Chapter 9: Down to the Wire
As Zeppina had predicted, the hill is a safe choice to hide out. It takes us about another three hours to walk after we leave the lake, but we are fortunate enough not to run into anyone else. The snow stops falling about halfway through our trek, and the sky once again becomes clear and bright. It definitely made traveling easier, but I can't stop my eyes from narrowing at the change in weather¾it only began to clear up the closer we got to the Cornucopia, and by extension, the Careers.
I inspect the area when we finally stop walking, all of us deciding it best to take a small break so that we don't tire ourselves out. Like the area near the Cornucopia, the land is green, various small plants and trees growing from the ground. It's a welcome change from the rugged terrain near the lake, the only downside being that there appears to be no water, unless we want to venture to the stream. Of course, none of us are stupid enough to suggest such a thing. From where we are on the mountain, I can easily make out several figuresI count four, guessing the other seven are out hunting— surrounding the ice block that is the Cornucopia. Even with the reduced numbers, you'd have to be a complete idiot to go anywhere near there. The Careers are guarding "their" supplies closely. Two of them are hacking away at it, but from what I can see, they have yet to break in and procure the desired items. A small smirk lights my features. Good. Maybe now they'll know what likes for the rest of us.
"So what exactly took you so long?" Zeppina asks Barden, who like me, is busy surveying our temporary rest spot.
I turn to look at him as well. I'm curious about where he's been. It took him almost twenty-four hours to find us. I don't think Barden is the type of person who would trick us or betray us, and he did save Zeppina's life, but I can't help but wonder what he'd been doing that whole time. Though, I wouldn't put it past him to be going around the arena making friends with the other tributes. Ha! That'd be something new. I wonder what the Gamemakers would do with that.
The boy in question gives a small shrug and rubs at the back of his neck. "I went into the Cornucopia…or to it, at least." I give him a look of disbelief. Why anyone would ever stick around there purposely is beyond me. "The sword was right in front of me, and it didn't seem like any of the tributes around me would be much of a threat, so I went for it." For a second I regret asking him to be in an alliance. He must be crazy.
"But that didn't hold you up for the whole day," Zeppina says dryly, her eyebrows practically disappearing into her hairline as the words leave her mouth. She thinks he's just as insane as I do.
"Well, no," he says, glancing down to the sword at his side. "I got in a fight with the boy from Two."
I'm about to ask him if he means Cato, but then I remember the face from the sky last night, the other boy that I never learned the name of. I almost wish it had been Cato, but something tells me that no matter how strong Barden is, he wouldn't be standing here with us right now if it had been.
"He came at me pretty strong. I mean like really hard, but I managed to kill him before he could get me."
He looks at me after he says the last part, as if he's expecting me to yell at him again. It makes me feel a little bad about my behavior before.
"Better him than you," I say, sending him a small smile. I mean it, too. It may be cold, but I'm glad that Barden managed to kill the boy. His death will make everything easier for us. Unless of course, the Careers now want to target Barden not only because he got a good score, but because he killed one of their own. Looking over him now, I can see that he has a large cut on his cheek, and his jacket has another slice in it, but it doesn't go all the way through. He also has a fat lip, but he seems otherwise unharmed.
"That doesn't explain why it you didn't find us until this morning," Zeppina says, still waiting for further explanation.
Barden throws his pack to the ground, and I eye it curiously. I hadn't even noticed he had one on him. He's just full of surprises. I don't ask about it yet though. I still want to know the answer to Zeppina's question.
"I booked it out of the Cornucopia as soon as I could, but there was no way that I would have caught up to you. If you hadn't noticed, you run pretty fast," he says with a quick glance over to me. "I had no idea where you guys went. My money was on the lake, but I couldn't risk crossing the valley while the Careers were still going at it. So I stayed on one of the mountains. Across the way, over there," he says, pointing at the mountain opposite of us. "I started looking for you when the sun went down and the Careers decided to take a rest, but it was slow moving considering I couldn't see much. Plus, I'm not much of a fan of the dark."
I raise my eyebrows at him, processing his words. "And you just stumbled upon us? Just like that?"
He shrugs. "Pretty much, yeah. You guys were right at the front of the lake. I didn't have to walk much."
Zeppina and I both nod at his words. He seems to be telling the truth, and the arena isn't exactly that big. It's a plausible story, but I still remind myself to be careful around him¾around both of them. This isn't the place for blind trust.
Another part of his story catches my interest. If he is being honest, and he really did spend the night in the mountains that means the arena is bigger than I thought. There might be something up there: food, somewhere to hide or make shelter. It's a possibility I have to explore. I don't want to spend any more time than I need to in this valley.
"So the mountains were safe to climb? You didn't run into any animals or muttations? Or the force field?"
He shakes his head in the negative, and Zeppina and I look at each other. "If the mountains are open territory, we should head up there," I say to my two allies. "The farther away we can get from the Cornucopia, the better. And since there's snow up there, we won't have to worry about water."
Zeppina looks up towards the sky before turning back to us. "We should go now, before it gets dark."
Barden and I both agree. We start our trek up the mountain after Barden picks up his pack, and I once again find myself staring at it. Did he get it in the Cornucopia? Does it have any food in it? Maybe I should have stuck around a little longer. Zeppina got a hat, and Barden got that sword and some type of pack. All I have is my knife. No, doing anything but run away as fast as I could would have been stupid. They both got attacked while I got out unscathed. Yes, leaving was the best choice. Still though, I want to know what he has.
"Hey, Barden. What's in your pack?"
He glances over at me. I seem to have caught him in a daydream. "What? Oh, this?" He asks looking over his shoulder at the bag strapped to his back. "It's a thermal sleeping bag."
Both Zeppina and I stop walking and stare intently at him. He turns and looks at us, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. I bet we look comical, staring at the boy with our mouths hanging open and disbelief filling our eyes. Maybe I should have stayed at the Cornucopia.
