GALE AND KATNISS
PART 10
Wow, we're into the double digits, now. How exciting. =). Well, it's almost over, and reviews are important. I like to hear opinions. I'm thinking maybe three more chapters? It all depends on how I divide what I have written.
Wow, are my disclaimers getting awful as the story gets longer. The reservoir is definitely drying up. But, the point is that you need to remember that I'm not a copyright infringer. That's why it's on a fanfiction website in the first place.
Yippee!
We both know now that the games are officially coming to a close. Whether we're ready or not, we'll have to face him tomorrow, and that last battle will decide both of our fates. There's nothing we can do but prepare ourselves as best we can.
Eat. Sleep. Rest.
As I lie on the beach with my head on Gale's chest, I realize that tonight is very likely the last night of my existence. I know what choice I've made, and it's time that my decision comes to fruition. If it comes down to the matter of life or death for Gale, I'm more than prepared to risk my life for him; and I will, whether he likes it or not. These are his games; I'd decided that long ago.
I tilt my chin, my eyes drinking in his face. If I'm going to die tomorrow, I'm going to absorb as much of him as I possibly can. My last peaceful memory will be of him, and that's how I've always wanted it to be. How I'd known it would end.
I state the words loudly, clearly, and simply.
"I love you, Gale."
I know I've uttered them before, but never have I said it first. Never have I said them with such complete faith.
"I love you, Catnip," he says, holding my face between his hands and lifting my mouth to his, for one last passionate kiss…
I awake to the feeling of the lake's soft water lapping up against my toes, and I enjoy the waves of bliss that wash over me as I feel the contours of Gale's body above mine.
The pleasure is short lived, as are most things in the arena. Reluctantly, I force myself to focus on the reality that plagues me. I sit up, shaking the cream sand out of my hair and organizing my weapons.
Cato had managed to acquire an impressive arsenal of weaponry, Gale and I armed ourselves well with what we managed to loot from his camp.
I loop a belt of knives around my waist, string my bow, clipping a long, almost elegant sword at my hip. No doubt Thresh will be armed
Gale touches me lightly from behind, I hadn't realized he had awoken, or heard him approach. He moves so silently…
He's holding my quiver, I turn to face him and he fastens it around my shoulder.
"This is it," he murmurs.
"The last fight," I conclude. I don't allow myself to consider the possibilities we could've had back in 12, or the family we might've had. I need to direct all of my energies toward Gale's survival now, in these last moments of my life that is what really matters.
We walk together, the sunrise painting the sky into a beautiful panoramic vision of vibrant hues behind us. The golden fields where Thresh has hidden sway in a slight breeze, the landscape is almost beautiful.
I won't be appreciating it for long.
Gale pauses at the place where the sandy ground begins to grow into the long, yellow grasses of the prairie. Gazing into his silver eyes, I know there's something on his mind.
He reaches over, brushing my bangs out of my eyes with those strong, deft fingers that I've come to know so well. "You know I'm ready to die for you, right Katniss?"
I frown. "We'll see," I mutter, knowing that my plans are completely at odds with his, but that I'll only hurt his chances arguing now. We're both far too stubborn.
Somehow, something inside of me knows that my fate will be decided as I take this next step…
I look into Gale's eyes, and I'm shocked at what I find. His striking grey eyes are wet with what I suspect are tears, and I realize that he's never really cried before. Ever.
I reach down and grip his hand firmly in mine, and we continue the journey toward inevitable destiny together, hand in hand.
We've trekked across the golden field for about an hour now, the sun is rising high behind our backs. Slightly to the left is a lone tree, short and twisted from the false weather. It's growing atop a granite boulder, its roots stretching down around the rock, struggling to find the soil at its feet.
Judging by the haphazardly concealed remains of a fire pit and the markings on the soft earth beneath our feet, I know this is where Thresh has been living.
Keeping my grip on Gale's hand, I turn so that my back is pressed against his, and we can see from either direction. The possibility that we've just walked into an ambush is extraordinarily high. Slowly, I draw a knife from my belt, and I feel the muscles shift in Gale's back as he pulls Cato's sword from it's sheath.
We rotate slowly, our eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of our adversary. I hate this terrain, it's nothing like the woods that I'm accustomed to. It's to open, and I feel exposed on the great, flat mesa. We're out of our element.
I shake with nerves, trying to steady my sweat-slick knife hand.
A branch breaks. My ears perk toward the sound, and I'm painfully aware that these may well be the last seconds of my life. My breathing accelerates, and I crouch low, readying myself to either attack or defend.
And then there's Thresh, his huge arm rippling with muscle as he grasps his spear tight. He's left handed, I realize with a pang of remorse. Even that little detail is enough to forcefully remind me of the fact that this boy is a human being.
I survey him further, he appears to be more well fed than when he entered the arena weeks ago. I wonder if district 11 truly is that atrocious, that even in the district that's largely responsible for agricultural production the citizens starve.
