Okay. Wow. I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this...
So this is taking place while Katniss is off blowing stuff up and Rue is lighting the fires to distract the Careers.
So... I obviously don't own the Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins does. And if I did own the rights to it... Well... Rue wouldn't be dead for starters...
Please work. Please work. Please work.
I keep up the mental chant as I light the match in my hand, holding it close to the pile of green leaves before me until they, like the ones before them, light up in flames. I don't give myself time to congratulate myself on the victory. I'm pressed for time. I have to distract the Careers for Katniss. I have to keep them as far away from her as possible. I have to keep myself alive. And this last will only be possible if I keep moving.
That's the motto. Keep moving. That's all I have to do. Light a fire, move to the next one.
I'm in the process of standing up when I hear the footsteps. A soft thudding against the ground at first, easily blending in with the small trickle of water coming from the lake nearby and the crackling of the flames, but before long they grow louder, and louder, and louder, and louder, and louder, and –
Boom
The footsteps stop before they reach me. There's a deathly silence before a series of loud curses fill the air and the footsteps move away in the opposite direction. I let out the breath that I didn't know I was holding in, smiling slightly at the close escape.
So Katniss blew up the food.
Good.
But did she blow up herself in the process? Did she find a way to convince the boy from Three to help her, but was tricked into detonating herself? Did she try and haul off each bit of the Careers, but was caught in a booby trap?
I try to shake my head clear of the thoughts. Katniss will be fine. She'll come back. She will. I stay by the burning leaves for another few minutes, trying to convince my legs to get up and move with little use. They seem to be under the orders of the pessimistic part of my brain that refuses to give up the belief that I'm being watched.
Just listen! It screams. Just sit still and listen!
Memories of training with Seeder are brought up, her last minute instructions telling me to 'keeping moving and always keep an eye and ear open' making the key impression.
And so I stop. And I listen.
There's the small and soft drip of water moving trickling into a pond somewhere.
The birds call to one another, invisible among the branches.
Trees rustling together as they sway in the breeze.
And the slight buzz of flies as they crowd around a small dead animal nearby.
Water
Birds
Trees
Flies
Water
Birds
Trees
Flies
Water
Birds
Trees
Flies
Footsteps
Not an animals, they're too heavy. Not Katniss', they're too careful, the ground is laced with twigs and fallen branches yet none have been snapped. They're a strangers. They belong to another tribute. One of the few that are willing to risk getting close to someone else. One of the Careers.
And they're close. Too close.
Quickly trying to fight off the panic that's quickly enveloping me, I race through the options in my mind:
Stay here – Stupid. Judging by how close they sound, they've already seen me.
Hide – They'll see where I go. They'll follow me.
Climb a tree – They're too close. They'll catch me before I get high enough.
Run – Pray Katniss finds me before they do.
I'm up in an instant, my feet flying across the ground as I hope that by running I've taken my stalker by surprise. No such luck. The footsteps follow me now, matching my pace. There's no careful and elegant grace to them this time. No careful steps taken to avoid being heard. There's no use for that now. The chase is on.
"Katniss!" I call out. Somewhere my mind registers that calling out isn't smart. That by calling out I've just let the Careers know that they're on the right trail. It's enough to make me panic, to make me mentally hit myself over the head, but it doesn't serve any useful purpose that makes me calm down and think logically. If anything it adds fuel to the flame of terror raging inside of me.
Instantly I clap a hand over my mouth as the tribute, crashes through the trees, a quick glance over my shoulder tells me that I'm in plain sight. It's the boy from One. He's got a spear. I've seen him throw in training. All he needs is a small clearing in the trees and he's got me.
Forcing myself to clear my mind for a split second, I make use of my small frame by jumping through a group of trees, clumped so closely together that it's even hard for me to squeeze myself into! The Career boy has no chance.
Luck is on my side, wrapped in the pursuit, the boy from One makes the foolish choice to attempt to follow my exact footsteps through the trees, resulting in a loud curse as he realises that he can't get through before he goes around the cluster, trying to keep his eyes on my movements. But I'm fast, and he won't be able to see me for long.
I can't bring myself to smile at the lucky escape this time, because it's not over yet. It'll be over when I find Katniss. It'll be over when I find a safe hiding place where no one can get to me. It'll be over when I find a way to go home to my family. The last one probably isn't going to happen.
Snap
My thoughts are disrupted when I'm pushed to the ground, a thick blanket of rope covering me, pinning me to the earth like a helpless insect. I can't stop it this time. The panic that has been bubbling inside of me for so long finally lashes out; filling my mind and staying there till my thoughts are a jumbled mess.
"Katniss!" the cry rips out of me before I can stop it. I claw at the rope, push against it, reach out through the small gaps, looking, searching for a way out. Be quiet! I scream at myself Don't let them know you're here!
But it's too late, I know it is. Despite the minute of silence that follows and the lack of obvious sign of anyone here, I know that someone will come.
And someone does.
The boy from One enters the field. He smiles. It's a twisted, dark smile. He's enjoying it. He's not one of the ones that are only killing to survive. He's not going to have a last second lapse of mercy. He's going to kill me, and he's going to enjoy it.
"Katniss!" I mean it as a warning. Because she'll come soon. In a few seconds Katniss will come crashing through the field. She'll raise her bow, fury in her eyes and she'll step in front of me, just as an extra precaution as she'll let loose the arrow. She'll turn to me when the boys cannon goes off and she'll bend down to my level.
"I'll always be there to save you," she'll tell me in her soothing voice before she'll reach out and give me a warm and comforting hug.
I'll smile and grip her closer. "My saviour," I'll joke. Because it's true. She'll always be there to save me.
But she doesn't come crashing through the field, bow raised and already locking onto its target. And after a quick glance around to reaffirm that we won't be disturbed, the boy from One grins and takes another step towards me.
I let out a small sob. I can't help it. I want to remain tough and stay silent. I want to glare at him coldly as he comes closer. I want to look at him in the eyes when he kills me. I want to let him know that he's not better than me.
But I can't do that. I don't think anyone could. Maybe if I weren't lying helpless on the ground. Maybe if the boy didn't tower of me. Maybe if the look on his face weren't so maniacal that it sent shivers down my spine. Maybe if the spear he held, poised and ready for bloodshed weren't so glistening and pristine. Maybe if I weren't alone. Maybe then I'd be able to hold some courage in my final moments.
I make a final and desperate struggle against the bonds of the ropes to no avail. I sniff back the next tear that threatens to fall as the boy from One moves so that he's in front of me. I can't twist my body around to look up at his face, the bonds of rope keeping my gaze trapped on his feet.
The Mockingjays have gone quiet, as if in anticipation. Waiting for the strike that will kill me. Because I'm going to die. I knew it from the moment that my name was reaped. I had no chance. Just like the boy has no chance of his spear missing its target.
And then there are more footsteps. Desperate and frantic. And then she enters the field, bow raised and ready to fire.
Katniss.
The Girl on Fire.
My saviour.
And only a second too late.
... And you all know what happens next.
Anyway, uh, feedback would be nice.
Please forgive the lamer parts of this. It's 11:00 at night. My brain has turned to mush. Literally, I think I wrote most of this by slamming my head against the keyboard and seeing what came up.