Adam's eyes reflected orbs of light dancing up in the air, fading along with the hopes of the people behind him. He could hear them, their quiet tears, their shoulders moving on their own as their nails dig through the hard snow.
He'd heard them over and over again.
This was Adam's seventh Game. And one would think that he'd be used to all the death by now—but no. Each death still… haunted him each and every second of his life, waking or asleep.
He turned around, looking at the cheering faces of his team first. And then, he gazed down toward those whose tears mixed in with the blood and snow beneath their knees and palms.
He sighed, and as he carefully walked to approach one of the defeated, the cheers instantly died down, and everyone celebrating lowered their arms.
