Kacper didn’t bother with the starting line. Didn’t so much as look at the tires. He had passed. The rules didn’t matter to him the way they mattered to others, and he wasn’t about to play soldier for a god that had never bled for him. Instead, he angled off the path, bypassing the course entirely to slip through the ropes and barricades until he reached the far edge of the obstacles. A place he could intercept. A place he could wait. His usual smirk was gone, stripped away like armor in the dark. In its place was something sterner, quieter—sharp eyes tracing each hurdle ahead like he could map the dangers in advance and blunt them before she hit them again.
Katryna channeled every jagged edge of her frustration into movement, each step a strike against the idea that she was weak, that she was static, that she was meant to be molded rather than allowed to grow. The tires no longer felt like a gauntlet designed to humiliate her. Her feet found the pattern with a fluency she didn’t have earlier, muscle memory settling into place without the migraine clawing at her skull like broken glass. Vision clear, breath steadier, she skimmed through the rubber with a rhythm that felt almost natural. Not effortless, not even close, but smoother, faster, like the course wasn’t a punishment but a problem she could, perhaps, solve.
The logs were less kind. She hopped from one to the next, arms flaring once for balance, breath catching as her foot slipped a fraction. But she didn’t fall. Didn’t feed the arena that satisfaction. Her jaw clenched as she finished the sequence, teeth grinding down on a sound that wanted to rip its way out. By the time she dropped to her stomach for the crawl, the grit of sand clung to her elbows, her ribs, her throat— coarse reminders scraping along her skin. She gritted her teeth and drove forward, chin tucked, breath harsh against the ground, every inch forward fueled by a singular, unspoken demand; This time counts. Even if no one but me ever knows it.
So when she stumbled to her feet at the rope climb, lungs straining, nausea lapping at her ribs like a tide threatening to rise again, she paused. Hands on her knees, she swallowed hard, focusing on the rope in front of her like it had answers embedded in the fibers. The world buzzed in her ears, vision tunneling just slightly. She was composing herself, readying for the climb, when Sloane’s voice cut through the haze like a hand breaking the surface.
Sloane was already out of breath and panting as she approached with her hands on her hips. Once she was in view she motioned to the rope with a heavy breath. "Go on. I’ll spot you." She laced her fingers together, bracing the back of her knuckles against her thigh as she crouched slightly. It wasn’t likely a boost would help much, but if it shaved a couple feet from the climb, it’d be better than nothing.
Kat looked up. Relief flared, brief and warm and startling. Sloane was winded, flushed, but here. Not a shadow in the course behind her. Not leaving her to her muted anger at the stupidity of this. Here. The relief twisted with guilt she couldn’t name, but she still let out a ragged breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. "You caught up," she breathed, voice threaded with surprise and something resembling gratitude. The offer, I’ll spot you, hit harder than Kat expected. People didn’t… usually offer. Not like that. Not without strings. Not unless it was Kacper. Her throat went tight around words she didn’t know how to form.
"Yeah, well—" Sloane’s chest heaved, struggling for breath and unlikely to catch it before they finished. "—Couldn’t let you run it alone."
Kat stepped forward, ready to move, when movement sliced into her peripheral. Kacper. Not through the tires. Not through the mess of obstacles. He carved a line straight through the course like it wasn’t even there—like barriers didn’t apply to him, because, she supposed, they didn’t. He reached them with an expression that hovered somewhere between annoyance and intent.
She stared at him—silent. He met the look with a shrug, half cavalier, half armor. "What?" he muttered, tone prickling with defensiveness even before accusation could form. "I passed. I can do what I want." His gaze flicked between them—their heaving breath, the rope, the course. His jaw worked. "So. Do you want help or not?"
Kat huffed, a sound that was not quite a laugh but not sharp enough to be a scoff. Her hands flexed once at her sides, grounding herself. The rope loomed above, daunting as prophecy. But with Sloane there and Kacper waiting, she felt that seed of resentment in her chest shift, unrooted, if only by a fraction. She placed her foot in Sloane’s laced fingers, fingers curling around the rope like she intended to climb all the way to the sky and tear the sun down with her teeth if she had to. "Thank you," she whispered to them both.
Sloane’s smile grew, warm and a fraction mischievous as Kat’s foot rested against her palms. "Who do you think guilted him into helping?" she whispered conspiratorially like it was a secret shared just between the two of them even though Kacper, without a doubt, could hear every word. She flashed him a quick, guilty smile that didn’t reach the genuine appreciation that glistened warm and thankful behind her eyes. To be fair, Sloane could have suffered through the course a second time on her own, but the way Kat stormed off, it seemed his sister was the real one in need of support. She just gave him… a gentle nudge.
After sucking in a deep breath, Sloane hoisted Kat up with all the strength she could muster… Which, arguably, was not very much. She was barely able to pick up Rocco on a good day, so trying to give a boost might not have been her best decision ever, but she tried… with a huff, grunt, and slightly trembling arms.
Kacper snorted—an unguarded, incredulous huff of laughter that slipped past the edges of his composure. Sloane’s arms were trembling before Katryna was even fully off the ground, and the sight of her, jaw clenched and shoulders straining like she was trying to hoist a small car instead of his sister, was… absurdly endearing. Before he could think better of it, he stepped in close. His hoodie brushed her shoulder, then his arms slid around her frame, hands fitting beneath her own as if guided by instinct rather than decision. "Looks like you need some help there, sweetheart." His voice was soft, little more than a gentle rumble against her back, but there was an unmistakable teasing lilt to his tone.
Together, their palms formed a cradle sturdy enough to lift with purpose. The push was fluid, his strength filling the gaps where hers faltered, her determination fueling the motion like a spark, and in that brief, suspended moment the heat of her back radiating through cotton and proximity almost broke through his facade. He felt the shape of her, slight but burning like a flint, something struck and striking. Then she was lifting, rising, and he released her as though the moment had teeth.
Sloane mockingly rocked her head at his snort, but then she felt the brush of his clothing against her back and she froze. Her measured breaths that had been slipping between gritted teeth escaped in a single startled exhale. Her gaze fell as she watched Kacper’s arm envelop her. The tips of his fingers brushed her thigh as he slipped his hands beneath hers, sending an unbidden flutter through her body. His words were a warm breeze across the back of her neck, tempting a subconscious shiver that she had to repress. While a part of her was racking her brain for a sarcastic response, remaining calm and unfazed took command of her willpower.
She followed his guidance, focused on lifting Kat up and nothing else… Not the way Kacper’s muscles felt rigid and strong around her or the way every breath he took made his chest press into her back or how there was a burning heat in her cheeks that she couldn’t fight no matter how hard she tried. The second Kat’s foot left her palms, he pulled away abruptly like Sloane was made of ice, so frigid that it burned. There was a temptation to look back at him, but she kept her gaze on the coarseness of the rope in front of her as she seized it in her hands to help keep it steady.
By the time Katryna scrambled her way up, inelegant as a startled cat but twice as stubborn, Kacper had already stepped back, posture loose and deceptively unaffected, as though he hadn’t just had his heartbeat spike against the confines of his ribs. He caught Sloane’s eye for a fleeting beat, smirk crooked and light as air. "Good job," he offered, voice smooth, casual, a half-laugh threaded through the syllables like he could pretend none of it meant anything at all. Above them, Katryna began her descent, shoes skidding once in a near-slip that sent his hands twitching upward on instinct before he smothered it. She landed breathless, shaky, and smiling, almost beaming at both of them as though nothing electric had passed in the space between. Oblivious to any tension, she grinned in the wake of her small victory, and Kacper only huffed a breath, pretending his pulse hadn’t changed tempo at all.
Sloane only turned to look back at Kacper when she could feel his gaze burrowing into the back of her head. Thankfully for her the only redness that remained across her pale skin could be chalked up to heat from running the course and nothing else… Because it was nothing. His words came out casual like they had been shared back in the stands and not after whatever that was. She clung to that, following his lead to try and find the baseline beneath her elevated pulse. Her eyes squinted, playful, mocking, desperate to find their normal—if it could be called normal after knowing each other for a single morning—repartee. "Be so for real, I didn’t do anything beyond moral support," she teased her own lack of strength as she dusted her hands off along her thighs.