"What?" He questions, glancing between us with a confused look. "Did I say something wrong?"
Zeppina is practically spluttering. "Where did you get that? I didn't see them at the Cornucopia."
"I didn't get it there. I got it last night, from sponsors."
His tone is nonchalant. Both Zeppina and I continue to stare in astonishment. Sponsors? He got that as a sponsor gift on the first night? It's…it's unbelievable. The gift itself is surprising enough. Thermal sleeping bags are expensive. Very expensive. But the fact that he received such a generous gift on the first night…I'm starting to think my comparison to Finnick Odair wasn't too far off. The people in the Capitol must love Barden for him to get a gift like that this early in the Games. It must have been one hell of a fight with the boy from Two. The sponsors must really want him to survive. Not only is he charming and reasonably attractive, but he's now proven that his score wasn't a fluke by taking out one of the Careers. Relief once again fills me. Thank god he's on my side. It's almost impossible to win against people with this much support.
"Why are you both looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?" he says with a small frown.
Unbelievable! The kid's got sponsors crawling out the woodwork for him, and he doesn't even notice how popular he is. Or maybe he's just a really good actor, pretending to be naïve and goofy for the cameras. It makes me wonder if all of Panem is watching us right now. The Gamemakers will want to keep the Capitol favorites on screen as much as possible, and after the fight this morning, they're probably curious about our progress. If that's the case, Barden's doing a great job of selling himself to the people. A larger part of me thinks he's being genuine, though. Maybe it's because he reminds me of Peeta and someone else I don't want to name. Everything I've seen from him in the Capitol and the arena indicates that he's not faking for the sake of sponsors. But, it doesn't matter whether or not he has a clue about how popular he is so long as it doesn't come back to haunt me later.
I laugh lightly at his confused but now smiling expression and shake my head at him. Charming, indeed. "It's nothing, Barden. Just keep walking."
—
The climb up the mountain is difficult. The oxygen grows thinner and the air becomes colder as we steadily ascend. The quickly fading sun does little to quell our shivers. It's a good thing I ate so much in the Capitol; at least I put on some extra weight to protect me from the cold. If only I had gotten to eat like the Careers for my whole life, then I'd be able to handle this much better.
I can hear Zeppina and Barden trudging behind me, their heavy breathing lingering in the silent arena. It makes me nervous, how quiet everything is. Silence is never a good thing in the Games. It means there's no action, and no action means that the people in the Capitol are bored. And if the people get bored, it means that the Gamemakers are going to make something happen.
Please let them go after the Careers.
I'm not up for another fight. The numbness in my jaw has begun to wear off even in the chilly air. Pain radiates from where I'm sure there's a blotchy bruise forming on my face, but thankfully my mouth stopped bleeding a while ago. The inside feels raw though, and I'm sure that it will start again even from the most minor of prompting. Breathing has become quite the task as well. The thin air is forcing me to suck in as much as I can, but the deep breaths make my ribs throb uncomfortably. It's too bad the snow didn't do more to break my fall. I'll probably have to deal with the pain for the rest of my time in the arena.
The sound of a cannon booming temporarily pulls me out of my musings. We all look around the area, making sure that we are still alone, but there's nothing here. I can't see much in the valley from here either. Everything looks shrunken, like tiny bugs crawling around in a cage. It's impossible to tell whom the cannon was for, but them being the victim of the Careers is pretty safe bet.
That cannon makes fifteen tributes dead in the first two days. The terrible relief hits me again, but I push any thoughts of regret out of my mind. This is good for me. nine more people to go, and the first arena will be over. I've not only managed to survive the first night, but I've also survived my first fight in the arena. Hopefully sponsors will think that I can at least handle myself a little. I was taken by surprise and managed to get the upper hand. She had to flee because she was injured. That has to count for something. And now with Barden on my team¾him being an early favorite and all¾I'll look even better to the sponsors.
I let my mind drift to my mentors. I bet Haymitch is glad I asked for an alliance now. I let myself feel a brief pang of sadness for Katniss and Peeta and the tributes they lost. I don't dwell on that though, I'm still too focused on not dying. I wonder if they're all busy trying to get me sponsors¾and Karn too I guess, since he's still alive. Or was one of the cannons for him? It's too bad I'm not as popular as Barden. If I were, maybe Haymitch would send me some food, or a thermal sleeping bag, or something to stop my face from getting frostbite. I'd take anything, I'm not feeling too picky at the moment. At this point, I'd even take some supplies from District Twelve.
Thinking about my district makes me think of Mr. Fairbain and Mabel, and even my father for a brief moment. I don't spare him much thought. I doubt he really cares about what's going on. Mabel probably isn't watching right now, unless she's gotten out of school already. If she is in class, I'm sure that she's getting updates every once in a while. It's what we always do during the Games. Everyone else, even those who are working, are most likely watching. Maybe it's out of some type of morbid curiosity, but we all still follow the Games closely, even if we hate them. What happened in last year's Games only made them more interesting, and I'm sure that most people will be watching to see if anything changes again this year. It's easy to imagine the look on Mabel's face when the crazed girl from Five attacked me. She's always been particularly sensitive to any type of violence. She was a mess when Johanna Mason turned out to have quite the proclivity for killing. She probably cried for me. Mr. Fairbain was no doubt stoic throughout the whole fight. It's one of the things I admire most about him, his ability to stay in control no matter the circumstance. It's something I could definitely have used when I was yelling at Barden.
