ROYALHILL, MORTALLANDS
Elita snuck out of camp that morning.
She was meant to be on watchtower duty after breakfast(not that she could eat with the food crises anyway) but the discovery of her decayed flora had her travelling on the back of her brown, male horse named Daffodil to Royallhill.
She had to speak with Edna.
On her journey, she spotted a dead fox lying on the dried, straw-coloured grass. The entire land seemed to be affected now; no longer green, it resembled hay more than anything. Although she'd grown accustomed to seeing dying trees and grass and flowers on the outskirts where Camp Safeguard sat, she hadn't witnessed it this far out. It seemed the poison had spread to the heart of their faction.
The red fox appeared matted and dirty, its stomach sunken and bones visible through its pelt. Elita did not doubt that the poor thing starved to death.
She wondered how long it would be before she began to discover her own people in a similar state. El urged her horse to gallop faster.
Royallhill had become a pitiful slither of land. Located on a tall mound, the man-high walls were nothing more than piles of rocks on the ground. Buildings were half broken, no longer maintained after Edna's son got them kicked out from the Circle of Elites. There'd been riots. Fires. Luckily, Edna had managed to protect her home, garden and alchemy shed with her elixirs. To this day, it was where she and her son remained.
Elita often visited. Snuck them food or whatever else Edna requested. The older lady was still her friend, a mother figure, and she wouldn't abandon her like everyone else had. Of course, she still had her son, but the lazy bastard sat around their home most of the day moping. Feeling sorry for himself. As if he wasn't the one to cause it in the first place.
Not that Elita blamed him exactly. She always believed they'd been one bad day away from getting the boot from COEs anyway.
Elita guided her horse through the crumpled buildings before coming to a stop. In front of her was a smoky haze of crushed obsidian particles rising from the ground and stopping just shy of her knee; forming a protective circle around the older alchemist's home.
It was obvious to Elita that not even Enda's land was strong enough to survive. Her heart squeezed, because if Enda couldn't fight against whatever curse had taken hold, then there really was no chance for any of them.
Elita muttered the words which caused a break in the protective barrier. The smoke parted for her to step through and sealed back up behind her.
She found the elderly woman in her alchemy shed, frail and skinny, hunched over her table. Her once long smooth hair decorated with beads and flowers and plaits was now fizzy, matted and tied back with no decorations in sight. The split and damaged ends reached the back of her knees.
"It's me, Edna," the young girl greeted loudly. "Elita. I've come to visit."
Edna turned, slowly, a smile splitting her thin lips. "E-Elita, dear, I-I'm so happy t-to see y-you."
Elita closed the distance and gave her a gentle hug. Edna was shorter than her now, a combination of Elita growing up and Edna's hunched posture making her appear smaller than she was. "I've missed you."
"M-me t-too. Y-you look tired." Edna frowned, pulling back and giving Elita a once over. She noted the expression on her face. "What's h-happened?"
Elita cursed mentally. Edna mustn't have been outside yet. She knew Edna spent most of her days mixing ingredients. Creating a multitude of elixirs for Elita to take back with her. She'd only step outside to water her plants, something she guessed she had yet to do.
"Let's sit you down first, yeah?" Elita offered with a forced smile.
--
It didn't come as a surprise when the first thing Edna wanted to do was see the damage.
She stood on unsteady legs. Elita held onto her arm and guided her outside one step at a time.
"O-oh my g-goodness." Edna gasped weakly, gazing at her wilted garden. Elita held her more firmly. "I-it's all gone. A-all my work." The shaking of her voice grew stronger with her heartbreak.
Elita felt her own eyes grow wet. She knew how much her garden meant to her. She'd spent more than half of her life creating it. Perfecting it. Learning the different needs of every individual life she grew.
"Mine is the same way. The whole land seems to be affected." Elita cast her eyes downwards. "I. . .I don't have any food for you. Hunting has become a problem and there was an issue with the care package."
Elita felt overcome with guilt. It was her job to keep Edna fed. No one else bothered to go out of their way to help her. Edna and her son had been all but exiled.
Actually, she wasn't the only one. Atti and Torin helped. She'd kick their ass if they didn't. Hell, even Garb saved bits of food for her to bring to the elderly woman. But right now, they had no food for themselves, which meant no leftovers for Elita to gift.
"I-it's not m-me I'm w-worried about, E-El," Edna said unsteadily. "I-I've lived m-my life. B-but y-you're s-so young. . ."
"Let's get you back inside." Elita interrupted her, turning them around. "I have an idea regarding the food problem. But I need some of your elixir's. . ."
"A-anything, d-dear. It's a-already y-yours."
--
Elita hugged Edna extra tight when they said goodbye.
"You're like a mother to me," she whispered meaningfully. "I want to thank you for everything you've taught me. For the times when you were there whenever I needed you."
"Y-you're g-going t-to make a-an old g-girl cry, t-talking like t-that." Edna held her back, as firm as her fragile arms would let her.
