Prompt: Shines the Sun With Warmth
Word Count: 3,013
For: Starvation: Hunger Games One-Shot Forum
Judge/Moderator: Hannah the Scribe
Dark, gloomy, rainy.
There was nothing more to do besides sit and wait for the sun to shine again. Nothing had been going on either, just the storm passing by, made by the Gamemakers of course.
Tara was from District Ten, she practically lived in sunshine. It kissed her skin an ebony brown and brightened her eyes chestnut. Without it delirium set in, a haze over her brain.
Tara hadn't spoken to a living soul in days. She hasn't moved in days, hadn't eaten. She's been recluse in her tent, sipping on rainwater and watching the sky for highlights. So far there have been none. Last she could remember there were six or so people left in the arena, including her. The boy from One, his name was Irelan. The girl from Six, Metta. Both from Seven, Worland and Celine. Surprisingly the boy from Twelve, Syder. Then her, Tara Wilfred from Ten. She wondered, if, like her, they were soggy and delirious with this mucky rain.
Tara thought of her life back home, working at the factory with all her friends. She never glamorized it before, but now that seemed like the best reality she had lived through, wrapping plastic around meats, weighing them, then sending them down a shoute. Simplicity.
Tara bunched her bag up and laid her head on it, twisting on the ground until she felt the least uncomfortable in her position to sleep.
Her entire family sat around her at their kitchen table. Her father, Chuck, her mother, Gaia. Her two brothers Jeb and Jene, and their boxer dog was on the floor, Milton. She smiled warmly at her family, getting up to hug each one of them tightly. She hadn't seen them in weeks.
"We miss you, sweetie." Her father said in her ear. He pulled away, holding her at arms length.
That was her first incentive that this was not reality, for her father had two eyes to look at her with instead of his usual one. He lost his left eye in the fields working; a young buck looking to prove himself let loose on him, thus taking out his eye with a powerful horn. "Wha-?" She couldn't formulate her words.
Everyone continued to smile at her, though they started to turn creepy. They weren't human smiles, the ones that constantly moved and assured you of reality. No, these were fake and forced, like someone poured clear concrete over them and the smiles were frozen right in the transition from glee to fear- a grimace.
Jene stepped over to the left as Jeb stepped right, showing the open window on top of their sink. Outside the sun shone violently bright and canary over the blue sky. Rays of light played behind clouds like an illusion, glowing everything in its beams.
This was the sunlight Tara had missed. This is what she wanted more than anything now. This would keep her sane.
"Attention!" A voice boomed in the room, though it belonged to none of her family members. As if the roof collapsed in, Tara felt the room drop thirty degrees and a cold humidity settled in her, much like how she felt in the Arena. "Attention tributes!"
Face chilly and fingers just about frozen, Tara sunk back down into reality. She felt around her tent, the cold ground seeping up through her fingers.
"In one hour, we of the Capital are inviting the six remaining tributes to a feast! We are to feed you, arm you, and treat at the mountain west from the Cornucopia. See you soon!" The voice beamed out, and a cheering crowd voiced itself before the sound went out completely. Now the only sounds were that of the mountain side.
Tara sluggishly sat up. Was it a risk going? Did it matter? She hadn't eaten in days and the thought of Capital food lulled her immensely. "I have to go." She whispered to herself, voice ragged from the time spent without speaking.
With that she created a mantra in her head, I have to go, I have to eat. and started packing up her supplies. Everything fit into her backpack neatly. She picked up her canteen that she left in the rain, gulping down the lot of it, then set for the mountain.
Only a twenty-minute trek, Tara stood on the edge of the little bunch of trees she had nested in for the past six days. Everything looked plain and per usual. She started to wonder if the voice had made a mistake and sent them to the wrong place in the arena. Sure enough, just as she was about to make a small camp, she heard voices.
"There's no one here, Celine. Should we just go for it?" That voice had to belong to Worland, the Seven male.
"I dunno, we are early. Want to scout it out?" She replied.
"Whad'ya mean early?" He asked.
"Claudius said it started in an hour, and that was almost thirty minutes ago. Any others could be on the way."
"Oh, yeah. Who else is left again?"
"Me and you. The boy from One."
"Yeah, Irelan. There's the Twelve boy, Sy-something."
"Him, and I think two more. One's a girl for sure."
"Two girls." A pause came as Worland pondered. "Yeah, that ugly one from Six, the one who looks like a frog!" They both started giggling, shedding a bit of light and youth onto the gloom. Somehow the clouds thinned a bit and it didn't feel as dark anymore.
"Think her name's Mara or something," Celine laughed again. "I can't remember the last one for the life of me. I think she was Nine or Eleven, but I could be wrong."
