Page 143 of Forsaking All Others

‘Run.’

The rope holding me creaks and unwinds a little, causing me to suddenly drop a few handspans lower, and Thorun screams, “Cat!”

Mustering the last of my strength, I manage to shout one word before the darkness takes over;

“RUUUUUUN!”

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I watch, helplessly, as Cat and Thorun fall foul of Miranda’s trap, Thorun now pelting through the forest away from where Cat dangles by one leg, thirty metres or so high up a Spruce.

The camera strapped to Thorun’s front takes me away from Cat, and my heart is in my mouth as I watch the Icelander’s flight from her perspective.

At Cat’s shout she’d spun from the blood-splattered ice immediately.

Now, as she runs through the trees, her steps slowed by the thick snow, my worst fears have been realised, and hers too.

Cat is out of the Game. Miranda’s likely to finish her off easily now, and Thorun will then be easy pickings next, leaving just Miranda and Cherry as the final two.

As I watch Thorun run, Miranda still heading in the other direction towards Cat, I frown and catch my breath as the Icelander comes to a sudden halt.

Shaking my head, I realise what she’s going to do. I’d expect no less of her.

“No!” I snarl, unable to do anything but stare at the monitors in horror.

I’m aware Mr Dott is having a field day filming my emotions, but I’m all out of fucks to give at this time. Starlen, on the other side of the room, prattles into the cameras about ‘sacrifices, feelings’ and ‘tragedies,’ but I can’t focus on anything other than what's going down out in the wild.

Covering my face with my hands momentarily, I breathe deeply and shake my head, preparing to force myself to witness what I’d had a hand in foreshadowing. I’d made a mistake not telling Thorun about the Life Token when I had the chance. A terrible, selfish mistake. And I’d made a greater mistake asking Cat to care for her. In doing both these things I’d sealed the fates of the only two women worth knowing on this show.

‘The only two I care about.’

Taking my hands away from my face, I straighten my shoulders and look back at the screen, but something’s changed.

‘What IS she doing?’

Thorun, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts due to the intense cold and exertion, has changed direction again and reached the area where she and Cat had built their moose trap. She’s crying now as she leans across the two-metre by three-metre trench they’d covered with branches, and presses big prints into it with a branch.

I shake my head and smile at her ingenuity.

‘If this works…’

When she’s satisfied, she rises and, still bawling loudly, spins to run back the way she’s come, towards Cat and the rapidly approaching Miranda.

She reaches Miranda just as the Australian, walking slowly and purposefully, comes into view of an unconscious Cat hanging from her trap.

“Hey, Miranda, you fucking rassgat!” Thorun shouts across a distance of perhaps twenty metres, sobs hitching her words.

The Aussie comes to a halt and smiles a broad, deadly smile when she sees Thorun.

“Thorun,” she murmurs, taking a slow step in the Icelander’s direction. “Don’t be scared. I’m here now. Cat’s out, but I can look after you the rest of the way.”

Thorun begins stepping backwards at the same, slow pace as Miranda’s stalking gait.

“I don’t think that’s what you plan,” Thorun shakes her head. “And I don’t think you should come any closer, Miranda.”

“Come on now,” the Australian smiles, still moving forwards, “you can trust me, Thorun. Didn’t I already try to align with you before Seville? Let’s work together now.”

As she says this, she puts her hand behind her back where Cat’s machete is tucked into her belt.