Octavia's Point of View
The moment I step out of the dining hall, the noise fades behind me. The warm light and the sound of voices dim, swallowed by the quiet of the hallway. My boots click softly against the polished floor as I make my way towards the hospital building.
Every step feels heavier than it should.
The corridor smells faintly of cedar and the lemon oil the staff use to clean the floors, but beneath it, I catch the ghost of blood, old, dried, clinging to my memory rather than the air. I shake it off, and force my breathing to steady.
Outside, the early evening air is cool against my face. The world is still, too still for what happened just hours ago. The forest looms beyond the clearing, silent and dark. I cannot help but think about the wolves that attacked us, about the
