"What a shame we all became
Such fragile, broken things
A memory remains
Just a tiny spark."
-Paramore
Oh, thanks, Gamemakers. Thanks. Scientifically, it shouldn't be possible. Snakes don't regenerate. No denying that it would grow more heads if we mutilated it again. There's only one thing we can do at a time like this.
"Run to the beach," I demand. "Go!"
"What about your leg?" Cashmere asks me.
"One of us guys should carry her," Gloss replies.
Brutus points behind his back. "Well, come on, then."
With Cashmere's help, I jump onto his shoulders. Figures. I'm still the size of a child; piggy-back riding won't strain him. But it's hilarious, considering I slept with him last night. My allies continually look back as we're pursued by our reptile friend.
"Quit staring and keep running!" I shout.
Cashmere squeals. "What? You're crazy. It's only gonna kill us!"
"Trust me. I think it'll stop at some point."
We find the shoreline sooner than I thought we might. Just as I'd hoped, behind us comes a SMACK. The anaconda's blocked by the same barrier that blocked the rocks earlier.
"Huh," Gloss says, putting a finger under his chin. "Just when things couldn't get more bizarre…"
"And you're surprised… why?" Brutus asks.
"Nah. Not surprised. Just amazed that Gamemakers would show us any charity after something like that- you know, with that barrier. Even Gold Shark couldn't have killed the snake by herself."
Gold Shark is me. Gloss came up with that nickname fresh off his victory, when he was a seventeen-year old, hormonal kid. Had a giant crush on me. I'm not joking. Haha. The last girlfriend he had- I think- was one of District 1's victors; Diamond Marx. Would make sense, since victors understand one another so well.
Just being near the beach relaxes me. It feels so much like District 4 here that I can almost fool myself into thinking I'm not actually on the land where I'll draw my last breath. We continue trekking through sand in search of tributes. Whether they decide to ally with us or get killed is up to them.
Hold that thought. Now, we've stumbled upon a spacious field of these long, strange plants that I can't quite identify at first. Their tops are shaped like clams, with spikes around their bodies. Cashmere rubs her arm against one and-
"Ow!"
I should say; their mouths.
"You guys. If you're gonna come any closer, stay. Still," she urges. "Venus fly traps only bite if they sense motion. Should've recognized them before… Ah, it's sharp!"
So that's what they are. The Gamemakers have genetically enlarged these fly traps; and each one is about as tall as I am. Cashmere struggles to yank herself from the plant's grip, blood running down her arm. She gives it a whack with her machete. But nothing happens.
I hear her whisper, "Fire." Then, louder: "Somebody, start a fire. I think it won't die otherwise."
"Not until we get you free," Gloss insists. It's he who makes the pull that releases her.
Brutus observes the stone- littered terrain. "How about we don't burn them down? Think that over. That's like destroying the arena."
"Oh. You're right," she replies, ripping off a piece from her sleeve and tying it around to decrease bleeding. I see a grizzly wound where she was bitten. More like chewed. Ugh. It's disgusting. I may have committed the most nauseating kill in Hunger Games history, but I've never, ever, watched a replay of it. I mean, nobody in her right mind enjoys gore.
Option one: go back towards the anaconda. Option two: face Venus fly traps. And the field stretches way, way, way past us.
Our next alternative? Crawling. We go at a snail's pace, one by one, inch by inch, to the safest place within reach. Well, I basically drag myself because of my broken leg. I feel tickling sensations as the fly traps unsuccessfully search for me. My allies and I find ourselves back on sandy, secure ground. Oh, beach, how I missed you!
Though we each sustain a few scratches, our patience is rewarded. A parachute falls beside me, with my district's seal on the package. Awesome. It must be medicine for my leg. Cashmere also receives meds, a salve that will repair broken skin from the Venus fly trap attack. As I predicted, I uncover a vial of liquid in my parachute- it's supposed to heal bones overnight, the label says.
"Thank you!" I yell to the sky. I'm saved! Healed bones are just a sleep away. You wouldn't believe what Capitol doctors have created lately.
And with the vial, a note:
District 4 wishes to reward you, for all the years you spent as one of us. Keep the fight alive, Enobaria. –Annie
Oh, dear Annie Cresta. She's a sweet girl. A little crazy (do not put yourself anywhere near her when fireworks go off; they remind her of cannons), but sweet. Finnick is really good for her. Poor woman will completely lose it when he's gone.
I might, too.
Before I drink, I raise the vial and say, "Here's to the people of District 4."
To a district in rebellion. To their victors. To the place where I spent the best days of my life.
It's hard, watching above when the fallen tributes are honored. They weren't strangers to me. Far from it. Beetee isn't one of them. How the heck did he survive my blade? I must not have thrown very hard. Oh well. Surely he's become debilitated, which is a terrible place to be on just the first day.
Look who's talking, eh?
All in all, eight victors have fallen. Eight people who went to hell and back and survived; only to be thrown into hell once more. Last night, we were a team joining hands. Nearly like… like a family. How did we suddenly betray those deceased victors? How could we? Only seventy-five people in the entire country have known real bloodshed. The pain we fought so hard to bury. We have a bond nobody else would comprehend.
I hate to say it, but President Snow was right. Even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol.
