District Six – Female – 68th Hunger Games
The morning shift comes to relieve her just after dawn. She smiles at Lee and hands over her crossbow. They only have one; nobody in the alliance was a strong enough fighter to survive the bloodbath. Still, they're lucky. Holding a fort like theirs without ranged weapons is tough, but it hasn't been impossible.
It couldn't be impossible. Not after everything they've managed.
It's hard to believe they've come this far. For the first time she can remember, kids from the Districts are bound together by more than a blood pact, waiting for the opportune moment to gut, stab, or impale their erstwhile allies.
Their camp's rough and sparse, sure. There isn't much shelter; the one cave they managed to clear of nightmare splices only holds three, strictly reserved for the wounded. The healthy kids sprawl around on scraps. Salvaged tarps, gathered hay, pine branches, whatever they can find.
Still, with their backs up against a mountain and a barren plain spread in front, it's defensible. They don't have to worry terribly about the Careers.
Her stomach growls, a reminder of the laundry list of other things to worry about.
"Any trouble?" Kayley—unofficial quartermaster—hands her a cup of root tea; it tastes of mushrooms but it's hot.
"You'd have heard if there were," she replies between sips. The camp's coming to life around them, but it's a slow awakening. Peaceful. Another victory scored. "Anything happen here?"
"That girl from Four is getting worse."
"Annie?"
"Yeah," Kayley sighs. "I wish we could do something to help her, but she's not hurt, really. Just seeing Pleck go down..."
"I know," Lyala shivers, "I dragged her away from the body. I'd hoped…well. Okay. She'll recover once we're out of the arena."
"You still think this is gonna work?"
"It has to," she says, setting her shoulders. She has to believe it; she can't doubt and lead. "It's not like people haven't tried to put a peaceful alliance together in the Games before."
"Yeah, but I don't remember those alliances walking onto hovercrafts and living happily ever after," Kayley ladles some tea into Mavik's bowl.
"That's because those alliances never had leverage. They were either broken before they began or destroyed by infighting. And that won't happen to us," she finishes grimly, staring at her tea like it's about to contradict her.
"Relax, fearless leader. I trust you," she turns lotus roots in the coals and rotates a spit of possum fillets. "You brought us together, which I already thought was a longshot. Maybe you will get us out."
"Thanks," it's hard to keep sarcasm out of her voice, but she manages. Kayley's fifteen and a spitfire—sneers at everything—but she's clever and too valuable to alienate.
Being a leader is a strange thing. Lyala's parents had a tiny stash of adventure novels, classics. She'd read them all countless times; stories of sea-captains and soldiers, Queens and saints. She'd absorbed their lessons, believing she understood the heart and soul of leadership.
She knows the truth now; being a leader is more like being a sentient fire-extinguisher.
Speaking of which…there's a scream from the caves and she runs to meet it, all thoughts of breakfast blotted out.
Rolly is holding Annie, that wasted girl who's done nothing but moan since her District partner was gutted before her eyes. They have nothing to soothe her with; Rolly's a medic's apprentice, but he can't sew together the mangled edges of her psyche.
"Can you keep her quiet?" it's an old question and Lyala's voice frays as she asks.
He shakes his head. "We're almost out of sedative," he struggles to keep her down; she might be crazy, but she's wiry and frantic.
"Shit. Here," she steps gingerly over the other wounded and adds her weight to Rolly's. Annie whimpers, high and tight like a wounded dog.
"Annie," she whispers, "we've got you. It's okay. You're safe."
It's odd to comfort a girl older than you are, but that's another truth about leadership. You do what you need to when it's needed.
"You're from District Four, right?" there's no reply, but her thrashing calms a bit, "I've never seen the ocean. It must be beautiful; all that water. Like if you swam far enough you could get away from everything. I can't swim," she chuckles, rueful, "no call for it in Six. We stick to the roads and the rails."
"Is…free," Annie's voice is so hoarse Lyala can barely hear, "When you swim…you're free."
"You'll be back there soon."
"No," she writhes again, feverish. "No way out. No way back."
At first she thinks Annie's screaming again, but it's too loud, too violent. A chorus of voices is rising in panicked intensity outside.
The camp's in chaos; kids are running wild trying to get away, but there's nowhere to go. The huge wave swallows the entire plain, and the mountains behind are too steep to climb.
Kayley stands by the fire, unmoved, munching on a scorched root. "I knew they wouldn't let you get away with it," she smiles at Lyala, too stunned to do anything but gape. "It was a nice dream though."
At least it's quick. She has an instant to think how cold the water is before it smashes her in its fist and slams her into the rocks.
The female tribute from District Six died on the twelfth day of the Games.
She was killed in a tidal wave that flooded the arena.
The female tribute from District Four was crowned victor after fourteen days of combat.