Once Kat dropped down on the ground beside them, Sloane met her smile like nothing had happened, only sparing Kacper a brief sidelong glance before looking back at his sister. "You did good," she offered, soft but genuine, with a gentle pat to her shoulder.
Sloane sighed softly, staring down at her unblemished palms and then the rope before her. The last thing she wanted was to tear open the skin a second time, especially not when she was being watched so… intently. She climbed it once before, she could do it again. Just slower, more steady. Right. She sucked in a deep breath and took the rope in her hands, preparing to jump and make her ascent.
Kacper rolled his shoulders back like he could shrug off the last few minutes, drop them beside the rope with the spent sand and the echoes of their breathing. He cleared his throat, tone even and composed because nothing rattled him—at least, that’s what he’d always claimed and would continue claiming until the grave. His gaze flicked to Katryna, and something warm—not quite soft, but close—threaded through the words he offered her. "You did good,
młodsza siostra — little sister." The nickname slipped out, instinctive, the consonants gentle in his mother tongue. She beamed, exhausted and glowing like she could swallow the sun if she believed in herself hard enough. It made something in him unclench.
Then Katryna moved like she might step forward, arms rising awkwardly to help. Kacper’s hand shot out, palm braced against the air like a stop sign. "Nope. I’ve got it." The dismissal wasn’t unkind, just firm, making her eyebrows shoot up. He ignored her expression of amusement. Instead, he dropped into a crouch in front of Sloane, and the change in elevation felt sharper than the drop, knees pressing into sand, hoodie brushing his ribs as he leaned forward, arms lifting. His hands cupped where hers had been before. The muscles in his forearms flexed, not from strain but from intent, like he was preparing for something bigger than just a boost.
He looked up at her, one brow arched in a challenge that tasted like smoke and something saccharine left too long in the sun. "Come on," he smirked, nearly lazy, but his voice dropped low. "Don’t make me kneel here all day." He didn’t give her time to question it. His hands shifted, ready and steady, "On your count," he added, as though he wasn’t the problem.
Sloane had expected Kat’s help, preferred it, but it seemed Kacper had other plans. What those were exactly? She didn’t know. It was likely some show of how easy it was to lift them, or maybe he just didn’t want to wait through his sister struggling similarly to her. It had to be one of those and nothing else, at least that’s what she elected to believe. Regardless of his intentions, her hands tightened on the rope, wringing it like a washcloth until her knuckles whitened. Looking down at him there was a second where a thought nearly slipped out, sarcastic, jabbing banter, but it would have been laced with… something else. Something she couldn’t quite describe that would have colored her words in a way she never spoke. It was impulsive and out of character, and thank the Gods she was able to bite her tongue before they slipped out.
She sighed, sifting through whatever nonsense was going on in her head to get back to normal. It wasn’t that she slipped on a mask, but shut the curtain on her tumultuous thoughts, pretending like everything was completely normal, like Kacper was… Because it was normal. Her small smirk had an almost imperceivable crack of uncertainty as she looked down at him. "I don’t know… It’s nice feeling tall for once," she teased, but it fell on deaf ears as he shifted his hold preparing for her weight. "It’s fine. I did it once already—" Sloane started, but Kacper didn’t budge. She threw her head back and groaned. "You’re difficult," she grumbled under her breath with a frustrating, scrunched face as she lifted her right foot and placed it in his hands.
Kacper’s grin tilted, crooked as a blade turned in sunlight, sharp and teasing but softened at the edges by something unspoken. Her foot settled into his palms and he adjusted instinctively, hands sure and steady, like he’d been built for bearing weight that didn’t belong to him. He wiggled his eyebrows up at her, a pantomime of mischief that cracked the rising tension like a pebble skipping across the surface of a lake. Behind them, Kat snorted, voice dry as tinder, "You have no idea," and the comment landed like a stone tossed carelessly at his back.
He didn’t even flinch. Didn’t look away. Like his sister’s voice was background noise and Sloane was the only thing in frame. His fingers flexed once beneath her, a subtle test of balance, of trust. "Tall suits you, Thimble," he teased, voice low with humor, though the nickname landed gentler this time, less like a jab and more like a hand offered in the dark.
"Hmm," Sloane hummed, her smirk shifting from something cracked and sharp around the edges to a smile, soft, involuntary with a warmth that matched the heat that bloomed across her cheeks. She cleared her throat, gaze falling to her small sneaker half engulfed in his hands as she adjusted her placement for better stability.
"But trust yourself a little, yeah? You can handle a rope climb." He said it like a fact, not a question, like he had seen the rooftop she didn’t know she stood on and already knew she wouldn’t fall. The smirk lingered, but his eyes, bright, intent, startlingly clear, held something steadier. Realer. It felt like the first breeze after a storm. And then, as if the moment demanded it, his voice dropped, humor peeling back like a curtain tugged aside by invisible hands. "If you slip again…" The words unfurled slowly, deliberately, like each syllable needed room to become what it meant. "I’ll catch you."
No grin. No raised brow. Just a promise, simple, lethal in its sincerity. He might as well have carved it into stone with the edge of his breath. The world narrowed to the heat of his hands against the arch of her foot, the rope creaking above, sand shifting beneath his knees. He didn’t look away, not even when the weight of it settled like gravity between them. Kat lingered somewhere just beyond the moment, quiet for once, and Kacper held steady, her anchor or her cushion, depending on how she moved next.
His words hit hard in a way Sloane hadn’t expected, stopping her just before she pushed off. She looked back down at him, finding his gaze, intentional and unwavering, staring back up at her. For whatever reason she couldn’t explain, she trusted his words in a way that reminded her of the past, in a way that was startling in its sincerity. There was a pull to soften the silence that fell between them like it was weighted by lead, to make a comment or joke at her own expense, like his offering of support was misplaced. But something else silenced her, unable to taint the gentle olive branch he was offering her.
Sloane simply nodded her head while holding his gaze, tentative and uncertain, but trusting him nonetheless. She drew in a deep breath, preparing herself before turning her attention back toward the rope. Her hands shifted higher, grip tightening, and then finally, she leaned into the foot that rested in Kacper’s hands. She pushed off of him, trying her best not to hurt him when he held the brunt of her weight as her other foot slipped off the ground.
Kacper braced as she committed, the weight of her trust settling into his palms before the weight of her body did. When she pushed off, he rose with her, strength coiling through his arms, back, and shoulders like a rope pulled taut. He didn’t strain, not outwardly, but there was a grit to his jaw, a focus sharpened to a point. He lifted her higher than he had lifted Kat, higher than he probably should have been able to, the motion smooth and careful as though he feared any suddenness might break whatever fragile thing had sparked to life between them. His hands steadied her foot until she found purchase, until gravity shifted and she no longer needed him, though the absence of her weight felt strangely, suddenly cold.
She had expected a foot or two of advantage, nothing more, but Kacper continued to lift her, drawing a sharp startled breath from her. Sloane was given such height that her hands had to climb the rope to adjust to the unexpected elevation. Her gaze flicked down to him, wide eyed with a mix of emotions painted across her face: confusion, shock, awe, and something warmer, softer… like admiration. She cleared her throat, forcing her attention back to the task at hand. She quickly wrapped her left ankle around the rope, trying not to leave him suffering beneath her weight longer than necessary. The second her grip settled and the rope was secure between her thighs, she pushed off his hand, severing the connection of his support and started her climb.
He didn’t step back far. Didn’t move like a man finished. Kacper stood beneath the rope, body angled just so, knees loose and ready, the subtle brace of someone preparing to catch something precious before it hit the ground. His eyes tracked every inch of her ascent. Not with hunger, not with awe, but with a quiet vigilance. Dust clung to his hoodie. Sunlight skimmed the angles of his face. And still, he watched, like he could hold her steady with his gaze alone.
