:) And this is where my Games become original.
Holy craps o.o look at all the tributes being cast! Anyone notice how all but two of the guys have black hair? O_o
"This is killing my hair!"
I grit my teeth. If Silk says that again I'm going to slap her silly. This is not the place to worry about how you look.
Silk flounders around a bit then manages to grip the tree enough to keep herself above water. Sawyer, too, is clinging to the tree like a squirrel. The boys, at least, try to seem dignified while gripping a tree like a lifeline. Only Pisces and I casually tread water as we survey the area.
It's not like I didn't believe Claudius. When the Gamemakers decree something then it's going to happen. If they decide that they want the entire arena to burst into flames then, dammit, it will burst into flames! If they want muttations to chase all the tributes together then that'll happen. And if they decide to flood the arena then, well, you better believe they will.
But I'll admit that I am a bit surprised how high the water is by the time we reach the island. It's over my head now and I'm one of the tallest female tributes. Silk and Sawyer are tied to me by a rope so I can guide them through the water. Pisces and I exchange frustrated looks every thirty seconds or so as another complaint is issued by one of our allies. They've been conditioned to kill for years and years…and they can't handle a little water? What's up with that?
We float near the tree line and watch the island apprehensively. Ol' Scaly hasn't shown his face yet, but how long will that last? Do we have to fight our way across or is he gone?
"We should just get up there." Arno grumbles. "Before this water gets too high!"
Too high? I've swam in water that's so deep that the pressure near the bottom is enough crush boats like rotten oranges. He, like the others, is what we in District 4 call a landlubber. Water to him is completely alien.
"Alright, but if that thing jumps us I'm letting it eat you first," I warn him and kick off from the tree. Sawyer yelps as she's yanked away from her tree and she swallows a pint of water. Silk goes under and when she surfaces she snarls out curses, insulting me, my mother, and every last one of us "swimmers." I lean forward a bit more and kick up some water in her face.
We make it to the island without being attacked and I help them out of the water onto the slippery ground. I untie the ropes and stow them in my bag while they ring their hair and clothes out, removing their boots to empty the little water that got inside then march over to their plates.
I squeeze my hair out as much as I can without taking it down then I leave the rest for the sun to dry. I stand on one of the District 4 plates and Pisces joins me a moment later. He looks rather content compared to our disgruntled allies. I can't help but smile and he grins back.
"Landlubbers," I roll my eyes and earn a reproachful glare from Jules who, at least, is smart enough to recognize and insult when he hears one.
About a minute later, another tribute appears, floundering through the water. Years of seeing people soaking wet has made me good at identifying hair colors. The female approaching us most likely has reddish brown hair when she's dry. ...Looks like...Annalee from District 5.
How is she even swimming? I doubt they have a lake to practice swimming in that district. Maybe something in our clothes is buoyant... I'm still mulling it over as she scrambles onto land and takes her place on the plate next to mine.
Her eyes flick around, taking in our group members, and she swallows nervously. I don't blame her. If I hadn't been assured a slow and painful end, I would've killed her the moment she got within shooting range. I'm not the only one. She starts shivering after a few seconds and, out of uncharacteristic pity, I mutter with unmoving lips: "Wring your clothes out."
She glances up at me then cautiously begins to squeeze the water out of her jacket and shirt. Her only weapon seems to be a small knife and other than a bottle of water tied to her waist by a rope, she has no supplies.
The next to come are the pair from District 9. Weapons out and expressions wary, they scamper across the island to their plates. Then Lister comes, followed by Fleece a few minutes later, and Proy comes about half a minute after her. Proy gives Sawyer a look of pure hatred and loathing and snarls something to her after a few seconds on his plate. She snaps back, her hand twitching towards the axe on her belt. Hara skitters onto the island about a minute later and then we wait in silence for about twenty minutes.
Dawn is creeping steadily closer and Skyler finally shows as the sky is starting to turn pink. The District 8 tributes need to hurry.
They show up just in the nick of time. Ellery looks tired and is riding piggyback on Garret. My mouth falls open in shock. Being allies is one thing. Protecting a friend is, too. But piggyback rides in the middle of the Hunger Games? What if they'd been ambushed? Even one-armed Fleece could've taken them out before they knew what hit them. Garret should just kill the little girl quickly and be done with it.
They're barely on their plates when the sun breaks through the horizon and as Ellery's feet touch the metal, the water begins to recede. We all watch the water level drop and drop and drop until, just a minute or so later, the water has completely gone except for the now current free river surrounding this island.
"Freaky." Pisces mutters and I nod. I've seen some pretty fast moving tides in my childhood, but that was just ridiculous! The others have little to compare it to, but most of them seem shocked.
