As the next few days pass, I settle into the routine. I awaken each morning at seven forty-five. Breakfast is at eight, and with Valet now in the Aphrodite cabin we never arrive more than five minutes late, a fact about which Chiron and the other campers seem quite pleased. I roam around camp until lunch, trying out different activities and occasionally giving Amaranth further advice on the archery range. After lunch, more roaming. After dinner, a camp wide activity, and then the campfire.
On the nineteenth of July, three days after returning to the Hermes cabin, I come to the pavilion for lunch, exhausted from a particularly rigorous morning.
Prim greets me with her usual enthusiasm. "How was your morning?" she asks, twirling her fork between her fingers.
"Tiring," I admit.
She inspects my dirty clothes and grimy skin. "At the forges?" she guesses, smiling slightly.
I roll my eyes. "Yeah. Not nearly my strongest suit, and Alef and Albier were giving me a hard time. So maybe I mixed up the tongs, but what did they expect? It was my first time." I shake my head, then glance over at Prim. "What have you been doing?"
"I've been helping in the infirmary," she answers. "There's a satyr, Birch." She laughs, shaking her head, her long braid tickling my arm. "He was chasing a dryad, one that another satyr already had his eyes on. He saw him, and there was a little scuffle, but she couldn't have been less interested in either of them. And when Chiron arrived to break up the fight, the only injury was a splinter in Birch's hoof - inflicted, I believe, by the dryad."
I have never spoken to him, but I know Birch. He is one of the younger satyrs, no older than twenty-four or twenty-five, the equivalent of a human preteen. I can imagine all too well the scene that Prim describes. "Satyrs," I mutter, shaking my head in feigned disdain. "And you, Prim the healer, laughing about this all?"
Prim grins. "It's not the injury I'm laughing about. It's just that he's been in the infirmary all morning, quite dramatizing a relatively small splinter, doing and saying whatever he can to try to demonize the other satyr. Though in reality, it was the nymph."
"He's been in the infirmary all morning because of a splinter?" I repeat. In my fifteen years I have received countless splinters from padding barefoot on the uneven floorboards in our old house in the Seam. It usually took me all of thirty seconds to pull it out, save the occasions when the wooden shard was embedded deep enough to warrant tweezers.
My sister nods. "It's different for satyrs. Their hooves are tough, and when something penetrates them, it's like breaking a bone, though it takes less time to recover. It will be several days before he can walk again." She looks up at me. "You should come help us for a bit, or at least come for a visit. We haven't many injuries today, apart from Birch, and the Apollo kids are good company."
Prim looks up at me, her blue eyes bright and hopeful. I look into her face and know that I will not be able to refuse. "Sure," I grant. "I'll come."
A girl with brown hair and gray eyes meets us at the door. Delos. She leads us inside, or at least she leads me. Prim walks into the building appearing to feel right at home.
I clear my throat. "So...I hear there's a satyr," I say awkwardly, cringing inwardly.
Delos smirks. "Yeah. You'd think they'd learn not to mess with the dryads after a few thousand years."
"He's over here," Prim says, walking over to a white curtain sectioning off a bed.
She ducks under the curtain, and I slip inside after her. On a bed is a boy with medium brown skin and curly dark hair on both his head and his legs. At the end of each of his legs is a cloven hoof, one of which is mounted on a small pedestal at the foot of his bed, wrapped in gauze. Apart from Prim and Delos, who now comes up at my side, there are no healers about.
Birch opens a bleary eye when we enter. "Prim," he mutters through a yawn.
"How are you feeling?" My sister inspects the bottom of his hoof.
The satyr hisses as she adjusts the pedestal. "It hurts! That blasted Tern, I got her first!" His face contorts into a pained expression. He opens one eye, hope fluttering briefly onto his features when he sees Prim's face, which is carefully schooled into an expression of concern.
"Looks like she got you first," I mutter, unable to hold back a smirk.
Birch just glares at me. Delos snorts, and ducks back under the curtain. I follow her out, afraid that if I look at the boy on the bed for any longer I will remember other patients, some even younger than Birch, sporting injuries far worse than his, and lying not on a freshly made bed but on a hastily cleared kitchen table. And above them, Mother, spreading a herbal remedy on their wounds to prevent infection, her blonde hair pulled back in a bun, her blue eyes anxiously scanning their wounds.
I do not want to think of Mother, nor of home. It is too painful, remembering what we have left behind, what we may never see again. I cannot have both, this home and Mother, or Gale. I belong here, that I know. But Mother and Gale, they do not. I must choose between them, between my home and my family, between my father and my mother. But I cannot.