Katryna lingered beside him, breathing still uneven from her climb. She shot him a look, eyebrows climbing, expression somewhere between surprise and suspicion, as though she were finally seeing the shape of something she’d missed forming between them. She crossed her arms, hip cocked, watching her brother watch someone else with an intensity she hadn’t seen since, well… ever.
But Kacper didn’t look away to acknowledge her. Didn’t toss a joke over his shoulder, or puncture the moment with sarcasm like he so often did. His smirk, his easy arrogance, his arsenal of barbs, they all fell away, as though this silence deserved to stand untouched. There’d be something to say later, something teasing, something sharp and crooked to reset the ground beneath their feet. But not now. Not while she climbed. Not while she trusted him. For now, his voice was quiet, more breath than sound, barely rising above the sand and wind: “Keep going, Thimble.”
Sloane’s upper body strength might have been abysmal, but she had made the climb once, she could do it again. While she had the luxury of taking her time, the rope climb was the one obstacle where hesitation and a slow pace worked against her. Then there was her audience… Sure, it was less people watching her than before, but they were dozens of feet away observing her like a spectacle… Not beneath her with bated breath and ready hands to help her should she fail. There was a comfort in knowing that Kacper would catch her, but a determination to not falter. She didn’t want to fail, not again, not in front of them, not in front of…
Focus.
She drew in a deep breath through her nose as she continued to pull herself higher. Her form was still sloppy, like a newborn monkey clingy to its mother, not a seasoned athlete… or an amateur one at that. Her arms burned and trembled, and every other time she pulled her legs higher up the rope she lost her footing, but she didn’t rush or push forward without stability. Her head fell back, letting out an audible sigh when she reached the top and tapped the crossbeam with her hand. But her relief was quickly replaced with a new wave of dread as she looked down at the twins and truly noticed just how high up she was. "Fuck."
Sloane paused, just for a second, to catch her breath and try to settle her nerves. The descent was deceptively more complicated. It took a level of coordination she didn’t possess to lower herself smoothly without risk of slipping or losing her grip. It was only by sheer determination and will power that she managed to not slice open her palms a second time. Halfway down her hands were on fire and struggling to keep a secure enough grasp. She spared a glance over her shoulder… Fifteen feet. Fuck that’s too high to jump. Five more feet.
She gritted her teeth, lowering herself further with heavy breaths, sweat trailing down her scarred back, and fatigued muscles seconds away from giving out. Sloane looked down again, still high but not too high… hopefully. She quickly unwrapped her legs, double checked where Kacper and Kat were, then released her hold. She hit the dirt with a thud that stirred up a cloud of sand and sent a stinging pain that radiated up her feet. Her landing was surefooted, albeit a bit wobbly. Subconsciously she grabbed the closest thing for support and stability, which happened to be Kacper’s outstretched hand. Her skin, hot and coarse from the rope, contrasted his. She gave herself one beat, a single pause for one heavy breath, before she severed the connection with a sidelong glance and tentative smile.
"Thanks." The word was lost to the wind the moment it left her lips, but the weight still remained. She rubbed her hands together, while taking a small step backwards to look between the pair of them. Sloane overturned her hands, revealing her palms, flushed and angry, but still intact.
Katryna bent forward with her hands braced on her knees, breath coming in shallow pulls as she tried to steady the rolling in her stomach. The arena buzzed around them, movement tugging at the edges of her awareness whether she wanted it to or not. She caught sight of Tapeesa a few lanes over, running with a red-haired man at her shoulder—Tapeesa’s expression pinched, irritated, like the course itself had personally offended her… or maybe it was the man. She paused, head tilting… yes, definitely the man.
Beyond them, a dark-haired girl moved in tandem with the muscled blond Kat had noticed earlier, no longer shirtless, but still very much a spectacle whether he meant to be or not. Farther down, a blonde girl was speaking with someone else, and beyond them a redhead and curly haired girl were speaking quietly amongst themselves. Kat exhaled softly and tore her attention away. People watching could wait. Finishing could not, she refused to be here until mid-afternoon.
She turned back just in time to see Sloane drop the last stretch, the impact kicking up sand as Kacper leaned in on instinct, hands already there, already steadying her before the wobble could become a fall. Kat watched the way his body angled toward Sloane without thought, the way concern lived in the line of his shoulders even as Sloane pulled back a moment later. A small smile tugged at Kat’s mouth despite herself. “You did it,” she said gently, pride threading her voice as she nodded toward Sloane’s unbroken palms. “And without tearing yourself up this time, we’re thriving.” She snorted at the end of her sentence, amused despite herself.
"Low bar for thriving." A laugh, tired but lighter than the dust that stirred around them slipped out as Sloane looked back down at her unblemished palms. "But given the alternative, I’ll take it." The right side of her mouth curled into a crooked but unguarded smile.
Kacper huffed, straightening like nothing had happened, though there was something undeniably pleased flickering behind his eyes. He rolled one shoulder, gaze dropping briefly to Sloane’s hands before lifting again. “See? Didn’t even need me,” he said, tone sassy as ever, though it softened at the edges despite his best efforts. “Climbed it, dropped it, walked it off. Whole thing.” There was a beat, and then a crooked smirk. “Guess you’re tougher than you look, Thimble. Let’s get going, ladies, I’m looking forward to the pool.” He wiggled his eyebrows at them both, before turning away before Kat could smack him.
Sloane squinted as she gave Kacper a sidelong glance with knitted brows upturned in lighthearted confusion. "We’ll see how much I didn’t need you by the time I reach the end." She took a step forward, froze, held up a finger and half spun back around to face him. "We—" She motioned back and forth between herself and Kat to emphasize her correction, marginally frantic but it got the point across. "How much we didn’t need your help." Her nose scrunched as she turned back around and continued toward the next obstacle.
The rope bridge was one of the few obstacles that didn’t bother her too much, beyond the fact she had to do it a second time. Sloane didn’t bother waiting or hesitating when she reached it, carefully placing her right foot on top of one of the knots and stepping out onto the net. Her hands held the ropes on either side to keep her balance as she patiently made her way across, not sacrificing balance or form for speed. When she reached the end, she climbed up onto the platform then turned back to face Kat with an expectant smile. "Don’t think we’ll need to bug your brother for help on this one," she teased, sparing him a quick glance before crossing her arms lightly over her chest and leaning a shoulder against the wooden railing.
Kacper had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the laugh from spilling out at the sharp little choreography of Sloane’s hands, the frantic emphasis of her correction like she was warding off a curse rather than fixing her wording. His shoulders hitched anyway, breath escaping in a low huff that only barely passed for restraint. Then she scrunched her nose and turned away, already moving, already done with him, and that was it. The sound broke free, not sharp or mocking but warm, openly delighted, following after her and Kat like an echo that refused to be embarrassed into silence.
He shook his head, grin tugging wide and unrepentant, and peeled off from the course with an easy confidence, cutting around the rope bridge entirely. They wouldn’t need him here. He knew that much. So he went to lean against the next obstacle instead, arms folded loosely as he waited, eyes tracking their progress with an ease that didn’t dull his attention.
Katryna stepped onto the rope bridge behind Sloane with careful intention, every movement measured, deliberate. She remembered too well how her foot had slipped the first time, how the gaps between knots had reached up like teeth eager to bite. This time she took it slow, hands tight on the side ropes, breath steady despite the tremor in her legs. The net swayed under her weight, like a living thing that demanded respect.
She glanced up at Sloane and offered a shaky smile, something wry and tired but real. “I really didn’t realize I signed up for hard-labor fantasy camp,” she muttered, voice light but edged with disbelief, before rolling her shoulders and bracing herself to keep going.
"Don’t forget the petty High School drama. We have that on surplus here. Love triangles, hook ups, people just leaving in the middle of the night…" There was a slight shift at the end of what was supposed to be a lighthearted joke. A seriousness crept in and hung on the end of Sloane’s words like a chill she couldn’t shake. She drew in a sharp breath as she pushed off the railing and shifted to stand at the edge of the rope bridge. "Stand on the cross sections," she suggested, pointing to the next one Kat was about to step over. "It feels a little weird, but you won’t roll your ankle and slip into the holes."
