Clove:
"Are you mental?"
I roll my eyes and lean back against a plush velvet chair. After I defied her as volunteer, Isis and I were ushered into two separate rooms and allowed to confer with a mentor of our choice before entering the challenge course the judges are setting up for us.
Currently, my mentor pacing around the room like a cat. Her mousy hair flutters limply around her shoulders, but her eyes look like burning coals. Isodele and I were paired as a mentor/tribute in the traditional fashion when I became an Elite two years ago at the Academy. Trainers assess the students and then pair them with victors who have the most complementary skills.
Isodele won the games at fifteen. She's like me in that she's smart, quick, and slight. She never stood a chance in hand-to-hand combat. She won by her cunning. She is smart. It drives her crazy that I am just a little bit smarter than her, and I rarely share my ideas before I execute them. But at least I give her something to work with.
Right now, Isodele shows no sign of slowing down from her rant. "Every other kid I've worked with has some inkling of common sense. And then they gave me you! I refuse to mentor someone who is so completely unstable. If you fail at this challenge, the Academy will ban you from volunteering in any future games. Your career is finished."
I'm really tired of her belly aching. She's supposed to be helping me. I jump off my chair and face her. "I'm the same age you were when you won the games," I say as calmly as I can, though I'm really tempted to scream. "I'm not going to get any better than I am now. Why wait?"
Isodele seems scandalized. "You'll be bigger and stronger and wiser."
"Listen, I know what I'm doing. I need to make an impression on my sponsors. I can do that best without drawing too much attention to myself now. I've been watching Isis train for the last three years. She's brutal, but she's got no brains. I know I can beat her." I take a step closer to her, "I am going to the arena this year. You can either help me or not. Your choice."
There's a short silence as Isodele just stares into my eyes. She's deciding if she wants to laugh or to punch me, which makes me mad. She should know by know that when I set my mind to something, it gets done, whether or not she supports me. I can do things on my own.
Finally, she just nods and walks over to a little table that has a small map of the obstacle course. I follow her over, taking it as a sign that she's agreed to help me.
"The trainers, along with several Capitol sponsors have been elected as a panel of judges." I doubt they've been elected. The trainers have an intricate and brutal hierarchy. The Capitol men just buy their way on to panels such as these. "They will be assessing both of you in five different categories.
"These," she points at two blue dots at opposite corners of the enclosure, "are the bunkers where you two will start. And this," she points at a red dot in the middle, "is your goal. The first to finish the task wins."
Immediately, my brain clicks into overdrive. "What sorts of obstacles – "
"The judges, however," she says, talking over me, "make the final decision as to who represents District Two in the arena." She stares at me with those cold, black eyes. "What is your strategy, Clove?"
It takes a moment for me to understand what she's trying to tell me. My goal is not to win. My goal is to beat Isis.
The two of us are brought out and paraded before the people of District Two as soon as the challenge course is ready. Barnaby Calhoun is absolutely thrilled to have more airtime this year. You can tell by the way he bounces on his toes and brushes back his stupid red hair. "Laaaadies and Gentlemen," he booms over the loudspeakers, "please give a hand to the fourth ever challenge contenders! Clove Finke, reaped tribute, and Isis Geirge, volunteer. Contestants, shake hands!"
Isis, who probably weighs twice as much as I do, immediately tries to crush my fingers. "I will kill you, little girl," she croons in my ear, "if you get in my way."
I raise my eyebrows and dig my fingernails into the back of her hand. I'm satisfied to feel a trickle of blood roll out from under my nails. Surprised, she releases her iron grip. Her eyes warn that she won't forgive me for that. Good. The angrier she is, the better.
Barnaby is completely oblivious to our hostile interaction. "Alright! Well, I am to give you instructions from the judges before you head off to the woods!" He clears his throat and pulls out a fancy sheet of paper from his pocket. "You will find your goal on high and low grounds," he quotes in a voice that is supposed to sound deep and mysterious. "The first to tame what you find wins. You have one hour from the moment you step off your hovercraft. May the odds be ever in your favor."
