AN: Aw, no reviews for last chapter? Oh well. Enjoy one of my favorite scenes at the end on this.
If you happen to be in the arena, you might hear laughter, amazingly enough. Sharp laughter, but laughter nonetheless. Overhead, in the pine trees, a pair of figures flit about. One stands tall and confident (despite the fact that she isn't very tall), the other more cautiously and half in a crouch.
"Haze!" Toria calls, "Hurry up! There's a good campsite over here, and I don't want to miss the death call."
"Is that what you call it?" Hazel mutters as she leaps from limb to limb. She, having grown up in a place where night hunting was considered the norm, is used to tree-jumping at night. Her blue eyes shine in the dark, similar to a cat's.
Toria lands on a particularly big branch, balancing on her toe tips. Glancing up the trunk, she grins, the moonlight gleaming off her teeth. "This'll do," she says, "And is there any other good name for it?"
Shaking her head, Hazel alights on a higher branch than Toria's. "Are we going up?" she asks.
"Yeah."
"But what about those flying things…"
Toria waves the comment away with a hand, testing the bark with the other. "They went to bed at dusk, I haven't seen them for a while. Besides, at least one of us will be up on watch at all times. No worries about them, then."
"Okay…"
Gripping the rough bark in her hands, Toria climbs her way up the trunk swiftly, transferring her weight quickly and keeping her center of gravity stable. In no time, she reaches a large fork in the tree. A dip is in the center, wider than a branch and a good place for one person to sleep. Higher up, a fork provides a good seat for a person on watch.
"Lovely," Toria nods at the space, not showing the slightest exertion at the climb upwards. Dumping off her pack, she jumps up to the fork, eyes gleaming. "It's almost midnight," she judges by the moon's position.
Hazel jumps up, looking up as well. "Yeah," she murmurs, "almost time to see who's left." Setting down her bow and quiver of arrows, she asks, "My watch first?"
"Nah, I'll do it. But you better not fall asleep 'til after the death call."
"Fine," Hazel agrees, pulling a jacket from the Cornucopia from her pack. Rolling it up, she puts it down, obviously intending to use it as a pillow. The oxygen-rich air is very warm, making any need for a blanket obsolete.
An anthem blares from somewhere, and the two look to the sky. A hovercraft thing is in it, displaying the country's crest. A voice calls out. "Helloooo tributes! How was your first day in the arena?" Livy. Who else? "Good? Good? Great. No, I'm not inviting you to anything, I'm simply giving you some company so that those of you loners don't have to talk to the nearest coconut out of desperation."
With that said, her voice cuts off. Pictures start to appear in the sky. Leah. Brandle. Both District Ones were goners, then, Toria thinks to herself. Raven, then Twila. That's it. A fourth of the tributes gone. The anthem plays once more.
"Hm. A bit disappointing, but we'll just weed out the rest of the competition. That bastard Aley is still alive," Toria growls.
Hazel yawns sleepily. She is ready to go to sleep by now. "Yeah, tomorrow, then…" She lays her head down on the makeshift pillow and sleeps, Toria watching for enemies…
…
"HOLY MOTHER!" Hazel wakes up with a start at Toria's screech of shock.
"That's a new one," she groans, "What's going on?"
Toria's eyes are bugged out. Hazel's never seen her so surprised. Toria points to the moon. "Look."
Glancing up grumpily, Hazel sees what has apparently freaked her ally out. The full moon isn't so full anymore. A shadow from the left has obscured part of it.
"Yeah, the moon's different. What's wrong with that?" Hazel sees nothing about it so important that it was necessary to wake her up.
Toria turns around, an unamused light in her eyes. "It was a full moon a couple hours ago. That's not the weird part."
"…then what is?"
"The moon wanes from the right, not the left."
Hazel is confused. Part of it's her sleep-muddled brain, part of it's the fact that she has no idea what the word "wane" means.
Toria grins, a bit exasperated. "I don't know what this is, but it probably means a challenge. I wasn't paying attention to the sky, and this greeted me when I finally did."