Katryna’s nose scrunched immediately, an instinctive wrinkle of distaste that creased her expression at the mention of petty drama, like she’d bitten into something sour she hadn’t been expecting. She let out a short, incredulous huff through her nose, half laugh and half scoff. “I really thought this place would be… I don’t know,” she said, eyes flicking toward the distant sprawl of camp before returning to Sloane, “More mature? Or at least people pretending to be.” The snort that followed was quiet but genuine, the kind that loosened something tight in her chest.
Then she did as she was told, planting her foot squarely on the cross section Sloane indicated. It did feel strange, the rope taut and unyielding beneath her sole, but it held. Confidence followed quickly after, and with it more speed, each step more certain than the last, her balance settling into something steady and reliable. The bridge swayed, but it no longer threatened her.
She reached Sloane’s side in moments, breathing a little fast but triumphant, and flashed her a small, grateful smile that said thank you without needing the words. Ahead of them, Kacper waited by the end rope swing, posture loose, hands resting on his hips as he peered down at the dark water below with narrowed eyes and unmistakable suspicion, maybe even a little disgust. The surface rippled faintly, reflecting light in a way that promised nothing pleasant. He looked unimpressed with it, borderline offended, even, but made no comment about how long they’d taken, only lifting his gaze when they drew closer, expression settling into patient, watchful ease.
Sloane returned the smile, just as small and soft, but speaking the same unspoken language in response. She slowly turned around on the platform walking up to one of the openings in the railing where the rope waited, resting in a small hook. After taking the rope in her hand she pivoted slightly to look over at Kat. "It’s a camp full of young adults without supervision. I might be the most mature person here," she commented, continuing their conversation. It wasn’t until she actually said it that she realized there probably was some truth in her words. There weren't many people at camp that she would consider as mature. Duke might have lived in the mature bubble too… If he was there.
As her thoughts drifted toward him, Sloane couldn’t help but turn around slightly, scanning the crowd that remained in the stands or was scattered about the course… But he wasn’t there. She had hoped Sylas’s words were only to get under her skin, but the more time passed, the longer Duke, Ace, Elysium and Anatoliy were gone, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. And worse still… Her gaze drifted across the pool of dark water to where Kacper waited, and then towards Kat who stood beside her. Would they disappear too?
Before she could let the thought take root and fester into something she couldn’t handle, not right now, she held out the rope toward Kat. "Did you want to go first?"
Katryna hesitated, fingers hovering just shy of the rope as if it might bite her again for daring to exist. For a heartbeat she considered shaking her head, letting Sloane take this one first, but resignation settled in her shoulders instead. They slumped, a quiet surrender. It would be better just to get it over with. “Yeah… I can,” she said, the words edged with reluctant resolve rather than confidence. She took the rope from Sloane, its coarse fibers warm from waiting hands, and stepped back a few paces to give herself room. Her jaw tightened as she tested the weight once, twice. Under her breath, almost like a curse meant to ward off fate, she muttered, “I never want to touch another rope as long as I live.”
Then she ran. Not fast, not graceful, just determined. The edge of the platform vanished beneath her feet and the world tilted as she swung out over the water, knuckles whitening as she clung to the rope like it was the only solid thing left in existence. The arc carried her through, breath stolen by the rush, and when her feet finally scraped the far side she stumbled forward, momentum threatening to pitch her flat on her face. A strong hand caught her instead, Kacper’s grip firm and sure, one hand steadying her shoulder while the other snagged the rope mid-swing. He grinned down at her, all easy triumph and brotherly pride, before giving the rope a sharp, practiced shove that sent it sailing back toward the platform for Sloane. Kat exhaled, shaky but smiling, grounded again, if only because he’d been there to make sure she didn’t fall.
A soft applause echoed across the pool of water from where Sloane stood on the platform. When the rope came swinging back toward her, her hands fumbled, and there was a moment where she nearly lost balance over the edge but she caught herself on the railing. She laughed nervously at her own clumsiness and promptly took a couple steps back. Her hands gripped the rope tight, wringing it twice before running toward the edge and jumping. Like the first time, she made it across the pool fairly easily, but dropped too soon. She landed on the edge, her toes on the earth while her heels dipped over the side. There was a fraction of a second where she was steady before her weight shifted and her body began tipping backwards toward the water. Her eyes went wide and arms started to flail as she attempted to regain her balance, but gravity was faster, consistent, and far more coordinated than she was.
Kacper was already smiling when her feet touched down, that crooked, reflexive grin that surfaced before he could stop it, before the world reminded him it had teeth. For a breath she was upright, victorious in that small, scrappy way that suited her, and then he saw it; the subtle betrayal of balance, heels dipping, center of gravity slipping past the point of forgiveness. Time did that strange stretching thing it liked to do when it wanted to be cruel. Her arms flailed, eyes wide, the water behind her dark and waiting, and something in his chest snapped tight as wire.
He moved without thinking. No commentary, no sarcasm, no time for cleverness. Just instinct. He surged forward, boots skidding on damp earth, one hand closing around her wrist with certainty while the other wrapped around her middle, pulling her hard and fast into him, away from the edge, away from the cold shock of the pool. The motion knocked the air from both of them, her chest bumping into his chest as he anchored his weight and let gravity settle where it belonged.
A low chuckle slipped from him then, unforced and grounding, the sound vibrating against her like a reassurance he hadn’t planned on giving. He loosened his grip just enough to be polite, but not enough to risk it happening again. “Careful,” he murmured, voice close, quieter than his usual bravado. “I’m running out of dramatic saves for the day.” The smirk was there if she looked for it, but beneath it was something steadier, something that lingered a second longer than necessary before he finally let go.
Once again Sloane’s clumsiness all came down to swift action from Kacper. She was equal parts thankful and embarrassed, although it was more of the latter as she was pulled firmly against him. Their chests pressed together, every breath out of sync with a chaotic cadence. While he was focusing on steadying them and turning her from the edge of the pool, her mind twisted with a frantic efficiency, clocking and noting… everything: his hand on her wrist, his other arm curved around her, the lack of space between them, the warmth of his breath against her forehead, the growing heat that bloomed across her cheeks, and the overwhelming awareness that Kat was only a handful of feet away and likely watching it all.
Then he chuckled and made a joke which snapped her out of her panicked overthinking, and grounded her, in its own weird way. A laugh burst forth, unguarded and nearly like a scoff, curving the corners of her lips into a weak and faintly self deprecating smile. Her breath fanned across his neck, warm and uneven, before she took a small step backwards to look up at him and create some semblance of normalcy through space. "I hate to break it to you, Heathcliff, but I’m clumsy." Sloane found comfort in their laughter and the smirk he wore like armor, able to slip back into their banter rather than focusing on… anything else that promptly needed to be locked away. "You’d be better off accepting that I’ll eventually fall." Her hand raised of its own volition and gently patted his chest, reassuring yet playful in its ease.
Sloane cleared her throat, quickly pulling her hand away once she realized what she’d done and started making her way toward the next obstacle. She flashed Kat a faintly guilt laced smile as she walked past and approached the balance beams. Rather than overthinking it or putting herself in another situation where she’d need help from her reluctant hero, she immediately started up the incline without any hesitation. Her arms extended and rose by her sides like delicate wings, flapping and moving to keep her balanced as she stepped one foot in front of the other. When she reached the decline she jumped down, stumbled a couple feet but managed to steady herself easily… enough.
Kacper snorted at her declaration, the sound short and rough with amusement as he straightened fully, rolling his shoulders like he hadn’t just considered jumping into that small pool of water after her if she’d fallen in. “Great,” he said dryly, watching her with that familiar crooked look, half challenge, half fond disbelief. “Then I’ll start keeping count. Dramatic saves, I think they’ll have a fee.” He let that hang there, suspended between them like a thread pulled tight, mouth twitching as though he might leave it unfinished on purpose. Then, casually, too casually, he added, “Coffee. Lots of it.”
