Wren POV
Wren leaped from her platform the second the gong rang out; before her mind even registered the sound had occurred.
She had the sword in her hand before the others had even reached the cornucopia. As quickly as she could, Wren hoisted a glaring green backpack onto one arm and a handful of throwing knives in another.
A large, hulking figure approached her, and Wren plunged the blade towards his chest. The district four tribute, however, twisted out of the way easily and grabbed her by the hair. Wren cried out, but the sound was lost in the roar of battle.
He reached for a wickedly sharpened blade on the ground and smiled cruelly at her. A low, pitiful whimper of fear escaped from her lips, and his mouth spread even wider.
In an impulsive action, Wren lashed out, legs thrashing about. One booted foot caught him solidly in a strategic location, and the tribute doubled over. Wren twisted out of his grasp, and then she ran.
Wren sensed a figure approaching behind her. With a snarl, she whirled around, swinging her sword.
Her eyes widened in horror as she realized that she had been swinging at Phobos. Luckily, he had been farther away from her than she had calculated, so he was unscathed. Or, no, not unscathed. He was holding his wrist as if it pained him.
His mouth opened, and he gaped like a fish, but Wren shook her head. Grabbing his uninjured arm, she pulled him into the relative cover of the bushes nearby. They crawled until the sounds of the battle had faded behind them. Once she was sure that nobody could see them, Wren gestured to Phobos that they should run.
When they finally came to a stop, the afternoon was well underway. Nine cannons sounded, counting the number of deaths.
"Next time, don't…run….so fast." Phobos panted.
Wren did not respond. She had collapsed into a pile on the floor and was desperately struggling to calm her breathing and slow her raging heartbeat.
"Don't worry, I've learned my lesson," she finally managed to croak out. Once that was done, she sat up and inspected her sword for the first time. A broadsword by the look of it, about four and a half feet long, three inches wide at the base, and tapering down to a point at the tip. The metal was the dark color of tarnished silver, and the blade shimmered cruelly in the afternoon light. The hilt was of the same metal, was wrapped in smooth straps of black leather, and the intricate pommel was set with a deep, blood-red stone the color of Wren's hair.
Sliding the blade back into its sheath, she tucked it into her belt and stood. Wren gazed about her, hands on her hips. Somewhere along the wild escape, her hair had come loose, and now the red strands tumbled about every which way.
Her scalp prickled painfully as she shook her head, a reminder of how the district four tribute had captured her by holding onto her hair.
She shrugged mentally, unable to do anything to better the situation as it was.
"What happened to your wrist?" Wren questioned.
"Oh, That? I tripped into a tree. It's probably sprained."
Wren sighed, then quickly changed the subject. "What did you pick up back there?"
"This bag, which is filled with…stuff. I haven't actually checked."
"Well, now's a good a time as any, I suppose. But we should find a more secluded place to do it."
Phobos nodded curtly and strode into the impenetrable cover of two intertwined weeping willows. Wren followed close behind.
Inside, the pair emptied out their bags and supplies. Wren had a packet of dried beef, two small bottles of water, and a length of ultra-thin rope. Phobos unearthed a thick woolen blanket, another two bags of died beef and water, and a small bottle of water-purifier. He also had several weapons: a knife as long as Wren's forearm, a longsword and shield, and a much smaller knife.
With a sigh, Wren stood up. "I'm going to go scout around," she announced. "To cover our trail, look for nearby enemies, and search out possible sources of food." You should rest, now. That wrist could cause problems later on."
Phobos opened his mouth as if to argue, but changed his mind upon glimpsing her determined face.
With a smile in his direction, Wren turned and strode into the forest.
Galen POV
Galen hissed in frustration, forcing his fingers away from the control panel that would sync a pack of bloodthirsty mutts on that Phobos. As much as he wanted to kill the main competitor for Wren's heart, he knew he had to restrain from the task. The Capitol residents were happy. No need to overwhelm them.
He turned away from Phobos and turned to face Wren.
She was walking quietly in the forest with the innate grace of a dancer. She looked for any tell-tale tracks leading to her hideout, but the strong wind had already taken care of that. Galen had made sure that the wind would target every last footprint that they had made.
Satisfied, Wren walked around the tree, searching for water or food. About two hundred yards away from the tree, she found a small stream, barely a trickle. And next to that, she found a bramble of thorny branches.
Wren's hand unconsciously twitched to her sore scalp, thinking. She gathered several branches before hurrying back to shelter out of the wind.
Once inside the cover of willows, she created a clumsy rope out of the twine in her pack and the large thorns. Once she had a length a little longer than her own hair, Wren tied the strap into her hair. Slowly, mindful of the thorns, she re-braided her hair.
Galen suppressed the urge to laugh out loud. Smart girl, he praised. Anyone who tried to pull the trick the district four tribute boy had would get a painful surprise.
Galen chuckled quietly to himself before glancing at the rest of the screens dedicated to Wren. In the past five minutes, the amount of people betting for her had doubled, and she had added quite a few more sponsors.
All in all, it was going great for the district six tribute.
Once Wren had taken care of her own needs, she turned to Phobos, who was clutching his wrist in pain. Wren frowned in concern upon realizing that the arm was even more swollen than before.
"What did you do?" she asked, rather roughly.
"Oh, well, I didn't want to feel useless, so I, well, I, climbed the tree to see if I could get a better lookout."
"You fool! You did that with a sprained wrist? You could have fallen and broken your neck, and then where would we be?"
"I'm sorry." he murmured sheepishly. His eyes were downcast, and a deep flush of shame colored his cheeks.
Wren bit her lip. She had not wished to injure his pride quite so much. Sighing an apology, she sat down next to Phobos. "It's just that, here, nobody will wait for you to heal. They'll attack when you're weakest, and I can't let that happen."
He looked up at her from beneath a mop of unruly brown hair, his coffee-colored eyes glimmering with unasked questions.
Wren's heat faltered, then picked up, fluttering like a caged bird in her chest. "We should try to fix that arm of yours," she murmured, not looking at him.
"Wren-" he began, but she had already gotten up from the ground and pulled the large knife from his pack. Without looking back at him, Wren cut a few sturdy branches from the willow.
She split the wood into two flat slats, each about six inches long. Wren briefly cast about for something to bind up the wrist. "Give me that belt," she intoned.
He looked up, surprised, but did not argue as he handed the leather to her. Wren wrapped the material tightly over the wooden slats and wrist. Once done, she used the remainder of the string to hold the whole thing together.
Wren sighed, looking at the sad lump binding his wrist.
Galen laughed, looking at it. She had rendered him basically useless for now. Even if he did nothing at all, the likelihood was that Phobos would get himself killed within the next few weeks.
Galen clenched his jaw as he watched the two huddled together between the enormous roots of the tree, trying to keep warm in the cool air.
Scowling, he turned away from the screens dedicated to district six and pressed the button that caused the anthem to play and the dead faces be broadcast.
During the initial bloodbath, nine tributes had died. The girl from three, both of the five tributes, the girl from seven, the boy from eight, both from nine, and the pairs from ten and eleven had all been eliminated from the games that day.