Delos frowns at me. "Katniss, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I say. "Just...homesick. My mother was a healer. This is dredging up old memories."
"Ah." Delos' lips twist into a wry smile. "My thanks to your mother. Prim is quite a healer herself. And quite eager, I might add. She's been helping here nearly every day since the two of you first arrived."
"She hopes it's Apollo." I don't think about it, the words just slip out. And though I hadn't realized it before, now I realize it is true: though she never stated it, I can tell what she wishes. I can see her ease after she has been helping in the infirmary.
Delos only smiles again. She is silent for a while, and when she speaks again the conversation takes a wholly different turn. "Capture the Flag is tonight," she says, glancing sidelong at me. "They decided on the final teams this morning. Hermes is with us. The list is up there." She points to the bulletin board next to the door, on which several loose papers are pinned.
Swinging under a green thumbtack is a long curl of paper listing campers and cabins in two adjacent columns. Printed in blue in the top left corner is the name 'Athena', and under it the names of her nine children. At the top of the right column is 'Ares', followed by the names of his thirteen. Following each team leader are the other cabins, listed in alphabetical order. Directly under Athena is Apollo, and farther down the list, Hermes.
"Our team looks decent," Delos says. "Athena has the best strategists in the camp, and Apollo's archers are surpassed only by Artemis's Hunters. Demeter...there are only five of them, and they're suited more to the garden than to the battlefield. Hades only has one, but she's an asset. A couple of other smaller cabins - Hebe, Hypnos, Tyche - and then Hermes, the biggest cabin."
I inspect the list. "They have Ares. He's the god of war. Wouldn't that give them a significant advantage?"
Delos grins. "They're fighters, not thinkers. We have Athena. Brawn doesn't always beat brains."
"And Zeus, and Poseidon..."
"And Hephaestus, and Nike, and the rest," Delos agrees. "It'll be close. This is your first time, isn't it? Good luck."
Several hours later, the entire camp is assembled by the creek. I hold my bow, my quiver stocked to the brim with arrows from the armory, and a knife hangs at my waist. I wear an orange shirt and trousers, and a few pieces of light armor. Delos encouraged me to suit up, but my advantages are in my speed and shooting, both of which will be hindered by excessive armor. But looking around at my fellow campers, I begin to feel rather underdressed. Even Prim is wearing far more than me.
"Blue team, to arms!" someone shouts as the red team begins to trickle into the woods for their own brief assembly.
The campers turn their attention to a tall girl with honey blonde hair and gray eyes. She holds a sword, and under her free arm is a helmet with a blue plume. I remember her: Shay, the head counselor of the Athena cabin. Shay outlines our strategy. Our base will be at a small rock outcropping in the woods. Among those assigned to guard the flag are Evan, Amaranth, and Hebe's son Addel, the little seven-year-old from District Twelve.
Shay announces the scout team next. It is a small group of six campers. Quire is among them. The only other who catches my eye is Psyche, a girl of about fourteen. She is clad in black armor, and even her blade is the color of midnight. When Shay dismisses them, she slips into the shadows of the woods.
Next Shay forms the defensive force. I am assigned to patrol the eastern section of the creek, the boundary line. Also assigned to the eastern creek is Sye, a blond, slightly chubby girl of maybe twelve years. A daughter of Tyche, I believe, or maybe Hebe. As I leave the group and walk into the woods, she drifts over to my side.
"You're Katniss, right?" she says. "The new kid?" I nod, and she frowns. "You've been here a week, haven't you? But I don't recall seeing you at the last Capture the Flag, and I'm sure I would have noticed."
I nod again. "I was in the infirmary."
"Oh, right!" she says. "The boars. I'd nearly forgotten. Everyone was talking about it."
I just grunt this time. I had known the entire camp had heard about the incident within the hour, but I don't like thinking about it. I don't like it when people talk about me behind my back. We are nearing the creek; I can hear it in the distance, water rumbling softly through rocks. I am reminded of the first time I heard this creek, many miles upstream, with Prim and Heamon. It is hard to believe that was only two weeks ago.
"So we're on patrol," Sye says cheerfully. "You're new, so I'll explain. Basically, we stand there and make sure that none of the reds slip by. It's very simple."
She keeps trying to talk to me as we walk through the woods, but I ignore her, instead examining the trees. Most of them are tall and sturdy. I don't know how Sye will approach the position, and it really isn't my concern. When we reach the eastern portion of the creek, I swing onto a low branch of a tree and swiftly climb to a decent height, not so low that I will be easily sighted from the ground, but low enough to have any passersby easily in range.