But when she turned away, when her warmth moved with her and the space she left behind cooled too quickly, something unsettling shifted in his chest. Kacper lifted a hand without thinking, rubbing at the side of his neck where her breath had brushed him only seconds ago, fingers lingering there like they might find an explanation written into his skin. His brows knit together faintly, confusion threading through the usual sharp edges of his thoughts. It was stupid. Chemical. Adrenaline. Proximity. Anything but what it felt like—his heart doing small, traitorous flips against his ribs, as if it had forgotten its job was to stay armored. He scowled at the ground, annoyed at himself more than anything, then looked up again just in time to see her step onto the balance beams.
Katryna, meanwhile, had already caught on to something neither of them were brave enough to name. She flashed Sloane a slow, knowing grin as the girl passed her, all quiet mischief and soft confidence, the kind that suggested she’d just been handed a secret and planned to keep it warm. Then she followed, careful and light-footed, arms lifting as she mounted the incline. The beam wavered beneath her once, just a small betrayal, but she recovered with a sharp inhale and stubborn focus, feet finding their rhythm again. When she reached the decline, she jumped cleanly, landing steady, a little breathless but upright, eyes already flicking ahead toward Sloane with something like shared momentum.
Behind them, Kacper watched both girls move forward, jaw set, pulse still traitorously loud in his ears.
"Almost done," Sloane said with a weak smile, doing her best to reassure Kat, and herself. She was starting to run out of steam and wanted nothing more than to leave that damn arena. Running an obstacle course a second time was one thing. It didn’t compare to the embarrassment, or whatever emotions she couldn’t explain that boiled up and tinged her cheeks whenever she needed—how did he word it?—a dramatic save? The last thing she needed was another protector getting themselves wrapped up in the chaos of her life. It wasn’t fair to him or anyone else. Her burdens were her own to carry, no matter how heavy. She didn’t need to scare away more people like she did with Liam. It’d just be better… for everyone if he remained the grumpy brother to her friend… over there.
Sloane approached the side of the pool and looked down at the crystal clear water with her hands on her hips. The flush that touched her pale cheeks was persistent, fading much too slowly as she glanced back over her shoulder at them. Her gaze landed on Kat before jumping to Kacper. "Weren’t you the one looking forward to the pool?" She pointed at the water lazily as a small, reluctant smile teased to life against her better judgement. It seemed she wasn’t the best at taking her own advice. Her head shook imperceptibly and she knelt down, scolding herself internally as she started unlacing her shoes. There was nothing worse than soggy feet and while she assumed River would be kind enough to dry them a second time, she wasn’t in a rush. So she took the time to remove her sneakers and socks, then set them aside.
Without any flair, Sloane approached the side of the pool, pushed off the edge with her bare feet and dove into the water. She transitioned into a casual freestyle, stroking here and there but generally let the momentum carry her for several feet in between. The cool water was a nice reprieve from the sweat and exhaustion of the course… and helped drain the heat from her face that was determined to linger without welcome. When she reached the opposite side, her arms rose out of the water and crossed along the edge. Her chin lowered until it rested on top of her hand and her eyes slowly closed. She wasn’t in a rush to get out, content to enjoy how the water soothed her muscles as she waited for them to finish.
Katryna trailed after Sloane, slower now, the fight leeched out of her limbs and replaced with a quiet, bone-deep tiredness. She knelt at the edge of the pool and worked her laces loose with clumsy fingers, slipping off her shoes and socks and lining them up with unnecessary neatness, as if order might make the rest of the world behave. For a moment she only watched Sloane cut through the water, dark hair fanning like ink, body finally unburdened by gravity. Then Kat inhaled, soft and steady, and followed.
She dove cleanly, no splash worth noting, arms stretching forward as she slipped into a gentle freestyle. The water greeted her like a held breath finally released—cool but kind, almost warm really, weightless without being cold. Her muscles loosened in slow increments, tension unspooling from her shoulders, her spine, the place behind her eyes where pain liked to nest. She swam lazily, unhurried, drifting closer until she surfaced beside Sloane, chin breaking the surface with a small ripple. For a few strokes she closed her eyes.
It felt like home.
Not truly, not entirely, but close enough that her chest tightened anyway. Pool at dusk. The sound of insects. The smell of wet earth. Meadowsweet blooming under her window. If she pretended hard enough, she could almost believe she’d wake up there instead of in a camp carved from prophecy and bone. She exhaled slowly, pushing away the dream she’d had about this place, about some of these campers, water lapping at her jaw, and opened her eyes again.
Behind them, Kacper was already grinning like a boy who’d just been handed permission to be reckless. He stripped off his shirt without ceremony, kicked his shoes aside, and sprinted the last few steps before launching himself into the pool in a cannonball that sent water exploding skyward in silver arcs. The splash echoed off stone and sand.
Katryna flinched at the wave, blinking water from her lashes, then turned her head slowly toward him with the long-suffering expression of someone who had survived childhood alongside a natural disaster. “Gods,” she muttered flatly, water dripping from her hairline. “It really is just like home.”
Kacper surfaced a second later, slick hair plastered to his forehead, laughing under his breath as he wiped water from his eyes. He shook his head once, sharp and unapologetic, spraying droplets like a mutt fresh from a riverbank. “You’re welcome,” he said, voice bright with victory. “I bring realism to every environment.” He leaned back against the pool’s edge, arms braced, shoulders gleaming with water and heat, grin still crooked and alive. “Admit it,” he added, glancing between the two of them. “You’d miss the chaos if I wasn’t here.”
Katryna snorted softly through her nose, rolling her eyes, but she didn’t move away.
Sloane heard him run toward the edge of the pool but still wasn’t braced for the splash of water that sprayed against the back of her head and startled her. It was a small flinch, one she could easily play off as shock rather than anything else, but she still felt the cold wave that shot up the back of her neck and chilled her blood. She slowly lifted her chin from where it rested on her crossed arms, finding her head felt heavier having to hold it up once again. She tilted back just enough to look around Katryna toward her brother who was acting like it was a relaxing day at the pool and not a miserable military agility course.
"It all makes sense now." She shook her head slightly, the sarcasm more apparent in her facial expression than beneath her tone that was starting to reflect her own exhaustion. "It’s like an Eris curse. I attract chaos." Sloane didn’t elaborate further knowing it would only ruin the joke if she had to explain it. Honestly in the small amount of time she had known Kacper, he seemed rather mild in the realm of chaos. But perhaps she was used to the chaos… or chaotic people like Sylas and her mother. It had a way of skewing her perspective. But when she ran over the list of people who found their way into her life, chaos always followed. Perhaps it was them, or maybe… just maybe it was a force that hovered in the air around her, tainting anything that got too close. A quiet and brief chuckle murmured behind her closed lips at the irony of it all, which could also be seen as her laughing at her own joke.
Sloane then braced her hands against the edge of the pool and hoisted herself up. Her arms, fatigued from the strain of training, trembled traitorously beneath her weight. She just barely managed to lift her leg and slip her knee over the edge before her elbows buckled. "Fuck," she cursed under her breath before raising her other leg and forcing herself to her feet. Water dripped from her body, leaving behind a trail of darkened sand and foot prints in her wake as she circled the pool back to the start. She stopped beside her shoes, looking down at them like they had done her a great offense existing on the ground. It was tempting, too tempting, to let herself sit and slip them back on. But that was a slippery slope and she knew once she found comfort on the ground, getting up would be impossible. Instead she did the awkward hop as she tugged socks over sand covered soles, then shoved her feet back into the shoes.
Kacper lingered at the pool’s edge a moment after Sloane exited, water still sliding from his hair in thin clear threads. He watched her go with an expression that tried very hard to be casual and failed in the quiet ways that mattered. Then he glanced sideways at his sister and waggled his brows, mouth already pulling into something insufferably pleased with itself.
“So,” he said lightly, stretching the word out like taffy, “does that mean she thinks I’m attractive?”