He approaches, I can see his eyes now. They're a strange golden color, with unexpected flecks of green. Those eyes are caring, they harbor true emotion behind the hard outside layer that I'm sure encases us all. Whatever we may be on the inside, we're still all killers. Murderers.
I regret having to kill him, but I know that my choice is between him and my hunting partner, my best friend…and my lover. And I know that I made that decision a long time ago.
He advances on us, I squeeze Gale's hand for reassurance and he squeezes back as we stride confidently toward Thresh, weapons poised and ready.
Thresh sees our advance, and breaks into a run, clutching the wooden shaft of his spear above his head, aiming to lodge it into my skull. I'm frozen, nothing better than a shocked animal as this giant of a boy sprints toward me, his footsteps resounding like thunderclaps on the prairie soil.
But then, at the last second, Gale turns in place, yanking me aside. Thresh sails past me, skidding to a stop a few feet behind us. Somehow, there's a huge, deep gash in his left bicep, and his blood streams freely from the open wound. Gale must have sliced into him as he ran past…
Now we circle each other, Thresh completing an outer circle, Gale and I, hands entwined, rotating slowly in the center. He looks for an opening, a place where our defenses are down. Even from this distance, I can see the sweat beading on his forehead.
Again, he charges, this time aiming for Gale. We sidestep, and somehow I lose my grip on Gale's hand. Now, he's sparring with Thresh, who's spear is broken in two. He uses one half in each hand, fighting as if they're daggers. Gale has the upper hand, and Thresh knows it.
I can see the thought process playing through his mind, the way he evaluates our relationship through our actions. And he gambles, guessing on what I know is true.
He disengages himself from Gale momentarily, sending the arrow end of his spear flying toward me. He guessed correctly.
As if on cue, Gale turns away from him and leaps toward me, although I know that there's nothing he can do to stop the spear entering my flesh.
And it does. It lodges into my shoulder, and it hurts, although not as badly as the cut on my leg had. I'm dizzy from the pain, but somehow I retain my focus.
Gathering my willpower, I pull the splintery wood from my body, trying to ignore the sickening squelch that accompanies the motion. I toss the spear to the ground, and approach Thresh.
Gale recovers from the shock that is evident in his wide, pale eyes, and grabs Thresh's arms, pinning them behind his back. I hold my knife loosely, gingerly.
Seeing those strange, golden eyes, so filled with life and terror and sorrow and fear, it makes me reminisce on the awful, repulsive things that I've done to get to this point. Thresh – Thresh had a family…friends. I realize that I never even knew him as a person…only an opponent. And suddenly, the full force of my hate for the capitol comes crashing down on me.
They've made me into someone I never wanted to be, they've turned me into a monster. They've forced my hand, several times, causing me to kill other humans. I'm a disgusting excuse for a person. I'm not sure if the word 'person' can even accurately define me anymore.
"I am so sorry," I whisper, and even though my words are hardly audible, I know that thousands of speakers have picked up on them and are projecting them throughout all of Panem. "I didn't want you to die."
Hot, salty tears run down my nose, staining the large boy's shirt as I point the knife at his throat. His rare golden-green eyes stare deep into mine, searching for some sort of mercy, for a flaw in my resolve.
"I don't want you to die. But the capitol made you my enemy." I'm sobbing now, the tears fall in earnest, blurring my vision. I rack my mind for some way I could make Thresh's death meaningful, and not just yet another statistic of the games. I want everyone in Panem to know that I am above the influences of the capitol. That I refuse to become a brutal monster in order to entertain them.
Suddenly I know.
I sing. I haven't sung since my father died. Without him in the house, it was as though there was no longer any reason for music in my life. It wasn't the same without him.
As I gain confidence, the tears halt. I hear Gale's voice harmonizing with mine, as he joins me in singing the funeral song from 12. It's a slow, melancholy melody, and the words are interchangeable.
When we finish, the birds flying across the sky and perched in the tree beside us carry on with the tune.
My hand no longer trembles, and I press the silver blade of the knife into Thresh's throat, pressing into his flesh. I make it fast, cutting his throat with a quick incision that I hope won't be more painful than necessary. Then there's more blood, darkening both of our jackets and streaking my fingers with gory colors.
We stand slowly, letting Thresh slide off of our laps and onto the ground. Gale presses the three middle fingers of his right hands against his lips, the way our district did for us when we were sent into the games. I quickly follow suit, paying a last respect to the dying boy at my feet.
"This is some god-awful entertainment, if you ask me," he says.
The cannon fires, it's loud and cruel and harsh, disrupting the peaceful moment.
I collapse, unable to stem the violent sobs and salty tears that make the extent of my grief evident. I've become devoid of any emotion or feeling, other than a searing pain that eats at me from the inside out.
I'm vaguely aware that Gale has picked me up from the hard, dry ground where I lay, and is carrying me back across the mesa, back to the crystal lake. We move slowly, the sky darkening above our heads. Trumpets blare, loud and ostentatious. They don't want us to miss this moment. Thresh's face highlights the sky over our heads, his photographically illustrated image self-assured and peaceful.
As if I needed to be reminded of my actions.