I cringe when I think back on the incident. I shouldn't have said anything, no matter what I think about the Games. Even the most minor thing could set the Gamemakers off. If they don't think I'll act like a good little tribute, if they think I'm trying to point out the flaws in their system, they'll get rid of me for sure. Avalanche, muttations, meteors; they'll find some way to kill me, and it won't be pretty. Saying something like that with so much tension in the districts— rumors or not—was a careless thing to do. There are cameras everywhere in the arena, and even with the storm, I have no doubt that one of them picked up on our conversation. Haymitch probably wants to kill me himself for doing something so reckless. I wonder what the people in my district and the others thought of my words. The more I think about it, the more I doubt that they even heard the conversation. The Gamemakers probably blocked it out. They wouldn't want me ruining the illusion that this is all good fun.
Not that it matters much. I might start starving to death before they have a chance to kill me. I'm used to functioning on less than sufficient resources, but that can only last so long. I chuckle darkly to myself. How ironic would that be? I manage to fight off starvation for sixteen years in District Twelve only to die from it in the Hunger Games. How many people has it happened to? How many have actually died from hunger in the Hunger Games? I doubt there's been many, and I'm determined not to add my name to that list. Of course, that involves me actually finding something to eat. The land we are walking on is still green. We haven't managed to reach the snowcaps of the mountain yet, but we're getting close. If we saw something, I'm sure we could make a snare and catch it, but there still aren't many signs of life. There doesn't appear to a water source, so few animals aren't likely to stick around the area. I really don't want to travel back into the valley, but unless we find something, or get some sponsor gifts, we might have to. The sun is beginning to go down too. We have to think of something fast.
Maybe Barden has an idea. I don't remember him being particularly good at survival skills, but he had to have eaten at some point since the bloodbath because based on the way he scarfed food down in the Training Center, he'd probably be starving by now without it. The only question is where did he get the food? I wait to ask the question though, saving it for when we reach our final destination. We need to get closer to the snow: closer to water. Maybe they'll even be some animals up there. The thought keeps me going even though I want nothing more than to collapse onto the ground and let my body rest. The pain in my head has increased to a steady pounding, probably from both the fight and lack of water, and my body feels like lead, like my blood has frozen into ice and is weighing me down. But I've dealt with worse pain before, so I push through. I spare a quick glance to my allies. They both seem tired as well. Zeppina is walking with a slight limp, and she's got the starting of a black eye. Aside from Barden's panting, he seems relatively okay. The cut on his face seems to be healing, which comes as a huge relief. Infection is usually deadly in the arena. Not everyone gets fancy sponsor gifts like Katniss and Peeta did last year. On second thought, I'm sure Barden's sponsors would send him whatever it he needs. I heave out a sigh and continue walking.
It takes us another two hours before we come to a stop about two hundred yards from the top of the mountain. Some of the land is still tinged with green, but there are patches of snow interspersed throughout the area, until you go up about another hundred feet. The snow blankets the peak of the mountain in layer upon layer of the white substance. We decide to make camp where we are. I scan the area quickly, making sure that it's safe. Aside from spotting the Careers from the hill, we haven't seen any tributes since this morning. The spot seems relatively peaceful. Nothing seems to stand out as dangerous, and we've definitely moved far enough away from the Cornucopia. There's snow for water, and it's not like the lack of wildlife is much different than the other areas we've passed. Like by the lake last night, I recognize some of smaller shrubs, and we've passed a couple small animals on our way up. We can make do with those if we have to.
"How's everyone holding up?" comes Barden's voice from behind me. He's sitting down on his sleeping bag, looking unconcerned as he tries to return his breathing to normal. He's the picture of serenity, and if I let my mind forget about the Games for a second, I'd be able to convince myself that this was just a normal day, that we're just three people relaxing on some mountain back in Twelve. But it's impossible to forget the Games. I'm scared, and cold, and my body aches, and Barden's nonchalance makes no sense to me.
I collapse gracelessly onto the ground beside him. "I'd be a lot better if I didn't feel like I'd been tackled repeatedly and punched in the face," I mutter dryly.
Barden chuckles and looks up towards the darkening sky as Zeppina takes a seat on his other side. She grumbles softly from her spot. "I hate the cold."
The bitterness in her voice makes me snort lightly. "You and probably everyone else in the arena." I've never particularly minded winter, I actually enjoy the feeling of the crisp air at times, but this is a little much, even for me. I'd be willing to bet that even the Careers aren't happy. Maybe some of them will freeze to death.
"It could be worse," Barden says. "It could be snowing again, or there could be an avalanche, or we could be in a volcano or something." Both Zeppina and I raise an eyebrow at him. "What? It's true. This isn't so bad."
Isn't so bad? No, it's not. We're just sitting here, hoping we don't die in the next few days. Not bad at all. If I didn't like Barden so much, I'd probably kill him for being so nonchalant about the whole thing. Then I could have his sleeping bag. I inwardly sigh. But, he's too charming for me to even pretend I don't like him.
"Though, it would be better if we had something to eat," Barden says. "I'm starting to get pretty hungry."
I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on top. "Yeah, well, they seem to have traded food for an abundance of snow. I don't think there's much to eat anywhere. There doesn't seem to be too many of those little rodent things around."
Barden frowns slightly. "Wait, have you guys not eaten at all? What did you do last night?"
"Briar found some plant," Zeppina says, her face scrunching up into a look of disgust as she recalls the memory. "It was terrible."
"At least I found something. Better than starving," I mumble.
Barden laughs lightly. "That's unfortunate. I've never been a fan of vegetables. Or anything green really."
I look over at the boy beside me, my lips tugging down and my brows furrowing. "What did you eat then?"
"Some soup. It came with the bag."
I roll my eyes and huff slightly. Of course, should have seen that one coming. I hope one of the cameras catches the scowl on my face. My stomach is uncomfortably empty, and I really wish that Haymitch would send me something to eat. I mean, I have to have some sponsors right? Effie and Haymitch said that the Capitol likes me, loves me even, but maybe they were wrong. Maybe all of my interest has been transferred somewhere else now that I'm nowhere near Cato. Maybe they're getting bored with me. That can't be right though, I'm sure that I have at least a few sponsors. Hopefully Haymitch is just saving it for a time I really need it. If that's the case, I can't be angry with him. It's only been a day, and if I can't make it this far without complaining, I don't deserve to win. I've gone longer than this without eating a real meal, though none of those situations also included me trying not get murdered by a group of survival driven teenagers.