Katryna didn’t even look at him at first. She simply shut her eyes, drew in a slow breath through her nose, and then turned her head with the long-suffering patience of someone who had shared a womb with this man. “I think,” she replied flatly, barely resisting the urge to splash him in the face. “She’s more likely to think you were dropped on your head as a baby.”
Sloane slowly walked the length of the pool a second time, heading for that dreaded log ladder. It somehow seemed far taller and more imposing the second time. Stopping to stand beneath it made her heart sink and her stomach churn violently. She recalled her fall, the way it violently stole the air from her lungs and rattled her teeth. Gods, she prayed it didn’t happen again. Sloane didn’t need more ‘dramatic saves’ clouding her mind. Not in a huge rush to make an enemy of gravity, she waited patiently for Kat to join, however long that took. When the raven haired girl stepped up beside her, she looked over at her with a wary smile. "So… Do we just… tackle this together?" she asked, uncertainty tinging her words.
Katryna pushed herself out of the pool with a small, undignified grunt, water streaming from her clothes as gravity reclaimed her. Her limbs felt heavier on land, bones remembering exhaustion all at once. Wet fabric clung in all the wrong places as she padded back to her shoes, muttering dark, irritated curses in Polish under her breath while she forced damp socks over sandy feet. By the time she straightened, shoes half-laced and posture already slumping with preemptive defeat, Sloane was several steps ahead toward the log ladder. Katryna followed, slower, shoulders rounded, the earlier fire replaced with a weary resignation that settled deep in her ribs.
When she reached Sloane’s side beneath the looming shadow of the ladder, she tilted her head back to take in its height, lips pressing into a thin line. “I guess,” she said, voice tired but dryly practical, “but if I fall, don’t try to catch me.” A faint, crooked smile that was similar to her brothers tugged at her mouth as she glanced toward the pool they’d left behind. “Kacper isn’t strong enough to carry both of us back. So only one of us is allowed to take a tumble.”
The thought of Sloane attempting to catch anyone made a quiet cynical laugh build in her chest while she looked up at the ladder. "Yeah, if I fall… just let me die," she replied with a dry sarcasm as she placed her hands on the lowest rung, and hoisted herself up with a grunt. Once her stomach was braced against the log, she swung one leg to the other side and pushed herself upright so she was seated, straddling the wood. "Take care of Rocco when I’m gone," she added with a wary chuckle, gaze drifting toward Kacper as he approached.
Katryna snorted despite herself, the sound torn loose from her chest before dignity could stop it, and tipped her head back to squint up at Sloane perched on the log like a doomed gargoyle. There was fondness in her eyes, buried under exhaustion and grit and the shared misery of sore muscles.
“Absolutely not,” she muttered, voice dry as ash. “If you leave me alone with him, he’ll be insufferable for the rest of our lives about how you tragically fell to your death.” One corner of her mouth twitched. “So no. If you go, we both go. Suicide pact.”
"What?" Sloane laughed softly, looking down at her with an expression that was equal parts confused and amused. "I highly doubt an annoying girl he knew for a single morning would stick with him that long." Her gaze drifted toward Kacper like a silent plea for him to back her up, but when she met his gaze there was a weird pang in her chest that whispered some truth she ignored. She cleared her throat, quickly looking back over at Kat. "I think if I got you killed he’d find a way to haunt me in the afterlife."
As if summoned by the insult, Kacper was already making his way toward them, cutting across the sand with lazy strides. His hoodie hung loose in one hand, darkened with water, while his shirt clung to him like a second skin—thin fabric outlining the lines of his stomach and shoulders, still slick from the pool. He looked annoyingly unbothered, hair damp, expression easy. “Wow,” he called as he approached, lips quirking, “I risk my life once and suddenly I’m reduced to emergency transportation.”
Sloane waited patiently for Kat to join her, legs swinging lazily on either side of the long while her fingers idly picked at splinters in the wood. "I think the point is for you to not risk your life over a stupid obstacle course," she mused with a tired smile, looking down at him from where she was perched. The rope climb was one thing, but this ladder was daunting and far taller. Gravity was a fickle mistress and one tumble could send one or more of them straight to the infirmary and into the healer girl’s care… again. "You are hereby demoted to cheerleader, Heathcliff." Her smile grew, just a fraction, before she turned her gaze upward. She grabbed hold of one of the rising supports and shifted to her feet. Then she hooked her arms over the next rung, prepared and waiting.
Katryna followed Sloane up the ladder with the stubborn devotion of someone who had already decided that quitting at this point would be useless. The first rung stole her breath, the second set her arms trembling in open rebellion. By the third, her jaw was clenched hard enough to ache, shoulders burning, muscles quivering like overdrawn bowstrings. She climbed anyway, inelegant, slow, stubborn as winter. A low, aggravated sound crawled out of her chest as she hauled herself level with Sloane, forearms shaking as she braced against the wood.
“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” she muttered darkly, more to the log than to anyone else, coming in short, irritated bursts. She inched higher, shoulder brushing Sloane’s, offering a sideways look that was half misery and half camaraderie.
Below them, Kacper stared up, water still clinging to his hair and collar, hoodie twisted in one hand like a surrendered flag. His face pinched in immediate, theatrical offense. “Excuse you?” he sputtered, gesturing vaguely at himself. “I’m not sure if I should be more insulted by being demoted to cheerleader or—” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing as the second half of her sentence finally caught up to him. A beat passed. Then another. His mouth twisted. “…No. No, it’s definitely the Heathcliff part.” He shook his head slowly, solemn as a man betrayed by literature itself. “That one hurts.”
Katryna snorted despite herself, the sound sharp and helpless and entirely unladylike, nearly losing her grip for half a second before catching herself again. Her laughter echoed thinly against the wood and open air, brittle but real, and for just a moment the ladder was not an enemy, the arena not a punishment, only the three of them suspended in sweat and effort and ridiculousness, held together by shared suffering and the fragile, foolish relief of not facing it alone.
Sloane climbed alongside her, pulling herself up with trembling muscles and pushing off with unsteady footing. When Kat laughed, she mirrored it briefly before quickly reaching out a hand to grab her arm when it looked like she might have lost balance. Sloane’s laugh shifted to something a little more nervous and thankful considering she wasn’t doing very well with that whole ‘don’t try and catch me thing.’ Her own foot slipped but thankfully her hold was sturdy enough she was able to situate herself before continuing to climb once again.
When she reached the top, Sloane straddled the top rung and gave herself a second to catch her breath before attempting the precarious downward descent. "Do you even know who Heathcliff is?" she called down to where Kacper watched and waited. It wasn’t until she how small he was standing below them that she noticed how high up she truly was. Her head immediately began spinning and her stomach flipped. She quickly straightened, gripping the log tight between her thighs and bracing her palms against the wood. Her eyes snapped shut as she tried to center herself with steady breaths in her nose and out her mouth. "Stupid heights," she muttered under her breath.
Katryna managed a crooked, breathless smile when Sloane’s hand shot out for her arm, fingers closing in with instinctive certainty. The contact steadied more than her balance; it anchored the tight, rattling place in her chest where panic liked to coil when her body betrayed her. She swallowed, nodding once in quiet thanks before forcing her attention back to the climb, the grain of the wood beneath her palms, the rough scrape against her knees, the slow, tidal burn in her shoulders that rose and fell with each breath. Still, she couldn’t help the soft huff of amusement that slipped out of her.
“That’s… really not very suicide-pact of you,” she murmured up at Sloane, voice thin with exertion but threaded with warmth. “I thought we agreed—dramatic, tragic, very inconvenient for Kacper.” The joke was gentle, deliberately clumsy, offered like a small bridge between them as she climbed another rung. Her arms trembled, lungs burning, but she kept moving, stubborn as frost creeping over glass, letting the rhythm of effort drown out the height, the fear, the way the world seemed to tilt too far away beneath her boots.