The idea of the Gamemakers controlling the tides and currents in the arena freaks me out. We, Pisces and I, have always been taught that the water is merciless. It may tolerate you for a time but at any moment it could claim you and add you to the endless collection of dead accumulated throughout time. The Gamemakers do not deserve that power...yet they have it anyway. I feel my face flushing with rage and I realize I have my teeth clenched so tightly that they hurt. The trumpets begin to blare.
"Welcome!" Claudius greets us.
I wipe my face of all emotion except impatience.
"I am glad you all decided to come!" I'll bet he is. "There is been a slight addition to this years Games. Are you ready?"
"Do we have a choice?" the young tribute beside me mutters.
"You are each going to have an ally who you will depend on for survival. If you die, your ally will die. If you ally dies then you die. Ladies you will each select a plate. That plate will have the district number of your new partner on it. As soon as you each have a partner then you are free to do whatever you like."
Translation: Truce over, get back to killing each other.
This also means that the Career alliance is over. I look up at Pisces and I can tell the same thought is crossing his mind. He gives me a regretful look. Sorry but we're enemies now.
But where are we supposed to get these plates? Are they just going to fall out of the sky?
No. They're on the table that rises from the ground in the middle of the island. I wait until the table clicks into place then I fly forward. Maybe we were supposed to wait or maybe the mad rush is exactly what they want. I reach forward and snag a random plate then leap away from the table so the others aren't tempted to take a stab at me while they collect their plates.
My curiosity melts into horror when I read the number on the plate.
8.
District 8. District freaking no-nature-or-chance-to-learn-survival-skills 8. Garret Kollin, the boy who gets kisses at the reaping and gives out piggy-back rides.
This isn't...fair!
I want a new plate! No, too late. They're all taken. Nothing to do now but work with what I've got. I whirl and sprint towards Garret. He sees me coming and glances around nervously.
"Move!" I growl, shoving him off his plate towards the water.
The others seem to realize that this could shape up to be another bloodbath because I hear a commotion stirring behind me. Garret turns back to look and I shove him into the water.
"Wait!" he looks at me. "Ellery—?"
"Forget her!" I push him along towards the shore. "Just move it! I don't plan on dying here! She's got someone taking care of her, now go!"
He looks over my head again and I ram into him, sending him floundering across the water. We climb out and I take off running. He seems to have enough sense to know he needs to follow. I hear him keeping up with me and I'm glad because I want to get back to the Cornucopia fast. If we get there first then we can snag some supplies and be on our way before someone else shows up.
A cannon fires and I freeze, looking back towards the island. Garret does, too, and we wait. For another cannon that signifies the death of the dead tribute's ally. Instead we hear a high-pitched screaming. And I know who it is. Only one person is capable of screaming like that.
"Ellery!" Garret shouts, distraught. He looks ready to sink to the ground so I slap him right across the face.
"Get a hold of yourself, moron!" I snap. "This is the Hunger Games! There's no saving her now, she's done. We have to go now! If we can get to the Cornucopia first then we can get some of the supplies because, let's face it, you know as much about nature as a whale knows about dry land."
As I finish, the wailing of the youngest tribute cuts off and a cannon is fired. No more Ellery.
For a moment, I picture the little girl in my imagination from the night of the interviews. Ellery's little sister must be crying, now, holding the teddy bear. The pictures on their walls that will never be completed…bare spaces where her art never got a chance to reach…
Garret sighs sadly and presses his forefinger to his forehead then touches his heart. "Good bye, little one." he murmurs then looks up at me with an angry expression. "Fine. Let's go."
In a way, I'm actually glad Ellery is dead. She was his weakness. With her gone he can focus on the Games and not worry about whether the next pair of tributes we find will contain his district partner.
We fly through the woods towards the Cornucopia, slowing down only a bit to conserve energy, then we speed up again. Without the rising water the trip takes much less time than it did last night and we make it to the golden horn about an hour and a half after we departed the island.
We don't see anyone on the way back but I have no doubt that we aren't the only ones en rout. We are the first ones to arrive, though, and the moment I climb out of the water I'm racing towards the Cornucopia and cut the netting open. Despite the flooding, none of the supplies seem too damaged. The nets probably saved it from being washed away. I grab two packs and hand one to Garret.
"Load food, water, medical supplies, fire starters, and all that. I'll get the other stuff. Hurry, someone else could show up at any minute."
He nods and gets to work. I load blades of all sorts, a few cooking utensils, some socks and gloves, fishing line, and I swing another quiver and a bow onto my back.
From the woods I hear someone yelp in pain.
"Go, go!" I gasp and Garret flies out of the golden horn. I'm about to follow when a golden glint catches my eye. The one and only trident in this arena. My hand moves automatically and I flee the Cornucopia with my district's signature weapon. I look in the direction of noise and see Arno heading across the water with Sterra of District 9 hurrying after him, clutching her arm to her chest.
