Chapter 11

With ambient light seeping through the roof of the cave, I stretched the skin around Maevery's wound lightly, to her subtle groans, and discovered that the wound had already closed, forming a short one-inch line. Most importantly, the skin was free of inflammation. Cleaning the dried blood and sweat away with snow, I thought her prospects good. "You have a clean stab wound. There is no tearing and no debris. The weapon may have penetrated deep into the muscle, but the lack of a major hematoma tells me that no major arteries were nicked. You should make a full recovery, but you will be sore for a while."

"I can't afford to have a limp," said Maevery from beneath her forearm.

"Perhaps a sponsor will give you some Capitol medicine that will speed up your recovery." Sensing her despair, I kept silent as I dressed her wound so not to provoke her further.

Once I had cleaned her wound with melted snow and dressed the leg with torn strips of clothing from the edge of my thermal shirt, I scooted back to my side of the snow cave with the concern that Maevery's wounds were much deeper. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she replied. But moments later, it became apparent that she did want to say something, if not for me, for herself. "I killed the guy from District Eight."

"Oh," I said in a soft tone. I wanted to console her, but I knew words would not help in this instance.

As we sat in a solemn silence, my resolve to get Maevery home began to grow further. I remembered the nuts in my pocket and pulled out a handful. "I found these higher up the mountain, before I saw the muttations. I think the mutts were supposed to be guarding them."

Maevery rolled onto an elbow. "How do they taste?"

"Don't know. I don't recall seeing these in our training. I'm worried that they may be poisoned."

"How are we to find out if they are poisoned or not?"

Staring at the nuts in my hand, I took one and popped it in my mouth.

"Pahl!"

"I'll be your taste tester," I mumbled, trying to ignore the bitter taste. "We should know soon enough if these are poisoned."

"Don't be stupid."

"What?" Meeting her stare, I tried not to react to the bitterness coating my mouth. "I may not be a fighter, but I can help you get home in other ways."

Maevery rolled onto her back. "Could you please stop talking like that?"

"Like what?" I forced down the bitter nut.

"Stop talking like a martyr. I don't like it."

"Oh." I set the nuts down upon the snow. "But this is what we all agreed upon, isn't it?"

"Yes. I just don't like hearing it."

To wash out the bitter taste, I scooped a handful of snow into my mouth. Taking a moment to consider my past word choices, I realized that I should apologize. "I never meant to sound like a martyr. I'm sorry." I scooped even more snow into my mouth, recalling the moment of my volunteering at the reaping. "In the future, you can tell your grandkids about how your district partner saved two lives. I want to be remembered as someone who helped people; that's all."

"I'll make sure people know of your kindness towards others, but I won't be telling my grandkids."

"Why not?" I asked.

"I don't plan on having kids; they'd just end up in the games."

"Well, don't rule it out. I once told my late grandfather that I never wanted to be a dad, that I had nothing to teach anyone. You know what; granddad laughed at me, telling me that we don't teach our children, our children teach us. He promised that I'd understand one day."

With a sigh, Maevery closed her eyes, letting the subject drop.

After a while, I held up one of the nuts. "I'm not dead yet. Do you want some? I will confess that they don't taste very good."

Her disapproving stare warned me again about my word choices, but she nodded and accepted a handful.

Observing how her hands shook, I asked, "Can't warm up?"

"My body isn't adjusting to the arena quick enough."

"We could reverse our jackets?" Waiting for her response, I shrugged, knowing that a fire was not an option. "Your leg would benefit from a long nap."

After a few seconds of contemplation, Maevery nodded, and we removed our jackets to don them backwards as taught to us in District 7. We next lay on our sides, pressing our backs together before overlapping our jackets to form an impromptu sleeping bag.

Twisting my hood to the side to form a pillow, I asked, "Am I radiating enough heat for you?"

"I think so. You actually feel hot to me." Maevery twisted her hood to the side. "Do you ever feel cold?"

"Not really. Sometimes the wind stings my face. If you had a choice, would you pick snow or mosquitoes?"

