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Day 3 of the Drekkal’Zuun
The Martian morning arrives. The air tastes of metal and dust.

Toraix sits on a rock formation, staring into the horizon. His eyes are distant. He’s not watching for danger - not today. He’s thinking about home.

Elsewhere, The Mercurii and Cynamity sneak in on The Glimloop’s camp. It’s a mess of gathered fruit, scattered symbols scratched into the dirt, and half-finished tools.
The Glimloop isn’t there. It’s hunting. By the time it returns, its stash is gone. The drawings are smeared.

Suchomimos and Bexxi are searching looking for tributes, looking for supplies.

Feminem walks along the cracked stone wall, when she hears something - the faint trickle of water. She follows it to a narrow stream. She cups her hands. Drinks. Then just sits for a while.

Glade and The Boopiter spend the morning in a quiet crater, sorting what supplies they have left. the Boopiter's ankle still aches, but Glade helps it bind it tighter.

Sadbread and The Venling rest beneath a slanted metal slab. Sadbread sharpens a stone blade. The Venling hums something tuneless and strange

Night 3 of the Drekkal’Zuun
The wind has shifted. It's colder tonight. The stars seem farther away, like the arena is drifting.

The Mercurii slips away from camp, not to get away - but to hunt. It wants to make sure they are able to survive.
Cynamity remains at camp, curled beside the dying embers of a fire. While he sleeps, Glade and the Boopiter find the camp after dusk. They look through Cynamity and the Mercurii's gear, scattering supplies into the sand, drinking their water, stealing rations. And then they disappear.
Moments later, Cynamity jolts awake - heart racing, hands clenched. It was just a nightmare, or was it?

Feminem lies awake. She’s not looking at the stars tonight. She’s thinking about winning.

Toraix tries to light a fire. The flint sparks, but nothing catches. He gives up eventually and stares at the cold, dark pile.

Suchomimos and Bexxi sleep in shifts, backs pressed to opposite sides of a canyon wall.

In the other side of the arena, Sadbread screams. Within moments the Venling is there, hands trembling, eyes wide. What happened? Sadbread says nothing, but their breath calms.

And The Glimloop? It dances. In circles. In sand. Beneath the stars.