Sabrina shoved sticky strands of hair off her sweat soaked neck and wished her hair tie hadn't been sacrificed to the construction of her slingshot.
But training against Puck required improvised weaponry, and if that meant sneaking through the woods hot and miserable, so be it.
She kept a wary eye out for traps. Puck's tricks weren't the only thing she had to fear. Old traps from the Dark Days still littered the woods.
That was why Daphne wasn't here. Granny Relda thought she wasn't ready to handle the old traps.
It wasn't too hard, though. Sabrina had been out in the woods all day and hadn't seen a thing her supposed protector hadn't put there. She rarely saw anything even in the deep woods.
She sidestepped a tripwire strung between the trees and scowled up at the bucket of goop lurking above it.
Puck screamed.
It wasn't his usual war whoop or yell of triumph. It wasn't like anything she'd heard in person before. It sounded like - It sounded like -
Like something from the Games.
Sabrina took off running.
And ran right into a secondary trap.
Fire red gunk cascaded onto her, heavy with the scent of something burned. It oozed over her.
Sabrina bit back the scream building in her throat. So that was his clever plan to lure her into his trap. Well, she had plans of her own.
She gripped her slingshot tighter and stomped in the direction of the scream, eyes scanning for more traps. She ignored the second scream except to correct her direction and readied her own ammunition.
She stopped near a grove of particularly old trees whose roots were surrounded by a generous scattering of mushrooms.
A low, pained whimpering had replaced the screams. Sabrina wondered how much of an idiot Puck thought she was.
She hid behind a tree and hoped her vivid new coloring wasn't visible. She loaded her slingshot, whirled around the tree, and fired.
The balloon hit Puck's face and burst. Red hot powder sprayed out with the scent of rotten eggs. Puck coughed and gagged, his chest convulsing dangerously.
Dangerously because he was caught in a cold iron trap. The bottom, still partially hidden by leaves, had sprung over his feet while coiled serrated wire hung suspended from the tree and bound him tightly. Blood seeped up around where it touched.
An old faerie trap from the Dark Days. One of the ones the Capital had used to contain magic and extract names.
If they were lucky, they might be able to get him out without it being said.
Looking at the runes inscribed on the metal, Sabrina didn't think they'd be that lucky.
Puck had stilled. "Grimm." The word was half strangled. Sweat glistened on his face. "Please - " The movement dug the wire in further, and he cried out.
Sabrina rushed over and began examining the trap. "I don't see a catch." If she had better tools, she might be able to cut through it, but she hadn't anticipated this when they set out. "I could run back to town." That assumed she could find her way back to this place though, and she wasn't at all sure of that.
Puck's eyes were wide and panicked. "Too long."
"I know it hurts, but if it gets you out without revealing your Name, it'll be better."
"The light," he panted, and then she saw it. "A blinking green light to alert someone the trap had been sprung.
Maybe those weren't monitored anymore.
Maybe.
"You'll have to release me."
"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Sabrina snapped.
Puck's eyes were fevered and desperate. "Gladwyn Light-Hearted," he breathed out, "the Púcel king."
For a moment the whole clearing seemed brighter, and a mischievous breeze struck up and tugged at her hair.
Oh.
Sabrina gulped but said with more confidence than she felt, "Gladwyn Light-Hearted, the Púcel king, I release you."
The trap snapped open.
Puck collapsed onto the bottom part of the trap and immediately rolled off. Traces of blood stained the leaves around him.
She offered him a hand up. He took it almost warily. He winced as he moved.
She eyed him doubtfully. "I'm not going to have to carry you, am I?"
He puffed up. "Of course not!" He took a confident step forward and stumbled immediately.
Sabrina sighed and offered him her arm.
"I knew you'd warm put to me, Grimm," he panted as he took it.
"Shut up, Puck."
"About the Name - "
"You faeries have too many names," she grumbled. "I can't remember half of them."
He relaxed and leaned on her a bit more. "Thanks, Grimm." His eyelids drooped. "I like you."
". . . And you're delirious. Great."
A/N: I don't own the Sisters Grimm or the Hunger Games. This was written for prompt number twenty, "Heat," although the it's . . . Only sort of tangentially related and then only in the details.
Speaking of details, Gladwyn means "light hearted friend" according to a baby names page, and "Púcel" is an Old English world for "pooka" or "spirit" according to Wikipedia.