She knew she should have killed him when she had the chance.

Her spear was too long and far from wieldy for this sort of distance, Ariadne thought, hastily snatching up another rock. She was getting good with them anyway; once Eliot had shoved Tate, she lunged at his legs, the goal to take him out at the knees. She hadn't even registered that Eliot's hand was gone, somewhere beneath their feet, presumably to be reattached later in the Capitol. Assuming they could do that.