Looking pleased with himself, Barnaby grins at us before shooing us into some high-quality hovercrafts that are to take Isis and I to our different bunkers. I can tell that he's anxious to get rid of us because he is bursting to tell the crowd all the hidden traps and dangers of the course. "Good luck to the contestants!"
There are no windows in the hovercraft so it barely feels like we're even moving. There's no noise at all, but the slow whirring of the engine. Isodele is sitting across the table staring at me. I think she's sizing me up, deciding what to do with me. I cross my arms and glare back at her. I have nothing to say, but I'm not going to let my gaze wander around. It feels like weakness to back down from her steady gaze.
We're quite until just before we land. She leans forward with a silent intensity. "Get there first and you'll be fine." If this is all she had to tell me, then I knew it already. I make a move to head towards the door but she reaches out and seizes my wrist to hold me there. "If you don't win this, Clove, I won't be the only one out for your blood. The Academy is not the place to mess around or make rash decisions."
"I know what I'm doing, ok?"
She takes a calming breath, and I can tell she's trying hard not to shout. "You misunderstand me. If you don't win today, someone from the Academy will find a way to kill you. If you do win today, someone will probably kill you in the arena. One way or another, you signed your life away when you challenged the tribute this morning."
I understand her. It doesn't scare me to know this. If anything is only strengthens my resolve. The life I'm living is not one that I much care for – in the shadow of my father's shame on the edges of society. Because of him, I have little chance of actually being chosen by the Academy to volunteer in the next few years. I know I can do this. "Now, your only way to get out of hell is to go through it."
"Ok." I say. I'm not blowing her off this time. Isodele seems satisfied that I don't argue and releases my arm. She knows by now that I am hard to intimidate. She's merciless on me because I am a fighter. It's the only way to get through to me. The door opens and I catch one last nod from my mentor before I am blinded by the bright sunlight.
The clock starts ticking as soon as I get off my hovercraft. Isis and I have been released at the same time. I know the first thing she's going to do is to charge into the bunker and grab her favorite weapons.
My eyes scan my surroundings. As far as I can see, a fence lines the edge of the enclosure behind me before running up the slope of a steep mountain. I am currently trapped at the base of a huge alluvial fan, which must have been washed out during some flash flood. I can barely see the shimmer of a river flowing from a thick grove of trees that cover the middle of the course. Above that, the trees thin out quite suddenly to a snow capped peak. Even with the warm summers, the tips of the Rockies are always covered with snow.
I draw my attention back to the rocks. I will have to climb up out of them to make it to the middle of the course, where Isodele told me my quarry would be. I think back to the instructions Barnaby Calhoun gave us. On high and low grounds… I doubt that there was any real riddle concealed in that. Creativity is not our strongest asset in District 2. It was only a hint of what the course would look like. One of us would start from the top of the mountain. One would start from the bottom.
From where I'm standing, I got the short end of the stick. I will have to fight my way up the hill. It's not fair, but I never expected the Trainers to take it easy on me. At the Academy, there's no concept of fairness. You must fight tooth and nail for your place in the school. I can tell this is punishment for challenging their system of choosing the tributes. If I want to go to the arena, I'm going to have to earn it big time.
There's an upside to having a disadvantage, though. If I can beat Isis, they will have no choice but to send me to the Games. It will prove beyond all doubt that I am a better choice than she is.
With a victorious smile, I head into my own bunker, which is standing a few yards away from me. I give a little yelp as I open the door and peer inside. It is filled to the brim with supplies; something like the Cornucopias in the arena. But this bunker is tailored to fit my needs precisely. Lining the walls are more knives than I've ever seen in my entire life. They are every shape and size, gleaming in the reflected sunlight. I let out a sigh of longing. If only I could take them all with me! If only Isis were here now, I would slice her open in a moment and be done with it!
But I control myself. I'm not trying to kill her. No one would let me go to the arena if I killed her here. Outside of the Hunger Games, murder is frowned upon by the Capitol. How ironic. I focus my attention away from the beautiful knives on the wall that are calling my name. I have to pick things that are going to help me get to the middle ground.