"Mosquitoes."

"Really?"

"Ya," she replied in her thick, District 7 accent.

As Maevery settled into a comfortable position, I felt compelled to ask an unpleasant question, "Who all died yesterday?"

"The boy from Twelve, the girl from Eleven, both from Eight, and the girl from Two. There were more in the middle of the night that we'll see in the sky tonight."

My eyes drifted to the floor of our snow cave. "I thought Minerva would make it through the first day."

Maevery bit into another nut. "Were you really going to ask her for a dance?"

"Yes."

"She probably would have killed you."

"Well...that was the plan." My breathing deepened. "I figured that I was already dead, so I wanted to go out in the arms of a pretty girl."

Maevery chewed in silence until she asked, "And now?"

"Now, I find myself in a winter arena, in an environment that I thrive in. So I'm going to help my district partner...my friend get home."

"No more thoughts of…dancing?"

"No more thoughts of dancing. I promise."

"Good." She bit into a nut. "I'm going to hold you to that promise."

Flushed with emotion, I said in almost a whisper. "Thank you."

Minutes later, with her nuts consumed, Maevery succumbed to her exhaustion and fell asleep.

And as my friend's body temperature began to rise, so did my mental fortitude. I closed my teary eyes and concentrated on building a sled, but unavoidably, my thoughts drifted to the fallen redheaded girl from District 2, the girl most worthy of her name.

A couple hours into her nap, Maevery's body began to twitch as she mumbled the occasional word. Her vivid dream then began to make her movements more violent as her legs began kicking me. Her mumbled words grew louder as her head started to twitch.

Worried that we might butt heads, I placed my arm behind my head, contemplating if I should wake her, when she sat up with a gasp.

I sat up with my arms raised, ready to console her. "It's okay, you were dreaming."

Gasping for breath, Maevery only said one word. "Rye."

"What about Rye?"

"We have to find him." Maevery slid out of her jacket and began donning it properly. "He's in danger."

"It was just a dream."

"Perhaps, but it may have been a sign he needs my help." Maevery retrieved her knife and slid it into her belt. "Will you help me?"

"Yes, of course. How's your core temperature? Have you warmed up?" I began reversing my jacket.

Staring at the ground, Maevery assessed her physical state my stretching her leg. "I'm warm again. Except for my sore leg, I'm good."

"Okay," I said with a supportive smile. "Let's go find Rye."

As we retraced our steps that afternoon, Maevery walked with a determined vigor, using the spear for support. Ignoring her leg wound, she carried her hunting knife at the ready as she led us to the section of lake where she first came ashore.

She glanced over the frozen lake, focusing in the direction of the starting platforms hidden by the winter haze. "Rye and I had a plan to grab the first available weapon and then proceed outward from the center until we were safe. He insisted that if we were to be separated that we should use my launch platform as reference point." Maevery turned around to look up at the rising mountain. "He should be in this general direction."

Recalling the confusing time when I entered the arena, I said, "That is, if either of you remember the correct platform."

Maevery glared at me.

"I'm just saying it was mass confusion at the start. Does he have much winter experience?"

"No," replied Maevery. "District Nine doesn't experience our winters, but they do get snow. Nothing like this."

Glancing up at the mountain, I commented, "Then I doubt he carved out a snow cave or dug a fox hole under a pine. If I had to guess, he went up there to seek out an actual cave."

"Then that is where we'll go," said Maevery.

"The Jabberwockies are waiting to ambush anyone who goes up the mountain."

Maevery gave me a disapproving look. "We're going up the mountain."

"Okay, we're going up the mountain," I affirmed. "But may I suggest we travel by exposed ground and avoid as much snow as possible. The Jabberwockies like to hide under the deep snow."

"You don't have to go with me if you are afraid."

Not wanting to admit how scared I actually was, I tried to think of a non-cowardly way to express my concerns. When Maevery turned away, I reached for her shoulder. "Maevery, it's not just that. I don't want you getting hurt; you should rest your leg. I promised Johanna and Blight that I would help my district partner if I could. This is what I'm going to do, whatever it entails. Okay?"

