly creeping around his prosthetic leg...