I pick a green camouflage backpack off a shelf that looks light but sturdy and begin stuffing it with supplies. Water. A rope. Carabineers. Chalk. Climbing gloves. A sling. A flashlight. A survival aid package that was probably from the Capitol. I'm satisfied for now. It's only an hour. My bag is light enough, so I return my attention to the knives. I wrap several standard knives to my pack to use for later. To my delight, I see a handy vest with places to hide weapons. I fit a few more specialized knives in there and slip one down my boot. I'm ready.
Scrambling over the boulders, it doesn't take me very long to realize that I'm too heavy. The pack is slowing me down and, with the vest, I'm twice as bulky as I'd be otherwise. The boulders I'm climbing up are slick. Some moss is growing on them, and they have very few handholds. I've probably used up a quarter of my time, already, and I have to get to the goal before Isis does. I look behind me and realize that I've only gone a few hundred yards from the bunker.
In frustration, I tear the bag and vest off my back. Ok, Clove, time to think. What's really essential? I sling the rope over my head and shoulders and then down my water. The only things left that I truly need are my weapons. The vest is too heavy for me, so I reinvent it. I'm sure the leatherworker who assembled it is horrified. It was a beautiful vest. Now, it's a functional belt.
Carelessly, I toss the remains of my backpack into a crevice behind me. I realize my mistake a moment too late. An enraged roar sounds from behind me. Oops.
I see a snout poke out of the hole, and that's all it takes to send me straight up the side of the nearest boulder. It's the most common muttation in our immediate area. They call it a Snoutlouger. A disgusting name for a disgusting creature. It is a hybrid of wild hog and a badger. The Capitol was interested in the protective and brutal nature of both of those creatures. They planted them all around the Capitol to set upon and kill anything that could threaten their home. They're very dangerous with their mammoth tusks and claws the size of a tiger's. It was a pretty effective first line of defense against the rebels during the rebelion. Those things breed like rabbits and have insane family loyalty. Wherever there's one, there are at least twenty others.
It's a good thing I got a tiny head start, because I see more of them immerging from their dens. I fling a knife into the skull of the Snoutlouger nearest me in hopes that the others will get confused by the smell of blood, or stop to help their fallen comrade. I don't have enough knives on me to kill them all at once.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the glint of the sun reflecting off of the river. Immediately, I change my course and charge for it. Although Snoutlougers are vicious, they rely totally on their noses. They have no brains, sense of hearing, or vision at all.
Once I'm in the water, I hear them all fall behind me, as they lose my trail. Going uphill in the stream takes far less time, though it's much more dangerous. The boulders in the water are covered in algae and there are several foot-sized holes between them. One wrong step, and I am a goner. The current is fast enough to push my whole body under and drown me. My balance has always been perfect, though. I see the traps Mother Nature has set for me long before I reach them.
As I near the forest, I realize that the banks of my stream, once covered by boulders, are now turning into sheer rock. The stream cuts through the cliff easily, but causes a dilemma for me. My prey is at the top of the middle ground, on one side of the chasm or the other. North or South.
I can feel the clock ticking in my head. Isis might be at the platform already. Getting up the cliff will not be a problem, but it will take too much time for me to climb back down and get to the other side if it turns out I need to be on the opposite bank. The canyon is too far for me to easily cross.
I screw up my eyes and think hard. What are some facts that I know for sure? I'm standing on a mountainside and in a stream. Water follows the path of least resistance. And, as District 2 lies on the east side of the Great Divide, I know that it will eventually be flowing east towards the Southern Sea. The sun tells me it's about noon now. A fat lot of help that gives me in determining direction. Panic is starting to creep into my head. I need to make an informed decision, and I don't know what to do at all.
In the back of my mind, a memory flickers and then dies, like an ember in a fire. But it's enough that I see my father's laughing face and hear his voice in my ear. "Remember, my little Clover, the Capitol is always predictable. Their enemies came from the North. Their fear is the North. Their fear is adventure. They will always be content to watch it as long as they never have to live it."
