"Yes, who...?" Enjolras cut himself off with a barely visible shake of his head. There would be time for that later, when they weren't potentially fending off a massive attack from every side. The grass was enough to make him paranoid enough for them. He didn't need the reminder of Combeferre's injury, or that his friend had needed saving. He thought of his own prior ventures in the Arena; rarely did meeting someone unknown end entirely well for anyone involved.

Enjolras tightened his grip, picking up a little bit more speed as he felt his friend able. If Combeferre started lagging, they could slow down again, but it was best they didn't remain out here for very much longer. "Weapons come from either the Cornucopia, sponsors, or what you can steal off the dead. Or what you can improvise from the Arena itself. If there are buildings again, there may be something. I certainly hope there's more to it than this field."