Author's Note: If Peeta had killed the girl from District Eight, I think this is how it would have gone down. I don't own these characters or their insane surroundings. Just borrowing for a bit. :) Thanks for the reads and the reviews, by the way. Keep 'em coming!
I have no idea how I ended up here, in the midst of the Careers on the first night of the 74th Hunger Games. It was a stroke of luck that they even let me survive at the Cornucopia, and now I'm part of their group, seeking out the remaining tributes. I don't wonder how long I have until they decide to dispose of me since they more than adequately make up for in strength what they most certainly lack in subtlety.
Everyone back home must loathe me for changing sides like this. Confessing my feelings for Katniss and then abandoning her on the playing field definitely isn't going to win me any points. What was actually real for me on that stage is now being seen as a complete farce, just another strategy to win. Peeta Mellark sure knows how to play the people. I'd hate me for it, too.
We're trudging in the dark, downhill, through an endless maze of trees and shrubs, looking for any stragglers and maybe a place to make camp. I'm taking up the rear not only because they're arrogant enough to think that I wouldn't try anything, but they're also arrogant enough to know that if we get attacked from behind, I'm the first to go. Amazing defense plan. I won't hold it against them, though. They're just doing what they do best: blazing trails to their own victories.
I'm not really paying attention back here, anyway, which I know will get me killed so easily it's funny, but I can also attribute it to the significant temperature drop and hunger even though we consumed our rations not too long ago. The rich Capitol food leaves you wanting, but I suppose that's the point. The brutes ahead of me could live off of themselves forever. Another reason for them not to keep me around much longer.
Suddenly, there's a faint glow ahead, not even one hundred yards away. Someone has made a fire. How stupid! It's not like we're being all that quiet, either. To emphasize this, the Careers break into a run, and I keep up if only to conceal my steps in theirs. We come upon her in seconds, a dozing tribute just trying to stay warm in the earliest hours of the morning. She wakes with a shriek as Clove grabs her by the neck and twists her arms behind her back, holding them together with one powerful hand.
It's the girl from District Eight. She's crying, begging for mercy through alliance, and Cato is just grinning down at her evilly. The other three Careers egg him on, pushing him to just be rid of her, to shut her up. I don't even know her name, and have even less time to remember her appearance because Cato is shoving a knife into my hand and motioning for me to get on with it.
"You'll be next if you don't," he growls, flexing to show me that he has no problem following through. Definitely not subtle. The girl is squirming, trying frantically to escape Clove's grasp, but the District Two tribute has a grip like a vice. The others stand back and snicker. We all know the cameras and the crowds are loving this.
I make them all disappear — the Careers and the screams — as I drive the knife into District Eight's chest. With one twist and then the removal, her life ends immediately. She's dropped like a sack of flour, her blood spilling out through the rip above her heart. Clove rejoins Cato and the others, who all praise me with facetious enthusiasm while checking the girl's pack for supplies. Inside I'm rattling, but I keep my cool on the outside, wiping off the blade with steady hands and pocketing it for myself. I turn to Cato, who gives me a nod of approval but not much else.
"Let's go," I say, breezing past the body and further into the brush. They're on the move just as quickly and resume their lead soon enough. Curiously, there is no cannon blast. I think I'm the first to catch on, until we reach a grove of willow trees about a minute later. They're a bit spooky, branches nearly touching the ground, shadowing their trunks with leafy curtains. Then it hits me. Could it be? A tribute is hiding among us?
Katniss...?
And then, "I didn't hear a cannon..."
"She's dead, or she will be soon enough," Cato replies.
"How can you be sure?"
"Yeah, what a waste that would be, to have to go looking for her —"
"I'll go back and finish her off for good, then," I interrupt, trying to sound offended that they doubt my ability to kill. Before there's more opposition I'm making a beeline for District Eight's campfire, which is now reducing itself to ash. I lean over the corpse, taking my time, pretending to stab someone who I know for sure has already expired.
There's only one reason the Gamemakers would delay the cannon. Katniss is in those willow trees and the most vicious group of tributes is just below. They want us to find her. They want the ultimate confrontation on the first night of the Games. Too bad they aren't going to get it.
I look to the sky. I'm done torturing this girl's soul for the sake of the Games, I tell them. Take her and be gone. As I jog back to the group, we're all satisfied to hear the cannon go off and the approaching hovercraft, signifying her death. While they were waiting, it's apparent the Careers haven't detected any other tributes in the area. The swooping feeling that had been filling my stomach subsides. After a quick discussion we're off again, further into the valley, the unknown, and away from the weeping willows.
Very carefully I sneak a glance back at the trees. I feel someone staring me down, watching intently as we make our leave. It's got to be her. She's a forest dweller, blends into anything here. And if my gut feeling is right, she's got some damn nerve staying up there for as long as she did with a pack of rabid Careers on her doorstep. I'll never know how I earned their trust before hers.
I'm going to do my best to lead the group as far away from the trees and the trail as possible, so Katniss will get a decent head start. Daylight begins to creep over the horizon. She might not know it, but I can only hope I've given her enough time.
