In the audience I see Bree and Charlie going wild and feel a swell of pride. Over the last six months that we’ve been in Fort Noix, they’ve both grown. Bree celebrated her eleventh birthday and is looking more like a teenager every day. It’s amazing what a healthy diet of vegetables and meat can do to a girl.

Neena’s also in the audience, looking on proudly like the surrogate mother she has become to me. Neena’s one of the kindest women I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. She takes good care of all the girls in the house, making sure our bedding is clean and our clothes are mended, and though she can be fierce, life is harmonious.

But then I catch sight of Ben. He’s clapping in the muted, emotionless way I’ve come to now expect from him. I feel a knot form in my stomach. I’m surprised that he even came to watch me compete since he’s been doing everything he can to keep his distance from me.

Molly and Ryan come over to congratulate me on my win, quickly distracting me from my thoughts.

“And this is the girl who said she wasn’t going to compete,” Ryan says, kissing me on the cheek cordially.

It’s true. It took General Reece more than a bit of encouragement to get me to compete. I was terrified about standing in front of an audience again after everything I’ve been through in the arenas, worried it would cause another flashback. But having people cheer me for my skill rather than bray for my blood is beyond healing. My only wish is that she could have convinced Ben to take part as well, but he hasn’t touched a weapon since that first night at the outpost.

“Typical,” Molly says, rolling her eyes playfully. “Even when Brooke doesn’t want to do something she’s still better than the rest of us!”

I can’t help but smile. Their support means the world to me. Since Ben seems to be drifting further and further away from me, sometimes I think their friendship is the only thing that’s keeping me going.

“So,” I say, “do I get a medal or anything?”

Molly laughs. “It’s not quite that easy to become a decorated soldier at Fort Noix,” she tells me, knowingly. “Your reward is just to bask in your own triumph.”

“That’s good enough for me,” I reply, jovially.

It’s not just my mind that’s been rejuvenated by the last six months living and working in Fort Noix. It’s my body. I’ve put on weight, my muscles are stronger, and all my wounds are healed. The snake bite is now nothing more than a cool silvery scar on my calf.