I'm enraged that my father would have to come up at this moment, but it turns out he has actually helped me for once. I press my bitterness back into my chest, knowing that I need to keep on a straight head if I want to get out of this thing victorious. I know that the northern slope will lead me straight.
Although I wish that I could have kept the chalk that I lost in my backpack, I'm relieved that I grabbed the rope. This climb would be completely impossible with it. I strap myself in and then lasso the highest crag I can reach with it. There are very few decent handholds that I can grip without slipping or slicing my hand open. I'm getting away with using tiny cracks and crevices, and slip several times, saved only by the sturdy rope. Once I reach the first crag, I release the rope and then toss it to the next highest rock. My progress is painfully slow, even though I am taking very dangerous risks. Once, I nearly grab a rattlesnake, asleep upon a warm rock. It wouldn't have even attempted to warn me of its presence before striking.
When I finally reach the top, my arms and legs are shaking and my rope is completely destroyed from the sharp edges of the rocks to which I've attached it. I have incredible strength from the Academy, but that climb was purely muscle. Something in the back of my mind wonders if Isis could have done it better, but I dismiss the thought immediately. I have more nerve than she does, and I can make a handhold out of anything. She would have taken far more time on safety precautions.
The forest that I find myself in is foreboding. It's nothing like I've ever experienced before and I'm getting anxious. I feel as if there's a monster around every tree. I draw a knife from my vest and move forward. Nothing whatsoever jumps out at me. What unnerves me most is the silence. There are no birds. There are no bugs. It doesn't even sound as if there's wind.
Then I see it in front of me. There's a giant platform that rises high enough above my head that I can't see anything. Something is on top of it. Something I know I'm not going to like.
There's something else I don't like. Isis's head appears at the top of a makeshift ladder on the other side of the platform. She's wearing a victorious little smile on her face, like she knows she's beaten me.
I shrink back into the shadow of the trees. She hasn't seen me yet, so I still have a small advantage. I don't have time to come up with an elaborate plan, but I'm very good at thinking on my toes. In fact most of my elaborate plans end up failing in the long run. Remember what Isodele told you, Clove, I remind myself. Ignore the prize. Get Isis.
Nearby I spot a tree with wide and broad limbs that almost touch the ground. It's an easy climb, and the branches hang close to the platform. That is exactly what I need. I soundlessly climb up the tree to a place where I can witness the events going on in the open. Isis is standing on one side of the platform, brandishing a spiked mace, her weapon of choice. On the other side is the biggest wild cat I've ever seen. It's about the size of a Grizzly Bear and looks like it hasn't eaten in several days. There's a mad look in its eyes as it tries to determine the most pleasurable way to kill the human in front of it.
I look closely at the forest floor directly beneath the platform. The ground has definitely been tampered with. The workmanship is excellent, so it must have taken her quite some time to set them up. It took her much less time to get down the mountain than it took for me to get up it. My guess is that the Trainers gave her skis and a one-way ticket straight down the hill, completely free of ravenous Capitol muttations, treacherous rivers and a climb out of a canyon.
Her strategy must be to lure or to push the beast off of the platform into one of her snares. The goal, I suppose would be to capture him and not to kill him. Taming didn't necessarily mean domesticating it. And there's really no way in an hour for any person to turn a rabid mountain lion into a lap cat.
I watch at Isis approaches with her mace. She bats at it and it twists and turns away from her. They are both squaring up for a good fight. A crazy idea pops into my head. I shimmy out until I'm positioned on the branch that hangs about eight feet above the platform. I need to wait for just the right moment. I need just the right moment…
Isis bats the animal back and forth on the platform until the cat is right under my branch. Adrenaline is making it impossible to hear anything over my own heartbeat as I fling myself into the open air and land square on the creature's back.
Isis is in complete shock as she stares at me on top of the Mountain Lion. The cat is screaming in fury. It can't see me, but it knows something has got it. The only thing it sees is a shell-shocked Isis standing with her mace completely useless at her side. It charges before she's ready and completely knocks the weapon out of her hand. The mace skids off the platform and I hear it spring one of the traps. It's claws swipe her arm and blood pours out of her wound. She staggers back in pain.