"No, Nine was in the Bloodbath. Eleven, I don't think that's-,"
Celine cut him off, snapping as she remembered. "It's the bitch from Ten! What's her name, it starts with a, a what? T?"
A shocked inhale came from him."Tina? No, Tara! Remember, one of the Career's and her got into an argument at the weapon station and she got sent out."
That did happen; the girl from Two had thought she was domineering enough to scare Tara and take the knife she was using from her and call her 'outer-district cow trash' in front of the entire center of tributes. In answer Tara laughed and called her a 'reject Victor shit' with a smile. The Two girl stepped up to Tara's face as Tara stepped closer, closing the space between them. She was tolerable of some things but never scared. Atlala had pulled them apart and sent Tara out to cool down and the Career back to her floor. Tara smirked at the thought, remembering seeing a hatchet lodged itself in the Two's brain.
"Yeah, I remember that. I wonder where she is?"
Cracks in the trees behind her caused Tara to whip around, thinking one of the Seven's were ambushing her. Instead, she saw little Syder trying to creep his way up the hill to get a view of the feast area. His dark hair covered his eyes and he pulled his jacket closer to his body.
Tara hugged her club close. She could easily go and get him on the back of the head one good time and he could be out of here, but she couldn't bring it in her to do it without him knowing. Of the four people she'd killed in the duration of the Games, they had all been fighting a fair fight with her.
A sound similar to a microphone screech times a thousand echoed above. "Tributes! The feast is about to begin!"
"How? It hasn't been an hour yet," Tara said to herself. Just as she finished speaking, the grass behind the Cournopoia on the side of the mountain opened and up came a table. It was decorated with cloth and a trim. From left to right, it had things for each person: a medium sized blue pack with a '1', a small purple pack with a '6', two large brown packs with a '7' on each, a medium sized red pack with a '10', and a same sized black pack with a '12'. In a flash a hand was grappling all six bags and taking off running.
Abandoing all her things and her fear, Tara shot up with her club in hand and two knives in her belt just in case. The runner was none other Metta, who did not have any speed on her. Tara powered her long legs as far as she could to catch up, and she heard all the others trotting behind her.
In a last effort she threw her club and hit Metta square in the back, knocking her off balance onto the ground, twisting her ankle. "Ah!" She screamed as she fell over.
Now caught up with her, Tara reached down and rolled Metta over, ripping the '10' pack from her arms. Metta held on to it with a vice grip, not wanting to let go. "Give me my pack!"
"No!" She screeched. While still pulling, Tara kicked her club over to her and hefted it in her dominant hand.
"Just let it go, and I'll let you live. C'mon, Metta!" She stressed, pulling, but Metta wouldn't budge. Somewhere behind her, Tara heard fighting and cursing.
Her mantra sounded through her head. She didn't want to fight this anymore. Tara lifted her club and banged Metta in the head twice, a dull cracking sound coming from the hit spot. Metta's soft green eyes lolled back and her grip went slack. Tara scooped up her pack and backed up from the body, running off backwards until she tripped on something.
She looked down to see a leg, then a face, the face of Syder contorted in fear as Celine held her axe over his head. "Please, please no!" He pleaded, voice straining. He was only thirteen, Tara didn't want to hurt him, but she wasn't going to save him either.
She stood up and Celine saw her, which gave Syder enough time to stand up and zip for his pack by Metta's body. She must hadn't been dead yet because no canon sounded.
Just as Syder tried to be sneaky and grab his and Irelan's packs, a spear found itself in the middle of Syder's torso. He fell to his knees and crumpled. An angry Irelan took the spear out and shoved it straight into the young boy's neck, with no remorse. His once green hair had drained of its colour and was now a murky grey colour. It reminded Tara of the sky, and how everything had drained and only shadowy, murky silhouettes remained, with no warmth.
"Worland, help!" Celine yelled as she hefted her axe in her hand, looking between Tara and Irelan. Not wanting to waste any time, Tara slowly tried to back out of the situation. "Stay still, bitch!"
"Look, I'll leave. I only have my pack, just let me go. I don't want to fight you guys," Tara reasoned.
Irelan laughed and shook his head down. "You can't leave. This is it, this is the end. There's only four of us left, you think they're gonna round us up like this again? No. Just stay here and fight, Ten."
He was right. If she left they would send some sort of mutts out to rip her to pieces. So much for the mantra and the meal. Worland spoke up, standing far from all of them. "Alright. Just so you know, I'm Worland Mac, District Seven. I'm sixteen. Good luck you guys, and good Games." He looked everyone in the eye, making sure it registered.
"Celine Cypress, District Seven. I'm seventeen. Good Games." She said proudly, turning her axe in her hands.
"District Ten, Tara Wilfred. I'm eighteen. Good Games." She gripped her club tightly, ready for the fight to start so it could end.