"You guys were pretty good at setting up snares. Why didn't you try one of those?"
Both Zeppina and I turn to Barden at the question. I'm sure my face matches her incredulous expression. "And what supplies do you suggest we do that with?" Zeppina drawls out, making a sweeping gesture towards the empty space around us.
I let out a snort, and Barden sends us a sheepish grin. "Oh, right." He purses his lips, and his look becomes thoughtful. "Maybe we could ask for some."
I think my eyebrows have become permanently stuck in their raised position. Ask for some… like it's that easy? Does he have any idea how the Games work? Apparently he doesn't, because he rises from his seat and begins walking around.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking for a camera," he says as if it should be obvious.
Zeppina and I share a look before she turns back to Barden and points to somewhere to her right. "There's one there, by that plant."
Sure enough, I spot movement, the camera turning and zooming in and out to catch Barden's movements. Barden sends her a smile, and walks towards it. He bends down, placing his face directly in front the camera before speaking. "Um, I don't know if anyone's listening, but if you are… we'd be really grateful if we could get some wire?" He glances back at us and gives a small shrug of his shoulders. We both stare at him in astonishment.
He can't be serious right now. People are lucky to get any sponsor gifts at all. No one ever asks for them, it's completely insane.
But a few minutes later, my thoughts are cut off by the sound of beeping coming from somewhere above me. We all look up towards the sky, where a small silver parachute with the number nine emboldened hovers in the air. I blink rapidly, my brain trying to process the image. The package lands a few feet behind Barden, who turns back to the camera with a wide grin.
"Thanks. We really appreciate it."
I can't do anything but sit with my mouth hanging open. It's impossible! Things like this don't happen in the Games. You don't ask for gifts and then actually get them. I mean, maybe if you're Finnick Odair, but... I shake my head in disbelief. I don't know how Barden isn't going to win this thing. He's got the Capitol in the palm of his hand.
Barden makes his way over the parachute and pops it open. I can't help but smirk slightly when the coil of wire falls out onto the ground followed by a flint. Yes, Haymitch must be glad I asked for an alliance.
Barden looks far too pleased with himself as he gathers the wire in his hands. He turns to Zeppina and I, the grin practically splitting his face. "Now, which one of you wants to set the snare?"
—
A few hours later, the sky has completely turned to darkness. Barden and I sit around quietly in our makeshift camp, waiting for Zeppina to return from checking the snares. In the end, it had been her who made them while Barden and I discussed what we should do in the morning. We had contemplated the risk of making them in such open terrain, but we haven't seen or heard anyone in hours.
Both Barden and I jump slightly at the sound of someone approaching, but we relax quickly when we realize that it's Zeppina. I can't stop the small laugh that bubbles from my throat as I watch her walk to us. Her face is the picture of repulsion; wire in one hand and the other one fully extending from her body as she carries our prize. She stops a few feet in front of us, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she looks at the animal in her hand.
"This is all we got," she mutters with distaste.
It's a large rodent, the same one I had seen last night and earlier today. It's a little bigger than a rabbit, and it looks hideous. But then again, I've seen far worse animals back in District Twelve. I'm sure the meat will taste fine just the same. And even if it doesn't, bad tasting meat is better than no meat.
It's Barden's turn to laugh at the girl in front of us. "At least we got something. I'd eat anything at this point. Even you."
I roll my eyes at the boy. "I'd like to see you try," I say before turning to Zeppina. "Here, give it to me. I can skin it and cut it up." They both give me a surprised look. "What? I already told you that I worked in a butcher shop back home."
Zeppina's eyes narrow as she casts one last glance at the animal before she passes it over to me. I borrow Zeppina's knife¾ mine is contaminated with the blood of the girl from Five¾and set to work. The task brings me a sense of calm that I haven't felt since before entering the arena¾ since before being reaped. It's familiar, and I am confident with each cut I make. It's the first time since the gong as sounded that I've felt sure in what I'm doing, that I've felt connected to my life back home. This is my element. I hope the people back in the Capitol are watching, seeing that I'm good at this¾ that I can take care of myself.
I catch glimpses of my two allies as I work, both of them watching the process with curiosity. I chuckle when I catch the look on Barden and Zeppina's faces as I peel away the animal's skin and chuck it to side.
The corner of my mouth lifts into a small smirk. "Are you guys okay over there?"
They're both staring wide-eyed at the now bare rodent, and I can tell they're a little grossed out by all of this. It only makes me smirk more.
"How do you work with this stuff?" Barden asks, his forehead wrinkling as he watches me cut.
His question reminds me of the conversation I had with Mr. Fairbain the day before the Reaping. It makes my throat tighten slightly, and I push the memory from my mind. I shrug in response, keeping my focus on the animal in front of me. "It takes some getting used to, I guess. The smell of blood still bothers me, but you learn to deal. It's not so bad after awhile."
Zeppina's quiet voice speaks up from across from me. "How long have you been doing this?"
I pause momentarily before resuming my work. A multitude of answers fill my head. Since my mother and my sister died. Since my father didn't care enough to try and support us both. Since it became clear that I would starve to death if I didn't. I don't say any of those out loud.
"Since I was eleven."
She's watching me intently, no doubt analyzing me and trying to decipher what remains unsaid. I give nothing away, keeping my face as neutral as possible under her scrutiny. All of that is irrelevant now. The only thing that matters is surviving the Games.