He got District 9? Poor guy. I give him a friendly salute and hurry across the river. I hear the whizzing of a weapon behind me but I'm long gone by the time it hits the spot where I'd been.
I'm not sure how long Garret and I run after that. I've not been in this area of the arena before. If we hadn't gone towards the island last night then this would've been our hunting ground. We eventually stop beside a large river to rest.
I set down all the supplies and instruct him to do the same. While I sort through it he hovers anxiously nearby. I look up at him expectantly and he just stares.
"Help me." I snap after another minute of working solo. He sits down and helps me separate the food, weapons, and other items.
"I'm...Garret. Garret Kollin." he says timidly. "You're Dylan."
"Dylan Syle." I confirm and smile a bit. "Don't call me Dilly."
"Wasn't planning on it."
"Good."
We work in silence for a few more minutes and I sigh. It doesn't take a genus to know who's on his mind. "Was Ellery a friend?"
"Yeah, sort of. I mean, her Dad knows my Dad, and we've talked a few times. I did have to baby sit her and her little siblings some times, you know, before I got old enough to work in the factory."
I nod. "And what about Julie?"
He looks down at his work, probably to hide his face from the cameras.
"What? Catfish got your tongue?"
He snickers. "Catfish? Isn't that a little…weird?"
"Isn't avoiding my question a little annoying?"
He scowls. "Touché. I said it all at the interview. She's a really good friend of mine."
"Just a friend?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. But since I'm going to die here, why bother thinking about something that can never happen?"
I nod, actually feeling sorry. Not that I'd ever admit it. "Fair point."
He smiles a bit, seeming to like my easy attitude. "You know, there was a rumor flying around the Training Center that you—"
I look up sharply and arch one eyebrow. He hesitates, suddenly unsure. "Go on." I command.
"That you and Finnick, erm…"
He trails off and my mouth falls open in horror. Finnick is probably having a real good laugh about this! I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill that no-good, salt-ridden, Capitol-pet, asshole!
My rage must reflect on my face because my "ally" raises his hands in the traditional 'Whoa Nelly' fashion. "Hey! Don't shoot the messenger!"
I seethe and bare my teeth. "That is not true. He's an arrogant self-centered…eel!"
"Eel?"
I ignore him. "Ugh! Let's get this straight really quickly. Finnick is just a friend from my childhood. He's just a kid I used to beat up after he put fish guts down our shirts. Nothing has ever or will ever happen between us as long as I have any say in the matter. I do not have any feelings like that for him."
Near the end, I'm actually speaking to Annie Cresta back home. She'd be crushed if she thought I was hitting on Finnick.
"Ok, alright." He surrenders. "Calm down. I just wanted to know."
I snort but I'm glad he told me. Best to nip something like that in the bud as quickly as possible.
We work in silence after that. He has the sense to not pry into my personal life and I really am not interested in finding out more about him. Not at the moment, anyway.
Once the supplies are sorted I hand him some bread, an apple, and a bottle of water, then take the same for me. "We need to keep moving," I say between bites of the bread.
"Where to?"
"Have you been in this part of the arena yet?"
He shakes his head.
"Then we'll just follow the river and see where it takes us."
He nods and rises to his feet then holds his hand out politely. I frown and stand on my own. He raises his eyebrows then puts his hand on the hilt of the sword in his belt. I stuff knives into my belt and give him one quiver and a bow and keep the other one on my back.
"I can't work these," he warns.
"I don't need you to," I say. "I just need you to carry them in case I need them."
"I really don't want to get on your bad side," he comments while examining my array of weapons, his eyes lingering on the trident.
I smirk. "No, no you don't."
Several hours of walking along the river later I decide we can stop again. No one would be able to sneak up on us without making a splash so I'm not too worried. I tie two lengths of rope to a tree branch and then tie our packs to them, hoisting them high off the ground so they can't be reached or soiled then tie them off on the tree. I left all my weapons in the packs except for the trident and a knife I secretly slip into my boot then face Garret with the trident.
"Alright, District 8, I saw you fighting Sawyer at the Cornucopia. She wasn't our best fighter but you were holding your own well enough. If you hadn't fled you might've beaten her."
"I couldn't risk it." He explains. "Not with Ellery…"
I press my lips together and bite back a few insults. Damn little girl.
"She's dead, Garret." I explain gently, as if to a child. "She's gone, never coming back. Nothing you say is going to change that. You know what this arena means for most. You knew coming in here that she wasn't coming out, just like she did. If you want a chance at even making it to the final eight then you're going to have to get it together. I know how it is. I've lost friends to the waters. I've lost family. I know it hurts but you can grieve later. Right now you need to focus."
