She can see the way the hoof prints begin to lead a path deeper into the forest. For a moment she lingers back, wondering what she should do. Should she follow the foot prints in search of the relic, or should she stay. There is a part of the warrior that knows her duty is to protect Denocte. Part of that Duty inevitably means ensuring the safety of those that she protects. In order to do just that, she needs to fight for the relic. She needs to be the one to ensure the safety of Kibou, of all the citizens of Night Court. Not only this, but to refuse to pine after the relic, she can be seen as nothing short of a coward, unwilling to take the risk. No Champion should ever appear weak. But then there is a part of her that knows it is dangerous, that she has something more to live for now. Kibou needs his mother to teach him. He needs to know how to be a medic so that he might follow in his father’s footsteps. Katniss could not do that if she were dead. And then she realizes why warriors are not meant to have children.

But in the end, she knows that Night Court will protect her son, even if she is no longer on this earth to do so herself. If her life is taken, she cannot help but grin at the thought that she might be reunited with Metaphor again, that she might one day feel her heart whole again.

And so, the silver black mare steps into the dense forest, intent to follow the crowd and the hoof prints. She can feel the way the vines tug at her feet and she is careful not to trip. Head hangs low as the canopy threatens to pull tufts of hair from her mane. But she continues, knowing that she must press on. She must continue forward for the safety of not only herself but of Night Court. She cannot let this relic fall into wrongful hands. She needs to ensure that it is not used irresponsibly.

By the time she comes to the clearing, she can see that she is not alone. There are many gathered, many faces from her own court. Camilia, Morrighan, August, Eik, Kassandra, amongst other faces that she has not met. She can see individuals from the other courts too but she knows that they cannot have the relic. There is no one she trusts more than herself.

So when the others step towards the relic, she too steps forward. She has to fight. She has to try.

Katniss is staying.

He stands on the island, feeling the way the ground shakes with anger, the way it begins to come alive after it had seemed to stand so still for so long. He watches with curiosity as the waves threaten to crash, the trees threaten to fall. But there is something curious about how the island is coming awake. It is almost as if it is coming awake but not yet completely letting go.

And then the hoof prints appear and he does not hesitate to follow. He does not know where they lead, but there is a part of him that wants to follow it, to see where it might lead them. Never does it occur to the stallion that it might be leading him towards his death. Never does he wonder if he might make it out of this alive or altogether changed. He simply follows, content to just see where it would lead him.

The underbrush is thick, the vines grasping his legs and pulling in the opposite direction. It terrifies him to think that he would never be able to outrun anything in this forest. The brush too thick, the air too stagnant. But he knows he’s not alone. To his left are others, following the same set of foot prints. But where do they lead?

His questions are answered just moments before and he looks out at the clearing. Upon a pedestal is a beautiful item, the relic, he assumes. He has no need for relics, no need for power or the chance to prove himself. But there is something that keeps him from turning around and heading straight back to Terrastella. He knows that this relic could potentially be used for greatness, but it also has the ability to be used for evil. There is a part of the tender stallion that knows he cannot allow such a relic to fall into the hands of someone evil. He knows that he must try, if anything to ensure that the relic is not used to hurt others. And so, as others charge forward, so does he.

Rhone is staying.

Sloane had always been a creature who thought of only herself. She never once cared how others felt about issues, how what she might say or do may hurt them. She didn’t care if she overstepped bounds or said words that broke the soul. She was a rough sort of creature, someone that people had a hard time getting to know or befriending. Sloane was a lone wolf, always had been and always would be.

But there was something that had drawn her to the island today, once the island seemed to roar back to life. It wasn’t the thought of a grand adventure or more riches than she could ever spend in a lifetime. Knowing that the relic was out there for the taking was more than enough to get her to return to the island.

Some sought out the relic to look for power in all the wrong places. Some sought it for the protection of others. Some wanted to use it, some wanted to destroy it. Sloane had no use for power or for relics. She only had use to knowledge and secrets. That relic could be sold for a price that many might be willing to pay. She could gain so many secrets that she would be rich with knowledge. She would be able to take down the greatest of kings with slander and rumors. The thought of all that she could do was enough to get her to step forward, to try her hand at gaining that most sacred item.

She followed the mysterious hoof prints, the ones that led her through dense jungle. While she wasn’t exactly a fan of the sweltering summer heat, she knew that potentially, such a risk could pay out well for her. And as she took each step towards the relic, she could not help the way her smile pulled even further at the corner of her lips.

By the time she reached the clearing, she couldn’t help the way her eyes lit up like Christmas morning. The relic was just sitting there, unguarded. And like many others that particular day, she too wanted it. And when everywhere began to charge, so did she.

Sloane is staying.