We lapse back into silence while I continue butchering the meat. Cutting the rest of the animal is relatively easy. All the meat appears to be uncontaminated, and it pulls away from the bone easily. I smile slightly at my work. Most of it is usable, which means we'll be eating well tonight. I don't know what the animal is though, and I don't want to risk eating it raw. Eating meat that's meant to be cooked can cause serious problems, and in the arena, it would most likely kill us. It's definitely not how I plan on going.
"I need one of you to light a fire," I say, turning to my allies.
Zeppina's lips press into a firm line. "I don't know if that's a good idea. Someone will definitely see a fire at this point. We'd be drawing the Careers right to us."
I acknowledge that she's right, for the most part at least. A fire at night is reckless, and it usually ends with you getting killed by the bloodthirsty tributes that go out hunting. My mind conjures up images of Peeta's art: his painting of the small girl from last year who was stupid enough to light a fire on the first night. She made herself an easy target for the Careers. I shiver at the thought of meeting Mace or Cato in the arena because of such a careless mistake. But at this point, I think a small fire might be safe. The chances of the Careers scaling the entire mountain in the dark just to get a single tribute are slim, and if it attracts any other wayward tributes¾well, there are three of us, and we're all armed.
"I know it's a risk," I say, "but I don't think we have much of a choice. None of us know what this animal is, or what kind of diseases it could carry. We'd be risking just as much if we tried to eat it raw."
Both Zeppina and Barden look thoughtful at my words. I can tell that she's still not completely comfortable with the idea, but I know that I've won when she let's out a sigh.
"Fine, but the fire goes out as soon as soon as the meat is cooked." Her tone brokers no argument, not that Barden or I would try and give her one.
I give her a quick nod. "Of course."
Barden picks up the flint from the empty parachute canister and sets to making a fire. It's easy to make with the flint, and despite the snow, the grass is dry enough for the flame to burn steadily. Thankfully, the wind has calmed down from earlier as well. We cook the meat as quickly as we can, all eager to both eat and put the fire out. I don't think anyone is near us, but I'm not going to test my luck.
We each take a portion of the meat after stamping out the fire, deciding to store the leftovers in the container from the parachute in the event that we don't come across any animals for a while. I don't have anything to preserve it with like I would back home, but the cold temperature should help it last a little longer. We eat in silence, all of us too hungry to focus on anything other than the food. It reminds me a bit of eating a squirrel, and I savor the meat, eating it slowly and allowing the taste to fill my mouth.
Our dinner is interrupted by the sound of the anthem filling the arena. Once again, the Capitol crest fills the sky, the faces of The Fallen flashing for the remaining tributes to see. I feel confusion when the first face appears, but it quickly gives way to regret. It's the mad girl from Five, the one who attacked me this morning. Then comes the laughing rat boy from Ten, and a boy from Eleven that I don't recognize. The anthem fades, and I'm left to my thoughts.
Did I kill her? I'm positive that she was alive when the fight ended, there's no way she could have escaped otherwise. But I did stab her in the side, and I know that the wound was pretty deep. It's an area that doesn't bleed quickly, so it's not usually fatal unless it's left unattended. It would have taken her hours to bleed out and die, especially with the weather being as cold as it is. The thought of her suffering, of bleeding out slowly, makes my stomach churn. I did this. I killed her. At the very least, I weakened her enough to make her an easy target for someone else. It's my fault. She's dead because of me. The guilt is suffocating. It sits heavy in my chest and lingers no matter how hard I try to push it away.
I can't do this now. I can't let myself think about what I've done, because I know that to make it out of this arena, I'm going to have to do it again.
—
We are left in peace for two whole days. The Careers have managed to hack an opening into the Cornucopia, giving them a no doubt endless amount of valuable supplies. But other than that, nothing of importance has happened. The silence of the arena both confuses and worries me. I'm sure the Careers go hunting everyday, but we've only heard one cannon over the past few days. The Capitol must be getting restless. I'm in a constant state of anxiety, but if I don't let myself look down into the valley of Careers, it actually isn't so bad. The weather has been good, the sun continuing to shine brightly in the sky. I mean, it's still freezing, but it hasn't snowed since the second day, which is a mild improvement. The wind remains strong, burning away at our faces and making it feel colder than it is, but it's more tolerable than the storm. The good weather has allowed us to develop a sense of normalcy, or as much normalcy as we can get during the Games. We've made steady progress towards the forest, having decided it would be the safest place to take cover. Another few hours of walking, and we'll reach it.
We develop a system for carrying our supplies, alternating every time we move locations. We haven't had any more sponsors, but it's only the fourth day, and we aren't in need of much. The availability of weapons seems lower at the top of the mountain, but we've found two more knives and a baton. The snow has been sufficient for water, and the snares continue to be effective, though we don't catch anything other than the same large rodent. None of us complain. Food is food.
I'm thankful for not being alone. It saves me from being stuck with nothing but my own thoughts, which would no doubt be scrambled and guilt-laden. The arena has a way of tearing your mind apart; trapping you within your own thoughts and making you go crazy. I don't want to end up like Annie Cresta, the poor girl who went mad after watching her district partner get beheaded. Barden and Zeppina are a good distraction from the images and scenarios that my mind conjures up. I stick to my word regarding my allies, keeping an eye on both of them as I told Haymitch I would. But I find myself trusting them more and more as the hours go by, or trusting Barden at least. The desire to survive and the constant fear of other tributes have made me feel more reliant on them than I would like. Trust is a dangerous thing in the arena. I'm constantly reminded of Amelia, and I have to make a conscious effort to keep them at a distance.
