Nathaniel stayed inside the tent like he was supposed to, because Remy was good at fighting and Nathaniel had never even tried it before. He didn't understand it much. But from what was going on outside, it was awful. Everyone sounded so angry, and there was yelling and people falling to the ground, dead. He hoped that Remington wouldn't be one of the dead people falling to the ground.
When he heard that voice, shouting his name, Nathaniel scrambled to his feet and took off at a run. He didn't get very far, though, because as soon as he was out of the tent he crashed into three men in garbs that were different than those of the people on the ground at their feet. "Get that one," one of them barked, and two of the men grabbed Nathaniel by the shoulders and held him tightly. "And the other. They'll last in the arena."
The arena was probably a bad thing, but Nathaniel couldn't focus his hazy brain long enough to consider the impact of that. Remington was being hoisted up and dragged along, and he was getting handled and shoved and forced to walk, and this was not turning out at all how he had wanted it to be for his friend. "Remy?" he called, reaching for his friend and getting slapped in the head for it.