Below them, Kacper prowled the base of the ladder like a restless shadow, eyes never still, tracking every shift of their weight, every tremor in their hands. When Sloane called down, his snort cut through the air, sharp and unmistakably his. “Of course I know who Heathcliff is,” he called back, folding his arms only to unfold them again a second later, unable to settle. “Do I look illiterate?” A beat passed. He tilted his head, considering, then scowled faintly at the thought.
“Don’t answer that,” he added, voice dry, almost pleading beneath the sarcasm. “You’ve bruised my ego enough for one day.”
The smile he wore after that was light, practiced, an easy curve meant to pass for humor, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Those stayed sharp and vigilant, pale and intent, following the line of their bodies inching higher against the sky, his heartbeat ticking too loudly in his ears as if it were counting their steps for them.
Sloane waited on the top log, hands pressed tight against the splintering wood as she let Kat start her descent first. She thought it was best if they alternated lowering themselves, to limit them both falling at the same time… if possible. Once Kat was down a rung, Sloane slowly swung her leg to the other side, gripping the log tight as she stretched and swung her foot until the tip of her toes found the next step down.
She couldn’t help but snort at Kacper’s comment, which almost made her lose her balance, but thankfully her hold was secure enough that she didn’t fall. She rested her chin against the wood for a second to calm her racing heart and catch her breath. "Brooding, dark… grumpy. I don’t see the issue," Sloane called back down to him but didn’t risk sparing him a glance. One look down had made her head spin, the last thing she needed was to get dizzy. No amount of dangerous saves could make that fall less deadly.
The remaining descent was slow and paced. Sloane paused while Kat lowered herself another step and then she followed. She was too short to lower herself with confidence, having to loosen her hold and extend a leg beyond her comfort to find the next level. More than once she slipped and more than once she swore that was it. Her arms were trembling, existing somewhere between numb and burning. It grew more difficult to get a secure hold with every rung. By some miracle of persistence or perseverance she made it two logs from the bottom, the fatal step where she fell on her first attempt.
She was far slower on those last two rungs, like she didn’t trust them not to betray her when she was in the home stretch. But standing on the last log, five or so feet above the ground, Sloane was too relieved to be so close to finishing that she didn’t care about grace. She half slipped, half jumped backwards, landing with a thud that stirred up the sand and dirt around her. She teetered there for a second or two before her momentum tipped her backwards and she fell on her butt with a soft oof. Rather than hurry to her feet, Sloane just laid back, letting gravity have her victory. She draped one of her arms over her eyes to block out the sun and the looming presence of the ladder overhead. Her chest heaved as she struggled to draw in enough air, while dust and grit clung to her sweat dampened skin.
Katryna descended like a prayer whispered through clenched teeth, slow, deliberate, threaded with quiet curses that slipped free each time the ladder shifted beneath her weight. Her hands burned; her arms trembled with the thin, reedy fatigue that lived somewhere between pain and surrender. Every rung felt carved from doubt. Still, she kept one shoulder angled toward Sloane, one eye always flicking upward or down, gauging distance, timing her movements so they would never be vulnerable at the same moment. When Sloane’s foot slipped, Kat’s breath caught sharp in her chest, and her fingers flew out on instinct, brushing fabric, steadying where she could.
“Damnit, this thing is cursed,” she muttered under her breath at one point, voice thin with strain, then softer, almost embarrassed by her own fear.
Step by step, splinter by splinter, they traded gravity for stubbornness. Kat’s lungs burned like paper touched by flame, but she would not rush, would not leave Sloane alone in the worst stretch of it. When Sloane finally dropped the last few feet, and landed in the dirt with the wind knocked from her, Katryna scrambled the final rung with shaking legs and hit the ground moments later, knees buckling as relief rushed through her too fast to be graceful. She turned at once, dropping to one knee beside Sloane, breathless, sweat-streaked, eyes bright with the fragile disbelief of survival.
Waiting for them at the bottom, Kacper had watched the descent like a man counting heartbeats instead of seconds, muscles coiled tight as wire, jaw set hard enough to ache. Only when both their feet were on the ground did he finally exhale, slow and controlled, as if he’d been holding his breath since they started down. He stepped closer, eyes flicking once over Sloane’s sprawled form to make sure she was truly intact before his mouth curved into something like a smirk.
“For the record,” he said dryly, voice pitched just loud enough to reach her beneath her arm, “Heathcliff is terrible.” He gestured vaguely with one hand, as though dismissing the entire literary canon. “Moody, obsessive, emotionally constipated. Absolute disaster of a man.” A beat. Then, softer, more thoughtful than he probably meant to be, “You can do better than that.”
Katryna snorted despite herself, scrubbing a dirty hand over her face, exhaustion finally winning its small, private war as she settled onto the ground beside Sloane.
Sloane slid her arm back, squinting her eyes while using her forearm and hand to block the sunlight that haloed Kacper as he spoke to her. She couldn’t help but laugh at his assessment of Heathcliff. Of course she didn’t know him very well, but he wasn’t saying he wasn’t Heathcliff, just that Heathcliff was a horrid person. Her giggle was soft and frayed around the edges from exhaustion, but she couldn’t help but find his final comment even more poignant.
She gave herself a few more seconds to rest but not to the point that her body would no longer heed her commands. The last thing Sloane wanted was to waste away in that damn arena for the rest of the day. She slowly shifted her weight so she was propped up on one elbow while holding out her other hand toward Kacper expectantly. Her fingers wiggled in a silent request for assistance accompanied by a faint smirk that curled at the corner of her lips.
Once on her feet, Sloane’s hand that wasn’t still clutched in Kacper’s patted his chest in the same almost playfully demeaning way she had earlier. "Then I guess we’re both lucky that you don’t plan on dating me." Her own words struck something inside her that she couldn’t put into words, something off kilter that felt like… no. She shook her head and chalked up her own thoughts to exhaustion induced delirium. She buried it beneath a smile that was teasing and light before she slipped free.
Sloane turned her attention toward Kat, offering the girl her own hand in assistance. "Come on. One left… Then we can die."
Katryna accepted Sloane’s hand with the solemn gravity of someone rising from a battlefield rather than a sand-packed arena, her fingers cool and a little unsteady as they clasped. She let herself be pulled upright, boots scraping, knees protesting, lungs still burning like they’d been dusted with ash. An exaggerated, theatrical sigh spilled from her as her spine straightened at last, shoulders slumping forward as though the weight of the sky itself had settled there.
“If I fail this last time, just roll me into the water,” she muttered lightly, voice dry with fatigue. “And leave me there.”
"Just step over it. Who cares if you do it right?" Sloane shrugged her shoulders with a weak laugh that sounded more like a tired sigh.
Kat waited until Sloane turned away—until the other girl’s focus narrowed to the final obstacle, until her back was offered in trust and distraction, before her gaze flicked sideways.
Kacper had gone utterly still.
Not the relaxed, coiled stillness he wore when he was alert. Not the bored slouch of his usual sarcasm. This was different, rigid, arrested, as though someone had reached into his skull and replaced his thoughts with a complicated equation written in a language he’d never learned. His face was twisted into something almost comical, brows knit, mouth parted, eyes fixed on the space Sloane had just occupied—as if her words had struck him mid-stride and forgotten to let him land.
He opened his mouth. Katryna did not allow the universe to find out what would have come out of it. She brought her heel down on his toes with surgical precision.
Kacper’s entire body jolted. A sharp, strangled sound tried to escape him and was forcibly swallowed, turning into something between a hiss and a choke as he hopped once, then twice, one hand shooting out to the air like it might hold him upright through sheer audacity alone.
Katryna didn’t look angry. She didn’t look amused. She looked deadly calm, the expression of a sister who had threatened her brother many times in the past. One finger rose between them. A warning. A promise. Then she turned back toward Sloane, posture smoothing, expression rearranging itself into gentle exhaustion and harmless sincerity, as if she hadn’t just committed a quiet act of sibling warfare.
“I can go first,” she offered sweetly, stepping past Sloane with a slow, careful determination.