The sun has barely risen over the horizon, and nothing can be heard but the howling wind. My allies lay asleep a few feet from me, huddled into Barden's sleeping bag. Being the person that he is, Barden has been kind enough to let both Zeppina and I use his thermal blanket. Sharing with her has been fine, but the situation with Barden was a completely different story. To say the first night was awkward would be an understatement. I've never been that close to a boy before, and something tells me that Barden had never been that close to a girl before either. He could barely look Zeppina or me in the eye when he suggested it. Under other circumstances, I would have refused such an offer, but the temperature is numbing at night and embarrassment is no reason to pass up on something that could help keep me alive. Barden's large figure makes it a bit of a tight fit, but it was easier once he decided that sleeping back to back would provide the most room for two people. I think he had really suggested it because he felt nervous. As awkward as it had been, the memory makes me smirk slightly. We're in the middle of the Games, where our lives could be over any second, and he finds time to be awkward because Zeppina and I are girls. I bet the Capitol got a kick out of the whole event. You're welcome, Haymitch.
The sound of screaming shakes me from my thoughts, and I jump to my feet, whipping my head around rapidly to find the source of the sound. Barden and Zeppina shoot up, both startled by the cries. It's a girl: I can tell by the piercing shrieks of pain she emits. I gulp, and an involuntary shiver runs up my spine. Whatever is happening to her, it's violent and excruciating, and it's all I can do not to cover my ears to drown out the noise. I know her screams will lodge themselves deep in my brain, and will be stuck in my head for days. Her voice echoes loudly in the air. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone in the arena could hear her.
All of us are standing with our weapons at the ready, prepared in case whatever is attacking the girl decides to come our way. My first instinct is to run as fast and as far as I can, but my body is seized with terror. I feel as if I've been turned to stone.
Barden swallows thickly, glancing from side to side. "Where is it coming from?"
It's difficult to tell in the wide expanse of the arena. The wind carries the sound, and nearly everything echoes. But it sounds like she's close to where we are¾ that whomever or whatever is attacking her is close. The only problem is I can't run until I know which direction to not go in.
"It's coming from there," Zeppina says quietly. She points west, dread evident in her brown eyes. "And it's definitely close by."
The grip on my knife tightens, and the hair on my neck stands on end when the screaming suddenly stops. We stand stock still for a minute, none of us daring to relax until we know what's going on. A cannon booms loudly. There's no way to tell for sure what signaled the cannon, but we all know it was for the screaming girl.
The cannon fire snaps me out of my trance, and I finally find my voice as the anxiety turns to adrenaline. I can feel my pulse beating harshly through the tips of my fingers and to my toes. "We need to go. Now."
We rush to gather everything, Barden taking the pack and slinging it over his shoulder. Our movements are hurried and tense, and I look over my shoulder constantly. I can't stand this. I need to know what's happening.
My eyes go wide, and I freeze in place when I hear the feint sound of a hiss from somewhere behind me. It's definitely not human. The noise is guttural and reverberates through the air, completely surrounding us. Both Barden and Zeppina are motionless, staring in the distance beyond me. Zeppina's body quivers slightly, and I know that it has nothing to do with the cold. I know that they can see whatever creature prowls behind me. The blood pounds in my ears, but I don't turn around.
The only thing I hear over the hissing is Zeppina's urgent whisper.
"Don't make any sudden movements."
I follow her advice even though my brain is screaming for me to run. I could get away. I'm faster than both Barden and Zeppina: the animal would get them first. I should be repulsed by my thoughts; but I'm not. I really don't want my allies to die, but I don't plan on dying anytime soon either. I need to survive. But the focus with which Zeppina is staring at the creature lets me know she knows what she is talking about, so I stay still.
I slowly turn my head to look over my shoulder. I regret it immediately as panic seizes my chest and spreads to every limb, anchoring me to the spot. The source of the noise¾ and no doubt the cause of the shrieking girl's death¾is less than two hundred yards behind me. Its hulking form is easy to distinguish even from this distance. It's a large cat-like creature¾a muttation. The Capitol has created a monster. It will no doubt live up to its name. Its large body slinks forward with sinuous grace. The creature's gaze is trained on us, sizing up its prey. My eyes are drawn to its brown fur, coated in the blood of its last victim. Bile rises in my throat, and I slowly turn my head back around to face my allies.
Barden's voice is panic-stricken as he whispers anxiously to us. "What is that?"
"I think… I think it's a mountain lion…or the muttation version of one," Zeppina replies quietly, her eyes still focused on the beast. My body is twitching with the urge to flee, but I hold still as she continues speaking. "It's gaging us, trying to decide if we're weak enough to attack."
"Won't standing still make it think we're vulnerable or trapped?" I hiss. I haven't had many encounters with live animals back in Twelve, but sitting and waiting for the mutt to get closer to us seems like a terrible idea.
Zeppina doesn't look at me when she answers, but her voice is steely. "That's what the eye contact is for. I'm trying to show it that we're aware of it."
I swallow numbly. Something tells me that the muttation isn't going to follow the same behavior as a real mountain lion. The hissing is getting closer, and I mentally prepare my taut body to move. I don't want to get mauled to death. I feel sick with the thought, especially when I remember that Mr. Fairbain and Mabel will have to watch. The faces of Barden and Zeppina flush in terror when a short, high-pitched roar ricochets through the air.
"Run!"
Instinct takes over, and I don't hesitate to follow her instructions. I take off in a sprint as adrenaline surges through me. I force my legs to move as quickly as possible. They feel like lead, and my lungs burn as I dart forward. My brain screams at me to run faster when the sound of the creature giving chase reaches my ears. I faintly hear Barden and Zeppina's steps behind me. There's a lot of distance between us. I don't slow my pace for them, my strained muscles following a single command: survive. Faster. The arena is a blur of whites and blues and greens as I flee across the mountain. If I can reach the forest, I might be able to lose the mutt. Another loud hiss rips through the arena, and terror fills me. I don't dare to look back. My heart beats furiously against my aching ribs, and I gasp for breath. My feet continue their restless motion on the ground.
"Run down the incline!" Zeppina screeches from somewhere behind me.
I follow the instruction blindly and change direction. I push through the exhaustion, never slowing my pace. I don't know how much stamina the animal has, but I'm sure it's more than me. My legs will give out soon enough, despite the adrenaline running through my limbs.
