Winter leaves, feeling like she’s no longer needed.

Sorcha felt a pang in her chest when she’d killed him, and she’d followed the wolves carrying him as a fly so she could leave a note under his door telling him to meet her in the arena. She heads back to the arena to stare down a much larger male smirking at her. “Aw why’d you have to go and kill my fun, Red? I was just gonna challenge him.” Sorcha scoffs. “How [i]you’d[/i] kill him, Brit, well you’d never let him just die on you. You’d torture him, torment him until he’s scarred for all of his afterlives,” she snarls. “I just want my fights to last a little longer, is that so much to ask? Besides, it’s not like you’ve never done it before, [i]mamacita[/i].” Sorcha takes silent deep breaths to not let her anger show. 

Asa grunts, and she laughs a little. “We’ll finish this later,” she says as she feels her spirit leave her body; she’d bleeded out.