Emery's breath shuddered when Rye whispered that one word in her ear. Now that she had finally allowed herself to feel, she was overwhelmed with her desire for him, almost ready to give herself up to him right then. In the golden fields swaying softly in the breeze under a conflicting sky with one half a bruising dark blue and the other a brazen orange with fiery clouds. However, she still had some dignity left that prevented that; she also knew that they needed to take care of Stark if they were to ever be safe. She imagined what would happen if they were the last two survivors. She doubted that the Gamemaster would release them like they did the last two winner of the Games since they were from different Districts. No matter, she almost fancied the idea of them staying in the arena, helping each other survive and running away from the all the dangers together.<span style="font-style: italic">How romantically troublesome</span>, she thought with a wry smile.<br/><br/>When Rye mentioned seeing Eden, Emery furrowed her brow and looked behind at the shadowed forest near the creek with its whispering waters. Shaking her head, she said, "I didn't see anyone." Hope flickered inside her at the thought of him being alive, but she didn't put too much faith in it. Albeit unlikely, the boy seemed to show quite a bit of fortitude as far as she could see. Emery turned back to Rye and listened to him describe the folk tale. Her eyes glazed as she pictured tearing Stark apart with her bare hands like he did with Galner; throwing the pieces in the fire blazing like the sky's clouds like he did with the bodies from the Cornucopia. It was an attractive image. Her fingers tightened around the sledgehammer, which she nearly forgot she had. Emery smiled at Rye and said, "Even if it isn't needed, I'd like to do it just because I hate that bastard so much." When that came out of her mouth, she felt uneasy. The moral part of her nagged,<span style="font-style: italic">You don't want to become him to destroy him.</span><br/><br/>Pushing the thoughts out of her head, Emery followed Rye as he began advancing toward the forest. She took his hand in hers immediately and firmly when he held his out. As they ran through the maze of trees, the injuries that she had made themselves more apparent by causing acute pain. Her head ached from the headbutt Stark gave her and the slash on her arm began to sting more. It was as if her body was reminding her how easily she could be hurt.<span style="font-style: italic">This isn't the time</span>, she told her body.<span style="font-style: italic">Stay strong.</span>Even when she told herself this, she couldn't help but feel so vulnerably human as they pursued Stark. She dismissed it, not allowing herself to care. When up against someone like Stark, she knew would never feel ready enough. With Rye alongside her, she didn't need to.<br/><br/>Emery's breath hitched in her throat and she stopped dead when she spotted Stark several yards away to the left. He was facing a tree away from them, murmuring indistinctly. She moved her eyes over to Rye for an indication on what to do and, realizing she wasn't breathing, exhaled. When she looked back, she saw that Stark had his head turned back and was staring at them from the corner of his eye. She took in an audible breath through her nose and stiffened herself, as if his sight relied on motion.<br/><br/>"Oh look," he said as he moved to the side, exposing Eden against the tree, "your friends are here." Stark had Eden back on the tree with a firm grip on his jaw. Edenâ€™s face held a grimace, clearly in pain, and his eyes showed utter terror when he opened them to look at Rye and Emery. Widening her eyes, Emery stepped forward and murmured, â€œEden, youâ€™re okay.â€ While grateful, she was confused as to how his skin was completely normal now.<br/><br/>â€œWell, I wouldnâ€™t call him<span style="font-style: italic">that</span>,â€ laughed Stark, â€œbut he is alive; to my surprise, too. This little bitch faked being dead when I found him. Pretty convincing when I looked at his decaying face.â€ With a sigh, Emery swung the sledgehammer up and gripped it with her other hand, holding it low at an angle. Stark raised his eyebrows at that and said with a sarcastic monotone, â€œOh my God, have mercy.â€ She frowned as she talked in a dull matter-of-fact voice, â€œCome on, Stark, stop being an asshole and let the poor boy go.â€<br/><br/>â€œIâ€™m the poor boy here,â€ he moaned with mocking earnestness. â€œNobody loves me. Donâ€™t I deserve love?â€ Lifting Edenâ€™s chin, Stark stroked his face and then smashed his mouth upon his, tearing at his lips with his teeth. Eden gasped and groaned in protest, but went limp in Starkâ€™s arms. Emery stared at the two with a baffled expression, nearly laughing at the whole thing.<span style="font-style: italic">Heâ€™s more fucked up than I imagined</span>, she thought with a sheepish smile.<br/><br/>â€œNo,â€ she said, uneasy amusement evident in her tone, â€œno you donâ€™t.â€ Lifting his lips from Edenâ€™s, he turned to Emery and said with a pout, â€œThat hurts my feelings.â€