"Thank you." With a faint smile, Maevery passed her spear to me. "Since you have already scouted the dangers higher up, you should lead the way."

"Okay." Using the spear as a walking stick, I began another stressful trek up the mountain. This time, I took a slower pace so Maevery would not strain her leg. But as we neared the vertical rock face closer to the top, I showed more signs of breaking than Maevery as the stress on my nerves rose to the surface.

Both of us needing rest, we sat amongst a small cluster of pines as we rehydrated our bodies with snow, ever searching for dangers. I thought the absence of human tracks to be a sign that we were searching the wrong area and worried that Maevery would still want to scourer this location, which would ultimately draw the attentions of the muttations. The only consolation was that darkness would soon be upon us, forcing us to return to our snow cave without Rye. Though it pained me to think it, I would not have minded seeing Rye's face projected in the night sky had he perished this second day.

A blood-curdling scream resonated from the mountainside, bringing Maevery and me to our feet. When another scream of anguish bounced off the mountain, Maevery took off running towards the source. "That's Rye."

Grabbing the spear, I followed Maevery across a snow covered clearing as she ran towards the sound of a struggle. With each step, I worried that a Jabberwocky would suddenly appear. But I pressed forward after Maevery who had by then located the entrance to a cave.

When Maevery came to an abrupt halt, I slid to a stop beside her—terror immediately filling my body with what we found. In the opening of the cave, a large muttation with oily black fur and a long snapping tail mauled at a tribute struggling beneath it, Rye.

Maevery sprung forward, her hunting knife readied to be thrown. With me remaining at her side, she stopped with in a close range to the muttation and threw her heavy knife, striking the creature in the head with a loud thump. The weapon bounced into the air, landing in the snow behind the creature's back.

Though the knife had not stuck into muttation, the hard blow took its attention off Rye, revealing rat like eyes that sharpened on us.

Trembling in my boots, I debated how best to fend off the beast—whether to lunge for its heart or wave my spear tip continuously in the muttation's face—when Maevery ripped the spear out of my hands.

Crouching just as the muttation surged forward, Maevery planted the butt of the spear into the ground, catching the muttation in the chest with the spear tip, impaling the monster with its own weight as the beast tumbled over us, knocking Maevery and me to the ground.

Climbing to my feet, I stared fearfully at the hideous monster lying still in the snow. Designed to dwell and hunt in the close confines of the caves, this Gamemaker creation of sinister claws and large rat like teeth would have been unbeatable in the darkness.

Maevery only paused long enough to make certain of the muttations demise before running to Rye's side. As she began tearing off strips of clothing to bandage his wounds, Rye joked with her that he had found dinner, at which she laughed with tears falling from her eyes.

Watched Maevery applying first aid, I thought Rye's wounds to survivable if Maevery could apply snug enough bandages since none of the wounds appeared to be uncontrollable punctures. However, her friend would not be travelling without aid.

I caught wind of the muttation's horrendous smell and returned to the carcass for further inspection. When I pulled out the spear, the creature's blood poured out into the snow, appearing almost black in color and thinner than human blood. This only reaffirmed my rejection of salvaging any meat. This must be the Bandersnatch, I thought.

Fighting the urge to retch, I returned to the mouth of the cave and located Maevery's knife in the snow before returning to her side where she was tying the last bandage. As she brushed Rye's hair from his brow, I noticed a small, dark red stain forming over her shoulder. She unzipped her coat to discover that she had again escaped death with a simple flesh wound from the muttation's claws.

Having learned that the mountain caves were more dangerous than imagined, we wisely decided to return to my snow cave and began hobbling silently down the hillside towards the lake. Supporting Rye, I watched droplets of his blood drip harmlessly from a pooling blood patch in the sleeve of his jacket into the snow. Though the blood not frequent enough to leave a noticeable trail, our stumbling feet left snow tracks, large ones since our group now consisted of two wounded warriors and a feeble pacifist.