Keeping going. Less than half the hill to go. Thoughts of survival battle against the panic raging inside of me. The sick thought flies to my mind once again: I don't have to outrun the muttation, I only have to outrun Zeppina or Barden. No. I won't leave them for dead. I'm not that person. Unless I have to. I try not to think about what will happen if it catches them—if it catches me.
Even with my pulse pounding in my ears, the sounds behind me are heightened. The hiss creeps up quickly, completely surrounding me. I can't tell how far away it is, but it feels too close. I panic and lose my footing on the rocky surface. I'm sent flying through the air, landing painfully on my shoulder. I hear Barden yell my name, but it's useless. I have too much momentum. I tumble down the slope, colliding painfully with the hard surface over and over. My side slams down onto a rock. The pain is searing, almost too much to take on my already bruised ribs. I can't stop. The mountain is too steep. Something cuts deeply at my arm and I let out an agonized cry.
I crash onto flat ground without any warning. All the air is knocked from my lungs. Disoriented, I gasp, my body screaming in pain. My brain shouts a thousand different things at me. Get up! Run! Survive! I hear sound all around me: My name being called from the front, a roar from the back. The hiss is getting closer. I can hear the muttation's footsteps. I can see it bounding down the hill.
"Get up, Briar! You have to get up!" I'm too disoriented to recognize the voice, but I obey anyway.
I stagger to my feet. Stumbling, I break into a run again. I feel nauseous, exhaustion creeping into the edges of my vision. I have to keep going. I'm not going to die this way. There's a blur of green. The forest is right ahead of me. Just a little more. I need to get there. There's a burning pain in my lungs as I struggle to suck in air. The muttation is relentless, gaining on us every second. Barden and Zeppina are in front of me now. I'm the closest target; the most vulnerable prey. Dizziness fills my head. I force my legs to move faster. I can catch up to them. I have to.
I'm not going to. The mutt will not give up. It was made for this. There's no escaping it. One of us has to die.
I break through the tree line, darting around the brush. I'm almost even with Zeppina and Barden now. The creature shrieks behind me. I'm going to die. The muttation won't stop until it kills one of us. I need to make a stand. Weapons! All I have are two small knives. They won't be enough. I need something else.
A sword! It's lodged in the trunk of a tree a little distance away. I can get it. Only a couple more yards. I pant heavily as I race through the trees.
I can feel the mutt gaining on me. It's only a couple hundred feet back. I reach the tree, my chest burning painfully. I grip the hilt and yank. And yank. And yank. It's stuck. I'm overcome with terror. The only thing I hear is its hissing. I risk a glance over my shoulder. It will be upon me in seconds. I don't want to die! I grab the sword with both hands and pull. The animal roars. I'm going to die. I pivot on the spot just as the mutt lunges for me.
I slash my sword blindly through the air, meeting the beast's throat mid-jump. We both shriek in agony. Its claws slice through my arm, my sword mirroring the action on the creature's neck. I crumple to the ground and the mutt crashes to the floor beside me. I faintly hear it make a gurgling sound as blood seeps from where I've cut its throat open. I stagger to my feet. The pain from my wound is excruciating, and I can feel the warm blood drip down my arm. I grip the sword tightly in my uninjured hand, and with a shuddering breath, I gingerly make my way towards the bleeding beast. The mutt continues to gurgle and pant. It's still alive, but just barely. It will not put up a fight. I raise the sword up and plunge it deep into the creature's chest. It twitches, and then falls still. Dead. It's over, my mind tells me, chanting the word. Over. Over. Over.
I'm going to be sick. I rush over to the nearest tree and lean on it for support. The sword slips from my grip as I vomit. The pain and exhaustion is taking over me, crawling through every vein and seizing my body. I shiver uncontrollably even though I'm not cold, and my chest heaves with the effort I'm exerting to breathe. I'm alive. It's over. I lean my forehead against the trunk of the tree as I try to recover my breathing and regain my senses. The throbbing in my arm stops me from succumbing to exhaustion, both physical and emotional. With a shaky breath, I stand up straight and examine the wound. The claws of the monster have torn deeply into the skin, leaving gaping slash marks in its wake. The blood flows freely, soaking through the sleeve of my jacket. The stench of metal increases the nausea in my stomach, but I force it down. I've shown enough weakness. I can't be sick again, not in front of all of Panem.
I can't think about how close I was to dying—not yet at least. It's no use to dwell on it right now. The only thing that will do is create an inner panic so crippling, there'd be no way I could win. I can't afford that. I need to keep going.
I pull my arm close to my chest and apply pressure to stem the blood flow. I bite down hard on my lip to stifle the whimper bubbling up in my throat. I cast a glance towards the dead muttation, but look away quickly. I need to find Barden and Zeppina. They have to be around here somewhere. I was only a little behind them, and it's only been a few minutes since I killed the mutt. Or has it? Was I out of it longer? It doesn't matter; either way I can't stay here. I've made too much noise, and the forest is too close to the Careers. They will be coming soon. I stagger away from the mutt's body, moving deeper into the forest.
I make it about 100 hundred yards before I start to feel an uncomfortable cramping in my hand. I look down, and my brows furrow when I notice that I'm dragging the sword behind me. My grip around the hilt is firm to the point of being painful. I must be in shock or something, because I remember dropping the sword near the tree, but I don't remember picking it back up before I left. I briefly contemplate leaving it here, but ultimately decide against it. Something could attack me at any second, and while I'm generally useless with swords under normal circumstances, it seemed to be pretty effective against the mutt. Plus, they're better than my knives would be for keeping distance between my attacker and me. Loosening my grip slightly, I keep walking. I only make it about another hundred yards before I freeze again. The sound of footsteps reaches my ears, and despite my fatigued state, I'm prepared for another attack, clenching my hand tightly around the sword and raising it in the direction of the noise.