I have to readjust my grip on the monster's neck to stay upright. Unfortunately, this backfires on me because it recognizes that Isis is not the threat. Isis just dodges out of the way as the cat rolls forward to dislodge me. I feel my wrist crack as it's flattened under the weight of the cat, but I hold on. Enraged it rolls again, but I manage to avoid having any more of my limbs crushed. One more… I beg silently. To infuriate it, I jam my heels into its side like I would to a horse. It works because the monster leans in to roll once more.
I bail just in the nick of time as it tumbles off the edge of the enclosure into one of Isis's traps. It screams as it's penned by ropes and metal snares. It stares up at me in fury as if it would love to sink its fangs into my neck. I smile down at it. One problem down one more to –
A blow hits me on the right side of my head and I crumple dangerously near the edge. Speak of the devil.
"I told you not to get in my way," says Isis as she leers over me. "And now you're going to pay for it."
"Not if I can help it," I reply as I kick her feet out from underneath her. She has the definite advantage because I'm injured and exhausted from fighting my way uphill to reach this point. She's also a lot bigger than me. I scramble up to regain my bearings, but she's up too, and she slams into my torso, and I'm on the ground again. Her large stature will beat me every time if we continue to fight this way.
"You thought you could beat me, did you?" she practically screams, "You thought honestly that you would be a better tribute that I would? That you could work better in a team with Cato than I can? If you did, you're a fool. Cato and I were raised to go to the games together. We're perfect for each other."
I really don't give a damn about Cato. I don't give a damn about who I go to the games with as long as I get there. Period. I'm not a great people person, but I can use them to my advantage. The weird camaraderie between Isis and Cato always unnerved me. I never understood it. Did they want to kill each other or... what? It doesn't matter to me, but something in her tone makes me realize that there's a chink in her mental armor.
I prop myself up on my good arm and grin at her. "Afraid you have some competition?" I leer at her. "You know Cato only wants the best."
"I'm the best!" she hisses, angrily, and brings her foot down on my nose. It pours blood, but can tell it's not broken.
"Are you afraid, Isis? Afraid that he might actually work better with me? That we might have a better chance of survival than you two would?"
I can tell from the look in her eyes that this is exactly what she's afraid of. I actually scare her. I almost laugh. This situation is giving me power, unraveling her from the inside. I may be the underdog when it comes to strength, but I do have the one advantage left. Her anger.
"I have more nerves than you," I taunt smoothly, "I'm crueler. You don't have what it takes. District 2 would never want you. Cato would never want you."
Her face flushes in anger, but she can't think of anything to say. She steps in to make a final blow to knock me out, but I roll away from under her. The momentum of her fury unbalances her and in one quick moment I'm on top of her, using my feet to pin her arms to the ground and pressing a small blade against her neck. The mace rolls slowly away and then off of the platform. Her head is hanging dangerously close to the face of the platform, where the mountain lion is still screaming and flailing around in her trap.
A rush of complete maniacal power rushes over me. Isis's life is completely in my hands. She's at my mercy. She can't move with my blade so close to her skin. I have the power to spare her life or I could easily send her into the jaws of impending death. Most of my mind is inclined towards feeding the kitty. Her eyes flicker for one moment and I see fear there, which only increases that urge.
But in the back of my mind a rational voice is reminding me that I need to act rationally right now. This is a fellow student. There will plenty of time to exert my power in the actual arena. I can play with my prey there. Not here. This is not the Hunger Games. It is only an event to showcase my own strength and power. The two sides of me struggle for a few moments before they decide to compromise.
I reach back into my belt and pull out the smallest, sharpest blade that I've packed. Leaning down by her ear, I whisper, "A little something to remember me by."
The terror in her eyes speaks volumes.
A buzzer sounds in the background to signify the end of our hour, but I'm done by then. Isis is moaning in pain and clutching her left arm, which is dripping with blood. Deep in her forearm, my name will be forever carved, just a reminder that I will never be defeated. Not by her. Not by anyone.
