Chapter 6

Adrian Martinez, District 5

I must admit, I'm worried about Baylyn. The sun is going down, and she doesn't look too good. She can't really go much of anywhere with her broken ribs, and I'm not so hot myself ever since my arm got ripped up. We're a couple of invalid old coots, I guess. But as long as we don't die, I'm fine with that.

The anthem begins to play. I recognize the faces, of course. Wilf Errol from District 3 and Mikki Kismet from District 9. I tell Baylyn, but it doesn't seem like she cares much.

"I don't know. I just don't want to start feeling close to them," She says reluctantly.

I nod. "I understand."

We sit in silence for a moment, until Baylyn shifts slightly and winces in pain.

I frown. I don't like seeing her in pain, but I don't know how to help her ribs.

"Sorry Baylyn," I say. It's not my fault, I know. But it's the only thing I can think to say to show solidarity. "Anything I can do?"

She chuckles darkly. "Not unless you have magic powers."

"Wish we had one of those District 2 kids, huh? Medicine and all."

"Maybe you do have one."

We whip around. The tall grasses part, and the image of a smallish sort of boy is defined in the artificial light from the sky. He must have snuck up on us pretty well, because I had no idea he was behind us. I'm a little annoyed, to be honest. I don't like the idea that something could happen right behind my back and I could miss it. That's not like me.

I can see him vaguely by the light of the fading seal. His hair is straw blond, with little streaks of brown. Actually, it kind of looks like straw too, the way it sticks into thin clumps. He's skinny, with lots of freckles, I think. His eyes look gray, but it's a little hard to tell with the colors of the seal reflecting off of them. He holds out his hand.

"Hary Lumer. Pleased to meet you."

I shake tentatively, deciding not to point out that I already knew his name. Don't feel like explaining the photographic memory things at the moment. "Err...Adrian Martinez."

He holds his hand out to Baylyn.

"Baylyn Homer."

"So, you two in need of a doctor?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah. How'd you know?" I ask.

"I heard you two talking during the anthem. That's how I snuck up on you, by the way. Your attention was on the anthem and each other. Might want to watch that. Dropping your focus could be bad," he says matter-of-factly. It's annoying. Of course we know this. What does he think we are, idiots?

"What's the damage, then?" He asks, rubbing his hands together.

"Broken ribs, we think," Baylyn says with a wince. Actually, when I say wince, I mean a larger and more noticeable wince. She winces a little bit every time she breathes. I frown. She's in pain, and it's my fault even if I didn't mean it. I guess these are the Hunger Games, but I respect Baylyn. I'll have to hurt people to win, but I would prefer she not be one of them.

"May I?" Hary asks politely. Baylyn nods and he puts a hand on her ribcage. He pokes her intently for a few moments, and she sucks in a breath of pain.

"Yep. Broken," he announces. "I take it you'll want my help?"

"You're going to heal Baylyn, just like that?" I say suspiciously.

"No. Of course you'll have to pay me," he says.

"In...food?" I ask.

"Works for me," Hary says with a shrug.

"I don't know. We're a little low on-" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"You want her to keep stumbling around with broken ribs? What if she punctures a lung or something?"

My mouth works. Can that happen? I don't know. He's either conning us or Baylyn's in danger. I don't like this feeling or not knowing if I'm being used. Normally I can read anyone, like an open book. It's all about observation, something I'm pretty dang good at. But now there's a little voice in the back of my head asking, "But what if you're wrong?"

"Okay, fine," I grumble.

"Alright. A bottle of water, and a days worth of food to treat her ribs?" Lumer confirms.

"Yeah."

"Let's get started then," Lumer says, rubbing his hands together again. I'm starting to find that really annoying. He cracks his neck and tells Baylyn to lie down. He rolls her shirt up almost too far for comfort and begins fishing around in his bag. He pulls out, of all things, tape. Medical tape, but still. His hands gently move across her ribcage, finding the break. He begins laying down stripes of tapes.

"What are those supposed to do?" I ask irritably.

"Restrict movement, but not breathing." He answers absently.

It takes a couple minutes for him to finish, after which he rolls Baylyn's shirt back down.

"So...is that it?" She asks with a grimace. Obviously this has not something she enjoyed so much.

"That's about it, except for painkiller," He agrees. "For that you can use Capitol medicine, poppy, turmeric, or even olive oil if you can get your hands on a bottle."

"How do we know what those look like?" I ask.

"Here. I have some I can show you," Lumer rummages in his bag again, before pulling out a couple of plants and some pills. After a brief lesson in plant recognition, Lumer's ready to close this business deal and go. I shell out the food and water reluctantly, and he smiles pleasantly.

"Pleasure doing business with you folks," he says with a smile. He flips his shaggy hair out of his eyes and heads off, walking fully upright under the cover of the night.

"Us girls. We are sure are high maintenance," Baylyn jokes, biting her lip as she leans back, gasping as her ribs are mildly jolted.

"Sure are," I grumble. And I'm not joking at all.

Berra Timsing, District 11

He's so infuriating. I tried to lose him, but he wouldn't be left behind.

Once I cut myself free enough times to make my way over to Mattrick, the tree had stopped moving. No warning, no explanation. Just stopped. I kept cutting. I was tired. Exhausted. I barely managed to stay conscious to cut him down (but I was awake enough to appreciate the grunt he gave as he landed on his back) and then free my ankles for the last time.

He caught me when I fell, which I found really annoying. I didn't want to feel grateful to this jerk. But then again, he was a lot softer than the ground. I didn't even notice that he'd gotten his arms out of the branches or vines or arms or whatever, but he caught me. He put me down and started cutting off the braches that had twisted around his waist. I couldn't have cared less. I just wanted to go to sleep.

