The storm continues throughout the night; with undiminished intensity. A dim glow in the clouds is all that remains of dawn; and still no sign of Cato. Too windy for him, or too wet? We have all his food; what is he waiting for?
It is now bright enough for me to keep an eye on the surroundings, without the need to wait for the next flash. Lake and stream have burst their banks; the lower part of the fields – just where our old camp was located – is flooded inch-deep. We are several feet higher up here; as long as it doesn't continue like this for days we will be safe...
What are the Gamemaker's intentions behind that storm? Must be boring for the audience to see all the tributes in their dens, hiding away from the weather outside. What's the purpose of this? Are they trying to get rid of a certain tribute they don't like? There are more effective, and more spectacular methods for achieving this. Do they need more time to think up something for a great finale? I doubt it; I'm quite sure they have some plans in reserve since the beginning of the games. Something more important going on outside the arena? Can't be Snow's birthday (which is in mid-winter), then – could it be his funeral? That'd be too good to be true.
Time... does someone inside the arena need a break, then? Can't be Thresh,or me. Can't be Cato who's just getting hungrier with each passing hour. Fire girl? Unlikely – but what about her district partner? There was medicine for him at the feast; that means he's hurt. Besides the contents of that orange pack, a few days of rest are probably all he needs now. The storm; it is just perfect - allowing him to regenerate a little; for an even more memorable end.
Almost lost in thought, I notice a strange movement in the grass. It's coming closer, and it is definitely something large.
"Thresh?!", I shout.
"What?" is his answer. I'm glad he sounds awake.
"Over there.", I say, indicating the approximate direction, "Something big.".
"Cato?", he asks, reaching for his scythe.
It is now close enough for me to catch a glimpse of its skin: brown, and scaly. That is certainly not Cato. Whatever it is, it's making a low, sonorous rattling noise.
"Rattlesnake!", I scream.
"Get behind me!", Thresh yells; I obey without thinking.
The beast rises up in front of us. Its head is now towering more than a yard above the grass, attached to a body thick as the stem of a tree. This is no normal rattlesnake; it must be one of the Capitol's special creations.
Thresh swings his scythe. It dodges, but not enough to fully escape the blow – the blade leaves a thin, red streak on its body. Not enough to seriously wound the mutt, but certainly enough to enrage it even more. It hisses loudly, then bares its fangs. And suddenly, it strikes forward.
This time, the scythe goes right through its neck from below. The snake's body collapses to the ground, still twitching and rattling in a disoriented manner – the severed head takes a different path, flying off in high arc before ultimately landing at my feet: dead as a doornail.
"Nice swing!", I congratulate him.
"Get away!", Thresh shouts back at me.
I take a step back, and not a moment too early – somehow, the snake head has decided to come to life again, scratching the leather as it tries to sink its teeth into one of my boots. What the hell is this? I've seen dozens of different mutts in previous games, but this is the very first one refusing to stay dead.
"Are you hurt?", he asks.
"I think not.", I reply, "The head... how did you know?".
"Because that's what they always do. There is a saying back home; that they have two lives. The rattlers. Killing them once... isn't enough. You have to finish the head as well.", he answers.
"And how?", I ask.
"Burn it. Squash it. Doesn't matter. Just never touch it, or get anywhere near it.", he states, "The head can bite for hours; some say even days.".
Amidst all that rain, fire is not an option. Attempting to crack its skull could ruin the blade. So what to do with it then? Thresh simply shoves it out of sight; into the tall grass.
"Have you seen where?", he asks, "Remember where the head is?".I nod.
"Let's hope Cato doesn't.", I reply, causing a broad grin in his face.
The whole agitation makes me feel a little dizzy, and there is a strange numbness in my left ankle. Left? That's not good. Left was the side the undead snake head tried to bite. Did it... poison me?
As I remove the boot, my worst fears are coming true: it is more than scratched; it is punctured. There is a hole in it; right at the ankle. And there is a tiny red spot on my sock as well. Red; as red as blood. My blood. The wound itself is barely noticeable; nothing more than a slightly bleeding scratch – that's why I felt nothing when it bit me.
I could ask Thresh about rattlesnake venom; maybe he knows some kind of remedy – but it is pointless, as this was no ordinary rattlesnake. Only the Gamemakers know what kind of venom they put in there; and where to find an antidote.
Strange, how it all ends: I played hopscotch on mined ground. Routed the Careers with bare hands. And survived to tell the tale; only to get killed by something already dead.
"Thresh?", I call out. My vision gets blurry. There is a lot I want to tell him, but I can't.
The last thing I remember is a pair of strong hands trying to catch me as I collapse to the ground. Then, I black out completely.