Elita knew this could very well be the last time she saw Edna. If her idea failed, then they'd all starve. Edna would be one of the first to go. A pang shot through her at the thought. It hurt enough for her to wish she didn't make it back alive if she wasn't able to make her plan work. . .
"I love you, Edna. I'll see you soon."
"I-I love y-you, t-too, E-El," Enda pulled back, lifting a shaky arm to tuck Elita's long bang behind her ear. "If n-not in this life, then t-the next."
--
CAMP SAFEGAURD, ROYALLHILL.
Elita dumped the contents of her bags onto the table in the middle of the camp, the one Atti sat at.
He raised an eyebrow at her and picked up one of the colourful elixirs. "You've been to see Edna."
At least he was talking to her again. Even if it was clear he was still pissed at her with the way his voice sounded off.
"We use these to retrieve the food," Elita explained. "I know we use them for defence during an attack, but I think this takes priority."
"You want to venture into No Mans Land," he stated.
"If we don't, we starve anyway. At least out there it'll be a quick death."
Atti twirled the bottle in his hand thoughtfully. "And if we get attacked after, with no elixirs to defend ourselves with?"
"Then we'll fight them off with our bare hands."
"Both options are suicide. Not sure a 'quick' death is classed as getting your limbs torn from your body and eaten alive."
Elita grimaced at the next words which left her mouth. "Starvation drives people mad. Give it long enough and it might not just be the creatures of No Mans Land feasting on us."
Atti mirrored her expression. "Cannibalism. Nice. Another thing to add to the list of problems we're facing."
"I'm going anyway," Elita told him. "Whether you send a team with me or not, is up to you."
"No way in hell." He shook his head, firm. "If I do send a team, you bet your ass you won't be on it."
Elita resisted the urge to pull at her hair. She leaned her palms on the table and stared him straight in the eye. "I'm quicker than everyone here and you know it."
"You're also the most important."
She scoffed. "Bullshit. I'm just as important as everyone here-"
Atti's voice tightened. "To me, Elita. Most important to me."
That shut her up.
El's gaze turned soft as she looked at him; his features twisted with fear and worry. He tried to hide it. Atti managed to keep his feelings locked up from everyone else with ease, but Elita always saw straight past the brick wall he'd learnt to build up after being unofficially elected as the leader of the camp.
"Atti. . .you can't protect me from everything," El spoke gently.
"I can sure as hell try."
--
CRUMPLED WALL, WATCHTOWER, MORTALLANDS
Elita crossed her arms over her chest, her bow resting against her back with her quiver attached to her hip.
The team had been assembled, and just as Atti said, she wasn't on it.
However, Atti, Torin, Garb, Petry, and Stan were. The most capable ones. Excluding her.
Ridiculous. She was better than most of them. More efficient, faster, quieter; more skilled. Other than Atti. There was a reason everyone classed him as their leader, but she absolutely came close second.
When Stan questioned, the youngest of them all at nineteen sun-cycles old with curly blonde hair, "How come El's staying behind?"
Atti answered smoothly without missing a beat, "If we don't make it back then camp will need a capable leader."
Lying bastard.
He didn't leave her out for the sake of the camp. He left her out because of his undying need to keep her safe.
Each of them had three leather satchels. One with their elixirs and two empty ones for the food. The care package was too heavy for them to lift back, so they'd have to shove their bags full and bring them back over multiple trips.
. . .If they survived the first expedition, that is.
Whilst the elixirs were the most efficient way to deal with the creatures (upon throwing them and hitting their target, they'd combust into flames) they were also limited. So, as backup, they took their bow and arrows, each tip dipped in Elita's speciality poison.
It would kill them, slowly, which wasn't ideal, but it was something.
"Everyone ready?" Atticus asked, standing in front of the opening; the hole in the wall which would either lead them to their deaths. . .or keep them alive just that bit longer to come up with a new survival plan.
He received a chorus of 'yes' in response.
"Good." He takes a deep breath, acknowledging every one of them with a passing of his eyes. "I know I've already been through this, but I wanna say it again. What each of you has signed up to do is incredibly heroic. This is a journey we might not make it back from and despite this, you're still willing to go. For the sake of our people. To give our faction more time. If we die out there, know this—we won't be forgotten. Our sacrifice will be written in the scrolls, a story for another lifetime to discover. Your names will be going down in history."
Atti took a deep breath, his eyes finally finding Elita's, who stood at the back, away from the group of people about to enter No Mans's Land for the first time ever.
"Elita," he started. Stopped. Couldn't seem to find the words. "Ah. Fuck it. You know, don't you? You know."
That she was his best friend? Of course, she knew. El nodded and held back her tears. She refused to cry. Elita didn't cry. "I know, Atti."
For some reason, he didn't look convinced but pulled his gaze away from hers with a heavy sigh anyway. She frowned at that but didn't have time to question him because he was turning and heading for the opening.