His face is virtually emotionless, a habit probably picked up from his years in the factories where Peacekeepers and superiors monitor them, from his life in a district where you're hung for stealing. In a place like that you probably need to keep a straight face nearly all the time. Not for the first time in this arena, I'm glad I'm from District 4.
He nods once.
"Alright, then, pick up your sword. Show me what you've got." I raise the trident meaningfully.
Garret eyes widen and I smirk just a bit. He picks up his sword and the blade shakes a bit. He's barely got it at the ready when I lunge. He dodges and swipes. I duck to avoid then swing the trident. Our weapons clash. I let my mind shut down and I focus only on the fight. Swing, miss, duck, swing again, jump, lunge, dodge, swing…
He's doing better than I thought until he makes a crucial error. I take advantage of it and bring the trident down, smacking him in the legs with the flat side of the fork. He loses his balance and smashes down. My trident is inches from his face before he can even move. We stay like that for a moment, me ready to stab and him staring up at me. Then I smile and stand back and hold the trident out beside me.
That took probably a full sixty seconds. Nearly fifty-five seconds longer than I'd originally assumed.
"Not bad." I say as he stands. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"When we weren't working to get some food, my friends and I used to use poles we found outside the factories for epic sword fights."
I can't help but laugh because we did similar things when growing up. For one of the first times since I got into the arena, I remember Rilee and my hand flies to my neck where her—my—okay, our token still rests and I smile. I wonder if she ever played games with us when we were young. And I suddenly have a desire to know everything about her and her Hunger Games. I should've asked Tina or Alaina to get me the tape—when I get out this place I'll watch it…
"Hey! District 8 to 4, come in 4!"
"Huh?" I blink rapidly, stupidly.
"You looked miles away." He says not bothering to hide his curiosity.
"Oh I was just thinking." I admit. "We used to play games like that when I was younger."
He smiles and gives me a knowing look. "I suppose that's how you learned to fight so well?"
"Yes." I wink. "And wrestling with sharks every other day makes for good practice."
Garret laughs.
That night we set up camp just a few hundred yards from the river. I want to campout in a tree but Garret doesn't. I fight with him about it—verbal only—and I finally tell him he can stay down on the ground for all I care but I would be up in the tree. Then the idiot tries to start a campfire and I have to chew him out and remind him that just because the Career's have disbanded doesn't mean he can relax. We're all still alive and some of the others, especially Jules and maybe Arno by now, will be hunting tonight.
He makes a face. "The what's?"
"The Careers...don't you all call us that?" I frown. I thought that became the universal name for us ages ago.
His eyes flicker with understanding. "Oh. We call you the Bloodhounds. Bloodhounds were hunting dogs a long time ago and the Capitol uses them for tracking, I think. In 8 we call you guys the Bloodhounds because you hunt us all wanting to spill our blood for the victory."
For some reason, I like the name 'Career Tribute' better.
Sometime later, we watch the as the seal appears in the sky and then is replaced by a picture of Proy from 7. He must've been Ellery's partner. I wonder if Sawyer killed him. Ellery's picture replaces his and beside me, Garret makes the same gesture as earlier—forefinger to the forehead then chest—and murmurs something. Then her face vanishes and the seal reappears.
I get the logic behind their ally plan, now. The Games will drag out longer but when a death comes, another will surely follow. Knowing the Gamemakers, they'll want as much blood spilt as possible. They'll have put something in place to render the partner helpless until he or she is finished off. Judging by Ellery's screaming I'd say something incapacitated her before she could be killed. And whatever it was it hurt like hell.
That makes my eyes widen and my mind flicks back to the hovercraft, where something else hurt like hell.
"Of course…" I whisper.
"What?" he tilts his head.
"Those chips they put into our arms." I say. "The one that wasn't a tracker, it's got something to do with this, I know it!"
"What do you mean?"
"Think about it. There had to be something to stop tributes from killing their ally and it's the promise of death. Ellery screamed after Proy's cannon. She was in agony and you know it. Something caused her that kind of pain and I just don't think it was another tribute. It was that other chip."
"Do you think it killed her?"
"No…they would want another tribute to do it. That way there's blood."
"That…" he frowns. "I can see why you'd say that…it does make sense…but…it just seems way too easy to figure out. I think they'd find it more...thrilling to have us working to figure out why the partners die, too."
"Well, then, let's give them a show."
"What?"
"We test my theory. We'll be getting some insight on what we're dealing with, be eliminating some competitors, and be entertaining the Capitol at the same time."
"Dylan..." he looks horrified that I've suggested something like that.
"Start a campfire. I've got a plan."
Tee hee. I love Garret ^^