I almost collapse in relief when Barden and Zeppina come bounding through the trees. My arm drops down to my side, and I huff out a tired breath.
"Briar, you're okay," Barden says, shocked, as they rush over to me.
The expression on Zeppina's face is just as surprised. "What happened? Where's the mutt?" she asks, her head swiveling around frantically.
"Dead."
Her head snaps to face me. Their eyes go wide, and Zeppina sputters in disbelief, "Dead?"
"Dead."
They both scan my body, their gazes falling on the gaping slashes on my arm.
Barden's mouth tilts down, and Zeppina presses her lips into a thin line as she catalogues the extent of my injuries. She's apparently uninterested in the story because she doesn't ask for further explanation.
"We need to do something about that," she says, indicating to my wound. I nod stiffly, trying not to sway on the spot. The injury shouldn't be fatal, but I'm losing a lot of blood. "But we need to move first. Come on." Barden and I follow her as she begins leading us through the forest. She throws a glance back at me. "Keep pressure on it."
"What happened?" Barden asks, falling into step beside me. "You were right behind us, and then you were gone."
I shrug, but wince as pain shoots down my arm and into my torso. "I fought it," comes my clipped answer.
He gives me an exasperated look. "I put that together myself, thanks. My question is why. You're faster than both of us," he says with a nod in Zeppina's direction. "You could have outrun it."
I shake my head. "No, I couldn't have. Even if I hadn't fallen, it would have caught up to us eventually. One of us would have tired out."
"Or the muttation could have."
I sigh and look at him from the corner of my eye. "That was a genetically engineered animal from the Capitol. It was built to kill, and it wasn't going to stop until it had gotten one of us."
Barden's frown deepens. "But choosing to fight a mutt is crazy. You heard the girl's screams. That could have been you."
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I don't know what his point is. I'm perfectly aware that I could have died. "Fighting seemed like the better option. I wouldn't have been able to keep running for much longer. At least that way I had a chance. Better than being slowly mauled to death after I collapsed from exhaustion."
Barden's gaze is intent for a minute. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Zeppina speaks before he gets the chance. "We can stop here and clean out the wound."
We're by the stream that runs through the entire arena. We've walked closer to the side of the forest, back near the mountainside. It's a safe place to rest, if only for a little while. Gently, I sit on the ground next to the water. I need to clean and dress the wound in something, but I have no medicine. Pulling out my knife, I cut at the shredded material of my jacket and begin wiping away the blood from my arm. I bite my lip to stop from wincing. With the coat and the blood out of the way, I can see that the slashes are deep and jagged, but I don't think the claws cut the muscle. Thankfully it's not my dominant arm. I'd really be useless then. I'll have to be extremely wary of infection. When I'm finished cleaning the wound, I dip the cloth it into the icy water. My blood floats from the fabric, tainting the clear water with a wispy cloud of red. The biting air contrasts with the warm liquid trickling down my arm. Hopefully the cold temperature will help the injury to clot. Zeppina comes over and grabs the cloth from my hand, wrapping it around my arm. I flinch as the frigid material touches my skin, but it quickly gives way to relief as it almost instantly slows the throbbing.
Barden plops down on the ground next to me. "That'll hold?" he asks, nodding a head in the direction of my now dressed wound.
"For now," Zeppina says. "It won't cause you to bleed out, but you might have to worry about infection without any medicine or other bandages. We can't stay here too long."
Barden looks over at me with a smile. "You have to get something after that. I mean, you just killed a giant mountain lion. By yourself. I'd say that's pretty sponsor-worthy."
I lay back on the grass and tilt my head up towards the sky, closing my eyes. "Yeah well, tell that to my mentors. Haymitch is probably cursing me for stressing him out." I'm not holding out much hope though. Sure I've just killed a mutt, but I also just threw up in front of the whole country.
"How did you manage to kill it and only come out of it with a couple scratches anyway?" Zeppina asks, suspicion and curiosity lacing her tone.
I frown. A couple scratches? They nearly cost me my life¾could still cost me my life if they get infected. But she's right to question it. I would if our situations were reversed. How did I get away? My body quivers when I replay the mutt lunging towards me, the feeling of absolute fear I felt as I swung the sword. I don't know how I managed to survive, or how I managed to kill it. I'm just thankful that I did. Barden is right, too. The Capitol sent a killing machine after us¾ a muttation that had already claimed a victim just minutes earlier¾and it's now dead. It came straight at me, and I'm the one who made it out alive. People rarely make it out of confrontations with a mutt. Katniss and Peeta did last year, but that's because the wolves couldn't climb up the Cornucopia. They didn't have to go against them directly. But I did, and I'm alive. That has to be at least a little impressive.
I open my eyes and look towards the sky. My lips tug down. It's starting to get cloudy again. "There was a sword lodged in one of the trees," I say, answering Zeppina's question. "I got the mutt with it when it was lunging for me."
"I guess your fast reflexes paid off," Barden says with a bit of disbelief coloring his voice. "That thing was huge. You're lucky it didn't slice right through you." He cringes as soon as he utters the words.
I don't contradict him because the truth is that I was lucky. The Gamemakers had every intention of killing me. They probably even had my cannon prepared. The people in the Capitol were probably getting ready to pay what they owed to those who had bet on my death. I wonder if the people back in Twelve were tracking my movement, watching even when they thought I was about to be ripped apart by that monster. Yes, I'm lucky to be alive right now. My arm won't heal for days, and I suspect that I broke a rib or two when I fell down the hill. The pain I feel isn't going away anytime soon, but I still feel extremely fortunate. I can't help but smile a little. Despite the votes of confidence I had received, I know that no one aside from Mabel and Mr. Fairbain expected me to survive this long, and I'm proving them all wrong. I'm showing them that I'm determined to win this; that I'm not going to forfeit my life to the Capitol without a fight.