A/N
Written for Maristela Freesia's The 100 Themes Challenge.
Yes, yet another oneshot for me. I know this is lame. But it was the best thing I could think of - well, there was another version, but I liked this idea better. Little did I know how it would turn out...(shudders)
The leaves rustle.
My breath catches in my throat as I huddle in my bush. I want to kick myself for sneezing so loud, but I couldn't help it.
The bush is thorny and thick, the thistles scraping my uncovered face, but it's safe. Of course, in this arena, nowhere is safe, but at least, here, nobody can find me.
Or maybe not.
I just pray that it's safe enough.
I strain my ears, longing and at the same time hoping not to here a sound. And then the tiniest crunch alerts my ears.
Crunching sounds of booted feet walking over dried leaves. Whispered conversation. The clinking of some kind of metal, linked weapon. The rustle of leaves as the newcomers brush against trees. And a loud, jaunty curse. I hold my breath and listen.
Then I can see light. Yellowy, flickering torchlight - yet it doesn't seem a welcoming, as warm as it used to be back home. No - this light is excited, malicious.
"You idiot!" a girl's voice hisses.
"I am not a - " a moaning drawl of a boy's complaint replies.
"I bet some tributes were here before you scared them away!" the girl snaps back, talking louder.
Careers. The worst surprise a tribute in the arena can get.
I can't breathe. I'm terrified that if I do, the slightest sound of wind leaving lips will be enough for the Careers to find me. To them, I'm just another tribute to be sent home in a wooden casket.
"Quiet, Spuria!" a new voice, another girl's but calmer, cuts in.
There's a moment of silence as they listen. I don't move at all, not even breathing. I close my eyes since the moonlight could reflect against them.
"What is it?" the boy asks.
"I swear I heard something." the second girl whispers. She steps closer to the bush, but then a scream pierces the still air. I hear the whirling wind as the girl whips around.
"That's Marlene!" the first one shouts. "Come on!"
I can hear the stamping of feet on the ground as the three Careers run off towards the direction of the scream.
I stay frozen for a few more moments before I notice the screaming in my lungs and I open my clamped-shut mouth.
They're gone. I'm alive. I'm safe.
I can breathe again.
A/N
If you read this, please review! My latest oneshot, The Responsible TwelveYearOld got 36 visitors and 1 review. Now, that's sad, especially since I spent 3 hours writing it.