"What are you planning to do up there?" Sye's voice rings out. "Arrows work fine against monsters, but they're hardly formidable on border patrol."
My arrows are rubber-tipped, but they will definitely hurt on impact. "Well, maybe I won't just be using my bow," I say, irritated. "I have a knife, too, you know."
"You never train with it, I've seen you," Sye says. "But don't worry. I have a sword, I'll be able to keep them out. It's really more of a job for one."
Anger rises in me, and I resolve to show this daughter of Tyche that I am more than capable of keeping intruders out, whether by bow or by knife. Chiron's conch blows in the distance, and I climb to a lower branch and position myself on its edge, ready either to fire or jump to the ground.
For a long time nothing happens. Minutes bleed together, and I do not dare to relax my muscles. After ages, I hear footsteps approaching. I hear Sye crunching around on the leaves somewhere to my left, and curse under my breath. She'll give us both away. Silently, I draw an arrow and fit it to my bow. I squint, and make out a red plume through the foliage, coming ever closer. Soon I can make out the intruder: Alef, the head of the Hephaestus cabin, who had been coaching me in the forge this very morning. He had given me a hard time over a few beginners' mistakes, and I relish the opportunity for revenge.
I loose my arrow, which hits him square in the side of the head. He shouts in pain, his hand flying up to rub at his temple. Had my arrow not had a tip of rubber, he would be dead. Suddenly it feels like I am in the Hunger Games, about to square off with a sword-wielding tribute twice my size, with a knife and a handful of only moderately effective arrows. Adrenaline pumps through me, and before I know it I leap from the branch.
I land on the ground hardly a meter from Alef. He turns around, but his armor slows him. I dance behind him easily, and sever the strap of his armor with my knife. His breastplate slides to the side, and finally he turns to face me. Only then does the stupidity of my move hit me. I am small, and he is nearly a foot taller than me, and probably a good fifty, even one hundred pounds heavier. I have never truly fought close-range before, only in a few mandatory sparring matches. There is a reason I have only ever stuck to far distance: I have no skill in hand-to-hand combat.
I swing my knife at Alef, but he parries easily. He strikes, and I manage to just barely bring up my knife in time, but the force of the blow sends me stumbling backwards. He swings again, and I scramble aside, but still his sword cuts deep into the flesh of my arm. I bite my lip hard to keep from crying out, and the taste of blood fills my mouth. My knife slips from my fingers.
Alef approaches me, and instinctively I reach for an arrow from my quiver. I notch it and release the string, and it hits his temple hard. It is the second blow his temple has taken, and from only feet away this time. Alef drops his sword and drops to his knees, his face contorting in pain as he grasps his head. I get to my feet and scramble backwards, but he does not get to his feet, but slumps against the tree. His face goes pale, and his eyes are dilated. I do not need to examine him to know that he has a concussion.
My arm throbs terribly. Sye emerges from the trees. Her eyes widen when she sees Alef.
"How'd you do that?" she asks. "I've been hit by rubber arrows before, though at a distance. They hurt, but they don't tend to do that much damage. He's not going to be going anywhere. Let's leave him there until we win." Judging from the grin she sends his way, her last words are entirely for his benefit.
I stare at her. "He has a concussion, Sye. We need to get him to the infirmary."
Sye snorts. "The infirmary! No one's at the infirmary. All the Apollo kids are out here with the rest of us."
"Someone has to be there," I insist. "I've seen concussions before. They're nothing to dismiss lightly."
"He's not going to die," Sye says. "Leave him, Katniss. There's always plenty of ambrosia to go around after Capture the Flag."
It is not Sye's words as much as her tone that makes me straighten to my full height, my eyes flashing dangerously. I might not be a very intimidating sight, but Sye has now truly irked me. I am about to spit out some scathing remark when cheers erupt in the distance, and Chiron's conch blows a second time.
Suddenly the pain in my arm doubles, and I hunch over with a small cry. Sye glances over at me, then helps Alef to his feet. His eyes have cleared somewhat, but he still looks dazed. I stumble along after them as they weave through the trees.
The camp converges at the center of the trees. Prim and some of the Apollo kids go around, handing out ambrosia and nectar. Someone presses a square of ambrosia into my palm. I eat it, and watch in awe as my skin knits back together. Alef is recovering as well, and he shoots me a dirty look.
Adevin is wading across the creek, a red flag in his hands. The other blue-plumed campers swarm around him, cheering. We've won. Adevin looks slightly uncomfortable with all the attention, but he is grinning all the same. Chiron stands beside him, ankle-deep in the creek.
"The blue team wins!" he announces.
A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to update. My account keeps shutting me out.
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