"Irelan Derricott, District One. I'm eighteen too. Good luck, and good Games, losers." He smirked, positioning his spear.
Celine made the first move towards Tara, swinging her axe to her side. Just in time Tara held her club her to protect her left side, but it grazed her arm a bit, making a shallow cut. It stung when open to the cold, wet air. The blood seeped out and she wiped it quickly, it heating the palm of her hand that leeched into the rest of her.
Celine's axe got wedged in Tara's club. Putting in on the ground and stepping on the handle disembedded it, and left Celine weaponless. Tara knocked the girl in her knees, making her fall back. "Celine!" A voice called, then a kick sent Tara flying to the ground, bouncing harshly. Worland had come to her rescue and got Tara before she could bash Celine's head in.
Not giving herself time to rest, Tara stood and ignored the pain in her side. Her club had skidded a few feet away, so she picked up the axe. Worland had pulled Celine to her feet and armed her with a knife while he worked on Irelan.
Celine eyed Tara up and down. She was a few inches shorter than her, and multiple shades lighter. Tara looked strong and dark, Celine felt small and infantile without strong Worland by her side, so she resorted to bullying to seem confident. "I bet you don't even know how to use that thing." She smirked, walking in a circle around Tara, far from the boys. "I can't believe you were trying to run away. You're so weak. You didn't even want to fight me."
A small break in the clouds and a slight raising of the temperature helped uplift Tara. There was still sun and warmth here somewhere, she was so close to finding it too, she just had to fight. Not replying to Celine's advances, she took the axe and made a mock swing to her left side as Celine jumped out the way, she turned and threw all her weight into a right side swing.
Taken by surprise, the axe she was just using bedded itself in Celine's right side, stuck in the stomach. Toppled over on the ground, she coughed and screeched. Her dark eyes turned to look up at Tara, tears falling down her freckled cheeks. Now able to grab her club without interference, Tara snatched it up and went back to Celine. "Sorry." she whispered more to herself than to the girl she fixing to kill. Celine shouted for Worland one more time before the club made fragments of her skull. Quicker than Metta, a canon sounded.
Distracted by his district partner's final outburst, Worland looked over to Celine's freshly dead body for a second too long, giving Irelan an advantage. Though he was being bested for a while, Irelan grappled his spear in his hand and jutted it through Worland's heart with all the strength he could muster, then pushed him to the ground.
Blood started bubbling out his mouth and spewing from his chest. Irelan planted a foot on Worland's torso and wrenched his spear out, flicking off the body matter from it. He and Tara looked straight at each other, ignoring the bodies around them. This was it; in a span of fifteen minutes four tributes had been killed, two for each of them.
Tara gripped her bloody club in her hands, eyeing him. Maybe in another circumstance, she would say he was attractive. Maybe she would even go up and strike a conversation with him. But being bloody, malnourished, and set to kill her didn't exactly make her swoon.
He jabbed forward, scaring her and making her scoot back, doing just what he wanted. She tripped over a body, Celine's, and fell on her back. Too quick, she thought. Irelan just smirked over her, stalking up to her. She pretended to be hurt, clutching at her backside, but she really was reaching for one of her knives. "C'mon, Ten. You can do better than that." He laughed.
He fully leant over her about to pierce her heart, but in a change of movements, she lurched and stabbed the back of his thigh, hopefully severing his rear hamstring. This pivoted him forward, which gave her way to grab her other knife and stick him in the stomach, or at least she tried. He rolled away from her, the slight incline of the mountain face sending him down. She got up, but then realised she was hurt too. Landing on Celine, she was pinned down to the handle of the axe, leaving a slight gash in her back.
Ignoring it she stood and ran down the hill with her club. When she reached Irelan's body, he wasn't moving, face down into the grass, not breathing at all, her knife still in his leg.
Tara froze.
Was he dead? Like that? Already? She couldn't believe it! She knew the clouds were parting for a reason, she knew there was sunlight poking through! A brilliant warmth and glee spread through her body as she waited for the announcement to-
"If I hadn't known better, I'd think you were trained, Ten. But only an outer kid wouldn't make sure their kill is really dead before they start rejoicing." Irelan spoke right in her face, practically hugging her body. Almost identical to Worland, it went through her heart and spewed blood on the both of them. Tara trembled, not yet registering the pain and the death coming to her. "Good luck," he stepped back and let her fall to the ground, slipping down the pole of the spear with a wail. "And good Games."
Warmth. That's all she could feel now, warmth, seeping from her body with it, dripping all over her. Warmth. Something came and suddenly Tara was in the air. The heat hugged her as the light brushed through her hair and grazed her skin. As the hovercraft lifted out the arena, Tara was covered in warmth and pure, natural sunlight, and so was her casket as it took her home.
She had found it.