Johanna begins to rock in her seat. Gale cues to go to a clip, A panorama of a burning Arena.
It took a bit of time for the others to react. They were watching the herd of lunkhead reptiles by the light from the fires, just to see if it really went for us, and I started to doubt myself. I shouldn't have. The mass of the lunkheads went back and forth a bit, but when they reached a loop of the stream, they made a decisive turn straight for us. At least they weren't moving that fast. They were quicker than I would have thought, running with their sprawling reptile legs more than half-straightened and their big barrel rib cages going in and out like bellows, but still no faster than a healthy man or woman.
Napoleon tried shooting at a big lunkhead in the lead. It had bigger horns than the others, probably a bull. The arrow just lodged in the armor plates on its back. He had at least had the sense to gather his arrows and grab a pack of food. Rook was still just standing there, though he was probably debating whether to take out Napoleon, which certainly wouldn't have been the worst idea. But Erne, he did the single stupidest thing I had ever seen: He ran forward, and cast his harpoon at the leader, with the weapon still tied to a rope around his waist.
I suppose it's a little unkind to say he was stupid. He did hit the bull, just behind a shoulder blade, and I think the blade got through the armor. If the angle had been a little different, he might have gotten between the ribs, done some major damage and even brought the thing down. But he could have done the math on what would happen if it didn't work, which went something like, 600 pounds of lunkhead times 10 miles per hour plus 200 pounds of human equals totally mulched. Still, he might have gotten out alive if he had cut the rope. But he got jerked off his feet, and tangled up in his own rope, and then he went under the rest of the herd. I could just hear the cannon over the squawks of the lunkhead.
"Come on!" I shouted. I had a pack, with the dead snakes and bread from the people of Eleven whose Tribute I had pretty much murdered, my hatchet and knives and a hakapik. For a wonder, everyone decided that getting away from the herd was at least somewhat more urgent than killing each other or me. So they ran, and Rook overtook me. Behind us, the herd hit the pile, and even in their panic, they did what came naturally. I ventured a look over my shoulder and laughed at the sight of one lunkead pulling with its beak and another slashing with its tusks to tear open a big plastic carton. Grain spilled out, and they gobbled in unison without so much as a squawk at each other, and once again, I knew who the real survivors were. But the Gamemasters would be sure to kill them, too.
We reaches a good-sized stream, and Rook looked ready to jump in. "Don't!" I shouted. "Hypothermia will kill you before the fire gets near us." We kept running, slowing to a jog as we approached the lake. Behind us, the herd was catching up, but I stopped and waved them back. I gestured with the hakapik at what looked at a glance like a shallow hole full of leaf litter. On examination, it was full of snakes. Congregations just like it could be seen everywhere along the lake shore. They would be dormant, at least some of them, surviving off pooled body heat until the temperature was high enough to become active again. Of course, things were going to get a lot warmer very soon.
Napoleon took a good look, and smiled. "That's a problem for you," he said, "not for us. We received antivenom. We're immune."
"Ever survive a forest fire?" I countered. "Didn't think so. A problem for me is a problem for you. Besides, do you really think the Gamemasters would make it that easy? They could have released two different species. I was thinking, some of the dead ones I saw looked a little different. They could have given you a drug whose effects were temporary. They could have stocked the lake with a threat we don't know about."
"Very well, guide, where do you propose we go?"
"Up there," I said, pointing to a slight but rocky rise in the terrain. "If the lunks come up after us, it will be by ones and twos." They followed my advice, just in time. The herd went around us on either side. When one slow bull lumbered up, Rook ran it through with the point of his polearm, and I finished it off with the hakapik, driving the axe-like end of the head into a seam in the center of its forehead.
"Now what?" Ion said.
"We make ourselves as comfortable as we can," Napoleon said, "while the Gamemasters get their Final Eight interviews. Oh, and I want to see those snakes."
I laid them out beside a modest campfire we had made, and set about cleaning and skinning them. What I had said about two species had been all bluff on my part, but it turned out one of them did look different: The one I had bashed had the same alternating rusty red and light brown bands as the others, but the red bands were wider and tinged orange at the edges. I knew that it could mean nothing more than a difference in hair color on a human, and if it was a different species it might not be venomous. (Fortunately or otherwise, there wasn't enough left of the head to check for the fangs or glands.) Still, it had stood up to the cold better than the other snakes, and I wouldn't have floated my story if it wasn't the kind of thing the Gamemasters might try, so for the moment, I held Napoleon's trust.
Erne's face played in the sky. I would find out later that his death was another of the most replayed moments of the Games. They played up the angle that he sacrificed himself to protect me. If that was what he had in mind, then he was stupider than he looked. I got myself out just fine, and if he had really wanted to help, he should have followed me instead of leaving me with the three people I trusted least. But then, that whole angle could have been the Capitol's way of sending a message about what a heroic stand really gets you.
One of the things I had taken care to save was a package of salt. I cut the snake flesh into long, thin strips and poured the salt on. They smoked nicely over the fire, making jerky we could save for later. "Ten will be making his way down to us," Napoleon said. "We can expect him to attack shortly."
"No," I said. "I already told you you the greatest threat is. Sky is still alive, despite the Gamemasters' best efforts, and we can only imagine what they will try next. But he's not going to be okay. He could have burns or a concussion. He could be off-balance for a while. Most importantly, even if he is as good as ever, he won't have the forest on his side anymore. Any snares he set will be burned up or exposed, edible plants will be burned up, along with any cover, and the animals will be dead or scared away. For the time being, he will be up around the rocky peaks where the fire had nothing to burn, and probably holed up in a cave for warmth. We can take him, if we get to him fast, and we can. By morning, the fires in the valley will be burning themselves out. We can get there ahead of the big, slow burn, and follow the valley up to where he is."
As I said it, I thought of Sky, and I knew I deserved to die for this. But I also thought of Row, Jan and Jen, the people he came here to help, and I knew if Sky lived, they would not. I tried to convince myself I was doing it for them.
An after note: This chapter is based on an event referenced in the first book. The lunkheads are an original creation I have had fun with; my main inspiration was the pareiasaurs, among my favorite prehistoric creatures, and I added some dinosaurian and crocodilian elements. While I'm at it, I'll mention that in place of an installment of this story, I posted a Johanna one-shot called "Progress", which came out as pretty much pure cuteness.