Behind them, Kacper stood in the sand, jaw clenched, dignity in ruins, nursing his foot and whatever fragile thought had just been violently interrupted, suffering in absolute, well-earned silence.
"Sure." Sloane stepped aside and rested her hands on her hips. As she waited, her gaze drifted back toward Kacper who looked pained, confused, or… constipated? Her lips parted and brows curled upwards curiously like she missed something. She thought to ask, but when neither sibling said anything, she snapped her mouth shut and shook her head slightly. Perhaps it was better if she didn’t know.
Once Kat finished, Sloane had decided with a resolute stubbornness that this course sucked and she could be lazy on the last obstacle. So rather than trying to build up the strength for a run or a jump, she simply walked up to the hurdle, lifted one leg over and then the other. Her feet landed in the shallow puddle in soggy victory. She stepped out and threw her head back with a triumphant and exhausted groan. "Gods, I might actually sleep tonight," she mused to herself more than anything. Maybe exhaustion had its benefits if it meant dreamless sleep, but she doubted she’d be so lucky.
Sloane didn’t dare let herself sit or rest. No, that was dangerous and she had already slipped up once. Instead she pulled on her last remaining well of energy and turned back toward the stands. As she passed Kacper, she looked up at him with a small smile, faintly mischievous around the edges. There was a second where she nearly let a quip slip free, but where a joke was so supposed to fill the silence, something more genuine and real escaped. "Thanks for the help." No sarcasm or hidden meaning, just a quiet appreciation for the assistance he didn’t owe her. The reality that she would have struggled through that all if she hadn’t ran into them that morning wasn’t lost on her. As someone who often faced adversity alone… the help meant more than she could put into words.
She continued onward, hardly noticing the water wicking from her clothes and hair as she walked. Sloane returned to their seats where her hoodie and coat were laying across one of the benches. She knew it was cold outside of the arena, but the thought of putting her sweatshirt back on while being overheated sounded horrible. Her cabin wasn’t too far away, so she could brave winter with one less layer… She hoped. Her desperation for a shower and desire to see Rocco would be enough to give her the final push to trudge through snow back to her cabin.
Katryna gathered what little strength remained in her legs and gave the final hurdle an honest, ragged attempt, arms pumping, breath tearing from her chest in thin ribbons, knees trembling like reeds in a current. For half a heartbeat it almost looked graceful. Then momentum betrayed her. She clipped the edge, pitched forward, and landed squarely in the shallow water with a defeated splash, sitting there for a stunned second like a drenched, deeply offended cat. Dark hair clung to her cheeks, water soaked through her clothes in cold, creeping fingers. She scowled at the pool as if it had personally insulted her lineage. Only when Sloane passed did Katryna sigh and drag herself upright, shoes squelching, shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. She glanced at River as she dried off, lips pressing into a firm line before she looked away, begrudgingly thankful.
“Sleep is the one beast I can’t defeat,” she muttered hoarsely, trudging after her. “Same as this damned course.”
Kacper watched Sloane go with an expression that had lost most of its sharp edges, something quieter living there now, unguarded in a way he didn’t often allow. When she thanked him, the words seemed to land somewhere just behind his ribs, soft but deliberate. He answered her with a small, real smile, the kind that didn’t try to be clever about existing.
“Didn’t mind,” he said simply. “Really.” Then, a fraction more hesitant, like he was stepping onto uncertain ground without armor. “You still up for coming by one of our cabins later?” Behind him, Katryna trudged closer, scowling at the universe, while Kacper stood there in the humid warmth of the arena, watching Sloane walk away and hoping, quietly, that she wouldn’t say no.
Sloane slipped her arms through her coat and shifted the heavy fabric up onto her shoulders. She started zipping it up as she turned to face them both. "Coffee and Pandora’s box, right?" Her smile was small and weary, but resolute in that she had given her word and intended on following through. Although that didn’t mask the heaviness in her tone knowing what was likely to be divulged in the impending conversation: her connection to all of it, the campers who died, the campers who left… Liam. Her shoulders immediately slumped as a deep sigh fell from her lips. Rocco. "I can’t." Her voice was quiet and apologetic as she met Kacper’s expectant gaze. "This is the first time I’ve left Rocco alone and… I can’t do that to him twice in one day."
Kacper stared at her like she’d just announced the sky had decided to turn green out of spite. For a heartbeat he only blinked, slow and deliberate, rain-blue eyes narrowing as if he were recalibrating reality to account for this new, baffling information. Then his mouth twisted, disbelief bleeding into something dangerously close to offended concern.
“Did you hit your head when you fell earlier?” he asked flatly. “Do I need to go hunt down that healer again and make sure your brain isn’t scrambled?” A beat. Then the edge dulled, replaced by something lighter, easier, the familiar armor of casual warmth sliding back into place.
“Bring him with you,” he added, already shrugging one shoulder like the solution had been obvious all along. “I love dogs.” The words came unceremoniously, like stating the weather. No hesitation. No calculation. Just fact. He rocked back on his heels, hands slipping into his pockets, posture loose in that way that pretended nothing ever weighed much on him, even when it did.
“We’ll probably be at my cabin anyway,” he continued. “Kat’s is smaller. Mine’s right next to yours, and it’s bigger.” A pause, then a crooked smirk. “Clearly superior real estate.”
Sloane laughed softly and shook her head at Kacper’s incredulity. She drew in a deep breath and draped her hoodie over her shoulder before crossing her arms. "Forgive me for having manners and not wanting to be one of those annoying people who takes their dog everywhere." She paused for a second as her head tilted to the side a bit in defeat. "Ok, well I already do that. But I wouldn’t take him to someone’s cabin without their permission. Especially when they have cats." Her brows tugged together and she held up an index finger. "Not that it matters because Rocco is a proper gentleman and wouldn’t hurt a fly."
She shook her head once again, but that time it was because of her own ramblings and her concerns around what was proper and well mannered. You could take the girl out of the debutant but not the debutant out of the girl she supposed. Sloane’s gaze drifted over to Kat who still seemed to be huffing in her frustration before looking back up into Kacper’s eyes and seeing his devious smirk. Superior real estate. She hummed quietly with raised brows. She wasn’t a mind reader, but… "Yours must obviously have the better view of the lake," she mused with a smile that was laced with feigned innocence and mischievousness.
"I need to shower… and give Rocco like a million apologies," She took a few steps toward the exit, letting the wait of her refusal sit with him for a second or two. "But..." Sloane dragged out the word as she slowly turned around, continuing to walk backwards as she addressed him one final time. "I guess I can make an appearance." Her smile grew almost imperceivably, lingering in playfulness before setting in something softer, warmer, and more genuine. Then, before the heat that rose from her chest could reach her face, she spun back around and disappeared out the exit without another word.
Kacper didn’t realize he’d stopped moving until she was already halfway to the exit. He stood there, hoodie looped uselessly over one arm, watching the space Sloane had just occupied like it might echo back if he stared long enough. There was a softness in his expression that he would have denied under oath, something unfurled and unguarded, caught mid-bloom before he could shove it back into its usual box. Confusion threaded through it, too. Not the irritated kind he wore so easily, but the quieter sort, the kind that came when something slipped past his defenses without asking permission. Coffee and Pandora’s box. A dog named Rocco. An almost-promise left hanging in the air like a held breath.
Then pain sparked up his ankle. He hissed sharply and jerked his foot back, scowling down at his sister. “Jesus, woman—stop that!”
Katryna looked entirely unrepentant. She straightened, pointed a warning finger at his chest, eyes narrowed with feral sibling authority. “Don’t you dare make a move on her right now,” she said, low and deadly. “We just met her. She’s going to be my friend, my friend, before she’s whatever nonsense you’re already spiraling toward.”
Kacper snorted, the moment snapping, the softness folding back into sarcasm like it had never existed. He rolled his eyes skyward, rubbing at his ankle with exaggerated suffering. “I’ll do whatever I please,” he replied, utterly unapologetic.
Kat scoffed, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite herself, satisfied, watchful, protective in a way only a twin could be.
1x Laugh
