Day 11- The Games (Day 4)

The next morning I eat a small breakfast of bread and berries. I don't know when I'll next get food, so I'd better make what I've got last. I make it to the river with no sign of anyone and fill up my water bottle. I am very aware that my footprints leave a trail, and as I head back into the forest I stick close to the river, looking for sets of tracks that could belong to Tamla or Fern.

With my staff at hand and a knife at my belt I feel much more prepared, though still aware that I'm unlikely to encounter a career alone and the quiet of the snow makes me vulnerable to being snuck up on. Eventually something catches my eye. It's a set of footprints- but I've spotted them from further away than I would have done had they not been lit up by bloodstains.

I stop next to a print. The injured tribute's feet are smaller than mine by a noticeable amount, so I doubt it's Varro, Jeremiah, Grove or Perrin. But they're probably too big to belong to Amelia, Coulette or Cinnamon. So, not that I can be certain, that leaves the three female careers or Tamla or Fern. I swallow down the lump in my throat. I can't hide from the fact it's much more likely to be one of my friends than one of the careers, and hurry in the direction of the footprints. The amount of blood drops, which must be a good sign, but the footsteps are a bit all over the place, clearly the injured person is struggling to walk. I should catch them soon. Suddenly a cannon fires, and my heart almost stops. No…please don't let it be Tamla or Fern…please. I decide to keep following the footprints in case the incidents are unrelated, and ten minutes later realise I have made the right decision.

Collapsed against a tree, badly injured but alive, is Tamla.

"Tamla!" I call out, forgetting that my voice could draw attention.

"Rory?!" she says, sounding weak, but also surprised to see me.

"Are you hurt?" I asked stupidly, hurrying to her side, "What happened?"

"Cleo," she groans. "Cut me. On the side," she shifts to show me her bloodstained left flank, but doesn't take her hand off the wound.

"How'd you get away?" I ask her, surprised.

Tamla says weakly. "I guess that cannon was her. I got away because some mutt attacked her. Some sort of white bear. I guess she injured it too, otherwise it would have killed her straight away, or come after me."

"How are you doing?" I ask seriously.

"Not great," she says. "I don't think I can stand. I'm worried if I move too much it'll start bleeding again."

I shed my backpack and remove my coat and pull some fabric out of my shirt.

"Where'd you get all this stuff?" she asks.

"The feast at the town," I explain. "Jade, Perrin and Shayla came and stole the weapons and burnt the rest but I hid and saved some of it from the fire, and followed their footprints for the knives. The staff was from a sponsor."

"That was clever of you," she says, before adding, after a very ill-sounding cough, "I knew you'd get sponsors. I doubt anyone will send me medicine."

"Don't be silly, of course they will," I reassure. "Now take this," I says as I press the cloth into her hands. "Let me see that cut."

She gingerly removes her hand. I can't help but wince. It's fairly bad, long and deep, but not so deep as to threaten internal organs, and at least it still looks clean.

"Bad huh?" she says.

"You'll live," I reply, though I am seriously worried about it. "Right, hold that cloth to the cut, and I'll tie it with this," I say, producing my curtain.

We do so, and I'm fairly confident that it will keep pressure on the wound. She can't move properly however, and has lost a lot of blood and looks pale for it.

"Put this on," I say, pulling my coat around her shoulders. "You need to stay warm."

"Thanks," she murmurs.

I give her some water and a little food too, and she's feeling a little better. "It would be great if we could get you into a tree…" I ponder.

"I can try," she says, attempting to stand, but I push her back down.

"No," I insist. "There's too much chance of you losing too much blood. I'm not sure how much more you can afford to lose."

"You been sleeping in trees then?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say, "haven't you?"

"I tried," she says, "but I fell out. Nothing to tie myself in with."

I nod understandingly. "You must get cold at night."

She nods. "The first night in the snow I hardly slept. But the next day I headed away from the river and the snow stops."

"Really?" I say, eyebrows raised. That's news to me.

"Yeah, about an hour from the river," she says. "I've been going back and forth between the river and the grass most of the time basically."

"Seen anyone else?" I ask.

"Not until Cleo found me," she says ruefully. "You?"

"Jeremiah showed up at the feast after the careers left," I say. "I asked him to be allies but he said he couldn't be that trusting. Carson showed up too but Jade killed him."

"I saw his picture," confirms Tamla.

"She's got those throwing stars," I says. "She didn't have any problems getting sponsors."

We drift into silence for a while, before I speak up again. "Is it too far to get out of the snow?"

"Probably," she says, "but I want to try."

I decide not to argue and help her up, replacing my pack before looping her right arm over my shoulder and we head off.

It's horribly slow going and she's obviously in pain, but I remain quiet and patient. Even with me trying to hold her up and my staff in her left hand for support she falls several times. Eventually, with her face becoming paler again and blood starting to leak through her bandage I insist we stop for a bit.

Despite her protests that I need it, I make her eat some of my food and drink a little more water, and we rest for a while before continuing on even as darkness starts to fall. Cleo's face appears in the sky as we walk, confirming Tamla's suspicion that the earlier cannon was because of her attacker. We press on however, I'm determined to get out of the snow, for Tamla's sake, and I'm sure we must be close.

Sure enough, about twenty minutes later, just as the darkness becomes total, the snow starts to fade. We stop and I help Tamla sit against a tree trunk. It's still cold and she's shivering despite my coat, so I sit next to her and put my arms around her.

"What are you doing?" she asks, but doesn't protest as she leans into me.

"You're freezing," I say, "and I'm not exactly warm. We should share body heat, help keep the cold at bay a little."

She nods and is soon asleep, snuggled against my chest. I try to stay awake, knowing how vulnerable we are out here on the ground, but tiredness is getting to me. "Please…" I whisper, hoping some cameras are on us. "Don't let her die."

I don't have to act as a tear fights its way free from my eye. I know she won't last long without medicine. If the wound doesn't kill her then her inability to move properly will eventually mean we're hunted down.