The odds have definitely not turned in our favor, I thought.

...

Unable to sleep inside the snow cave, my bare fingers scratched aimlessly at the snow beneath my chin. Scratching lightly—so not to wake Maevery and Rye, I struggled to ignore Rye's painful groans that he made in his sleep.

When Maevery rolled over, I took the opportunity to touch her shoulder.

Her hand gripped her knife before her eyes had opened. Surveying the snow cave quickly, she gave me a questioning look. "What?"

"I can't sleep," I whispered. "I need to stretch my legs. I'll go up the mountain and retrieve some more nuts and anything else I may stumble upon."

"Aren't you concerned about the muttations?"

"Yes, but I know to avoid the deep snow near the top. Plus I know where the creatures hide and what they look like." Hearing another faint moan come from Rye, I paused to see if he had wakened. After a couple seconds of stillness, I said to Maevery, "I'll be careful."

Aware that it was too late to go back and recover meat from the dead muttation, Maevery agreed. She gripped her knife by the blade and offered the weapon to me.

"What is this for?" I asked.

"In case you stumble across someone. You could also set some rabbit snares along the way. You'll need the knife if you snare one." She watched for my response. "Please tell me that you're not the type of pacifist that would refuse to kill a rabbit, even if starving?"

"No," I lied. Wanting to escape her doubting look—and Rye's moans, I reluctantly took the blade and tucked it into my belt before promptly leaving the snow cave.

The morning twilight hinted that sunrise was still a couple hours away. Standing up behind a large tree, I visually inspected the area around our snow cave and found the landscape undisturbed as the drifting snow had covered most of our tracks. A foggy haze continued to hang over the arena, making it impossible to see the Cornucopia in the center of the frozen lake.

Not wanting to leave tracks that might lead to Maevery, I first traveled over the exposed tufts of grass to the lake. When I reached the ice, I even took the opportunity to explore around the inlet of land, near the shore.

Standing on the ice before the tip of the inlet, I estimated that a couple inches of snow had accumulated on the left side. I proceed to step onto this snow in the dim morning light, listening for any potential sharp crack that would precede a break in the ice. After a few steps towards shore, I stopped to dig my boot into the snow to study the ice beneath. Finding the ice color a darkening grey, I stepped further into the snow patch. Still several yards from shore, I began to feel the faintest bounce within a few steps—something undetectable by the inexperienced. With my foot, I cleared the snow away to find dark thinning ice, which confirmed my suspicion that the inlet disrupted the circular lake flow with underwater eddies.

Not wanting to press my luck, I retraced my steps to safer ice before proceeding up the mountain along my previous day's path. Halfway to my destination, I plopped down into a snow bank, exhausted, for the deciduous trees buds that I was consuming along the way proved insufficient for climbing mountains. Catching my breath, I fully unzipped my jacket to let the sweat evaporate and began consuming handfuls of snow.

The arena had brightened with the first rays of morning light. Enjoying the hazy scenery, I thought my current complacency peculiar despite being in the middle of a fight to the death competition. Mostly, I noticed how uncomfortable I felt around Rye. Having inspected his wounds, I was confident that he would survive—I wanted him to survive—but the bond between him and Maevery was too strong. Something that powerful would have repercussions, leaving me to only hope that he shared the same intention: that Maevery should be the one who goes home as victor.

Pulling Maevery's knife from my belt, I turned the blade slowly in my hand to study the sharp and serrated edges. To me, the blade epitomized the cruelty heavily that outweighed kindness in this cold world. However, the blade did serve a purpose for those few honorable who choose to defend non-aggressors. But where? I wondered. Not in Panem. Since so few living things in this world died from old age, I had an urge to toss the blade down the mountainside. Instead, knowing that Maevery would want her blade returned, I tucked weapon back into my belt and did what most living things inevitably do: I climbed back onto my feet and staggered onward up hill.