All of the sudden I heard him swear. It was kind of a funny word, probably a District 4 thing. I forced my head up and opened my eyes a tiny bit. Hmm. Apparently the tree was attacking again. Funny, but I somehow didn't care anymore.

Mattrick was shouting something. I think he was shouting at me, probably to watch out or help. I was pretty much incapable of anything but lying there at that point, so I ignored him. I was so sore. It had taken more than an hour, doing what was pretty much curl ups the whole time. My stomach muscles were so tense I figured they were self-destructing

His hand gripped my shoulder, but I didn't respond. To my surprise, he tossed me over his shoulder and booked it. I would never have pegged him as the strong type; he was too annoying.

I forced my head up. I was over his shoulder, looking back at the tree. Well, the sort of tree. I was suddenly wide-awake.

The tree had risen up again, using its roots like spiders' legs. I could see the part where the trunk connected the ground. Underneath it there weren't just roots. There was a…something hanging below it. Something that looks very mammalian. It was like there was some growth on the bottom of the tree.

Then Mattrick tripped.

I went flying over his head. I rolled to a stop, eyes flashing wildly with adrenaline. The tree overtook Mattrick almost immediately. I thought he was a goner (and me too, in effect), but as the tree barreled over him, he buried the knife, over and over, into the whatever-it-was growing from the trunk.

The tree made this horrible screeching noise before it fell. Mattrick scampered backwards on his butt, eyes wide. The branches and roots thrashed in…death throes, I guess.

We sat wide-eyed and watched as the thing stopped moving with a moaning sound. The…thing was dead. And what was it, really? It must have been some bizarre mutt, a grafting together of animal and vegetable. In silence, Mattrick and I began to laugh. It was an unstable laugh of pure relief, but nothing else would have fit.

I'd fallen asleep almost immediately. The anthem woke me up. I frowned. I wouldn't be able to etch my tree tonight. I'd have to wait for tomorrow. After the two faces slipped out of the sky I went back to sleep. I expected Mattrick to split during the night (probably with my knife), but when I woke up he was still here, all bright and shiny.

"Goooooood morning," he chirped. "I found some kinda eggs in a bird's nest a little way off. I don't have any matches though, so we'll have to eat them r-"

"Wait," I interrupted, "Why are you still here?"

He raised an eyebrow. "We're allies now, so shouldn't we-"

"What? No we aren't. Since when?" I butt in again.

"Since we fought the monster tree. Y'know, with the whole," he makes a weird face and wiggles his fingers like the vine branches, mimicking the tree's dying roars, "thing."

"That was a one-time thing, sorry. I don't want any allies," I say firmly.

"Well…too bad for you. Because you're stuck with me now," he said with a smile.

And let me tell you, he was serious.

"Will you just go away?" I shout for the billionth time.

"Nope," he chirps.

Nothing I have done has been enough to lose this boy. And I'm about to hurt somebody. Somebody named Mattrick Brint.

But I don't. At least, I'm not going to yet.

Jerrica DeJoro, District 10

I clutch my small axe. I've never used one before, but it was the first thing I happened to grab at the horn thing.

My cheeks are dry, but it's mostly because I ran out of tears on the first day. Or at least, the honest to goodness tears that leave sticky-salty tracks down my cheeks. I still feel like I'm crying. There's that rushing weakness, that trembling. That lack of willingness to change things.

Inside, I'm still crying.

A rustling that is not my own breaks my concentration as I stumble through the tall foliage. I freeze in terror and a white-blond head breaks through the grass

Surprisingly, I recognize her. Kiteriin Fromet, from District 7. The only reason I paid attention to her was because she was the only one who cried almost as much as me. But she's not crying right now. Now the look in her eyes is fierce and…murderous.

She screams a battle cry, and I turn and run in terror. I hear her feet thumping behind me. I should turn and fight. I have my axe. But I can't. Tears find their way down my cheeks as I run for my life, too stupid, afraid, and helpless to turn and save myself.

I hate me.

That thought explodes behind my temples, and my tears now fall in frustration. Why am I so weak?

I trip over a rock, sprawling forward. Kiteriin grabs my axe as I fall, her teeth bared like a madwoman's. She flips me over and raises the axe above her head.

There's no escaping it, as the axe swings downward. Everything feels slow, but I'm slow too. I can't move in time. But I can think in time.

My tears have done nothing. I have sat and cried and cried, and all I have to show for it is swollen eyes and a legacy of cowardice. My tears are disgraceful. My tears were never a comfort, but I was too weak to do anything else. I don't want to be weak anymore.

I steel myself as Kiteriin swings down. I still the tremors in the core of myself; I stop the rain down my cheeks. I will face my death, not with cowardice, but defiance.

With my last breath, I stop crying.

Surviving Contestants:

District 1: Wesley Sawr (Wez-lee Sahr)

Baylyn Homer (Bay-lin Ho-mur)

District 2: Hary Lumer (Hawr-ee Loo-mur)

Eewyn Carre (Yew-in Cuh-ray)

District 3: Nolaf Killt (No-lof Kilt)

Eviu Navers (Ee-vee-you Na-vurs)

District 4: Mattrick Brint (Ma-trick Brihnt)

Evita Cormichael (Eh-vee-tuh Core-michael)

District 5: Adrian Martinez (Ay-dree-un Mar-tee-nez)

District 6: Indigo Resham (In-dih-go Resh-um)

Winona Sweet (Wih-no-nuh Sweet)

District 7: Kiteriin Fromet (Kit-er-een Fro-met)

District 8: Caspian Toushone (Cas-pee-in Too-shown)

Roe Tamden (Row Tam-dan)

District 9: none

District 10: Reno Serman (Ree-no Ser-mahn)

District 11: Dewq Deffen (Duke Def-in)

Berra Timsing (Bare-uh Tim-zing)

District 12: none