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"So, whose fault is it?"
Scott looked at her like she was making no sense, and maybe she wasn't. But she had wanted so badly to ask this question before, and now that they were sort of on good terms, she wasn't going to waste the chance.
"We're sharing it, but who started it? I can't tell," Pearl elaborated, hoping Scott would understand the second time around.
As if on cue, they were both struck with a pang of strangulating pain, coughing and hacking like a pair of dying ducks trying to communicate.
"That," she managed, recovering with jagged breaths that barely filled her lungs. "Who's fault is that?"
"I always assumed it was from me," Scott said, not bothering to explain why he thought that way. Pearl didn't care. She just wanted to be sure of it. "Could it be you?"
She shrugged. "I've been chasing after you all season. Maybe something came of that."
Scott shook his head. "They're poppies."
"So?"
"You don't want me romantically, do you?" Pearl's face answered for him. "Right. Poppies are romantic. Lilacs for friendship, blue orchids for family. If the hanahaki was your fault, it'd be one of those, unless you've been pining after someone other than me."
"I haven't." Was that true, though?
"Then... I'm sorry."
"Does this make us even for all the powdered snow?"
Scott rolled his eyes. "Oh no. Absolutely not. I didn't do this on purpose; you did."
Silence. She couldn't argue with that.
They passed the night with a tension in the air, neither of them trusting the other enough to sleep in shifts, neither wanting to be productive, and they didn't have any idea where Cleo and Martyn ran off to.
"Who is it?" Pearl asked as the Sun began to just barely peek over the horizon.
"Doesn't matter."
Maybe it didn't, she thought to herself, but that doesn't mean I don't want to know.
At least she knew for sure. If it had started with her, it would have made her seem even more lonely and sad than she already was—not that she was lonely, of course; Tilly and her dogs were the only company she'd ever need. Scott being the one to catch hanahaki was great news for her, because that meant that maybe he'd been somewhere close to feeling just as miserable as she'd been this whole time.
It was nice to have it cleared up, no matter how little it mattered during a death game. She'd hoped Scott was at fault for it, but she'd always worried that it was her. How could she know for sure? Her soulmate would always be there to cast doubt, since they shared it. But wasn't she supposed to know whether or not she was in love with someone?
Pearl never expected to win this game, or get anywhere close. She had a fatal disease, of course she wouldn't be the last one standing. Natural causes would get her before a blade could get close. But as she chased the other final pair through the woods—this time not as allies, this time to kill—there was a spark in her heart, a spark of hope.
It wasn't hope for survival, or for any sort of happy ending, but a hope for victory.
I could win this.
So why did she feel so torn as her axe landed the final blow on Cleo? Why did she feel like she was being torn in two by the kill, and not the other way around?
The next few minutes were a blur, and all she could think to do was find Scott. They'd won, hadn't they? Just then? Pearl had betrayed their friends and they'd won, so it was time to figure out what came next.
Nothing would come next.
That was made clear as soon as they'd found each other, both out of breath, and not from the running around. Their curse had caught up with them.
Scott seemed awfully calm about it. Like he knew what to expect. He didn't bother trying to clear his airway, he just let death slowly creep towards him, staring at Pearl as she sputtered and choked and fought to get even just one more full breath of fresh air, red petals and blood spattering the grass under her.
"Tilly death do us part, Pearl," Scott wheezed out, breathlessly, while still sounding so calm, somehow. "Tilly death do us part."
Time slowed down for the precious few milliseconds after Scott's death and before her own, and the pieces she'd picked up during her final fight were starting to fit into the bigger puzzle.
Oh, Scott. It was never you, was it?
The realization tore at her heart, made her realize just how catastrophically wrong she'd been.
It was too late to do anything about it now.
She died with the knowledge that it had been her fault. And soon, she'd remember why.