Nodding sleepily, Hazel yawns. "Okay then. Are your hands hurting as much as mine are? The bark here is rougher than the stuff at home."
"Yep." Toria holds up scraped hands. "I wish we had some sort of stuff for it."
As if by magic, a small package supported by a silver parachute drops down on them. A sponsor gift. Toria, tensing her legs, jumps. Snatching it from midair, she lands neatly, unwrapping it.
"Awesome," Hazel comments, standing up to open up the package. Sticking her fingertips in the contents, she sighs happily as the cream starts to heal her tiny many wounds. Scrapes were annoying and the pain they caused was potentially dangerous- it could distract one at a vital moment of a jump.
After she pulls out enough to coat her hands, Toria does the same. "Thank you!" Toria calls to the sky, hoping a camera will catch her shout. Putting the cream in a bag, Toria glances over to talk to Hazel but finds her asleep already. "Typical," she snorts, exasperated but amused.
She stays up a little later than necessary, watching the moon. Eventually, the moon disappears completely, gone. But as Toria watches, the moon reappears, but… an orangey color. A coppery tone.
Toria's never seen one before herself, but she's heard of these… lunar eclipses. She wonders why the Gamemakers chose the first night in the arena to have one. The moon continues on its path, eventually turning a deep red.
It's the brightest, reddest moon Toria's ever seen. It deserves the name of blood moon more than any other lunar eclipse she's seen pictures of. It doesn't look entirely natural in the sky...
It casts a bloody glow on everything, staining it like blood. The tree tops are reddish, the leaves gaining a crimson hue. Scarlet tints Toria's blades, looking like they've been used for more than a simple defense against the lizards and not cleaned (Toria always cleans her knives).
Yawning now, she grins at the moon. It really is pretty, something she'd like watching over her as she falls asleep. Getting off the watch post, she wakes Hazel up.
Poor kid gets quite the shock when she wakes up. Toria's wide grin is stained the color of rubies and the red light from the moon shines off her hazel eyes. She looks maniacal, which is not helped by the fact that a curved blade is held in a hand.
Yelping, Hazel pushes herself awake, a hand automatically going back for an arrow. Her ally laughs. "Your watch," is all Toria says before she flops down, closing her eyes.
Hazel looks up at the blood moon. That's not natural, she thinks. Oh well. It doesn't seem to be doing anything bad… other than terrifying her when Toria looks at her. But nonetheless, no harm.
Hazel pushes these thoughts of blood and Toria's red-tinted eyes in the moonlight away. Pulling out on of the many arrows she had, she plucks a tiny, tiny little dagger from her pack. Its hilt is made simply to be pinched between a couple of fingers. However, Hazel knows what she'll do with this miniscule weapon.
…
"Come on, Haze, geez… you had to wake me up so early, didn't ya?" Toria yawns, pulling on a backpack.
"It's your fault you stayed up so late…" the black haired girl mutters.
Shaking her mottled hair, Toria moves the headband so that it forces her hair out into an almost spiky do. "Blame the Gamemakers," she growls, "Blood moons rock."
Letting off a huge yawn, Toria gives herself a shake. "Well, let's go." Taking the lead, she starts tree-jumping, leaving Hazel to scramble after her.
After a few minutes of jumping, they arrive at a new thing: a river. It's rather wide and silvery, flowing rapidly. Toria stops on a branch above it, noting the distance between her branch and the ones on the other side. Stepping back a few paces, she gets a running start and launches herself over the river, catching a branch.
She turns to Hazel, grinning. "Come on, it's easy!" she yells.
Hazel is worried. Toria is much stronger than she is, having shown off her power in training. She had also seen how easily Toria had given a kick to Iggy's ribs, cracking them. Hazel is much better suited to speed and agility, which does not come in handy in a situation like this.
"I'm… going to find a narrower portion," she says hesitantly.
"Wimp!" Toria crows, turning around, ready to go.
This infuriates Hazel. You do not call her names. Coiling her muscles, she jumps as far as she can, aiming for a branch.
When she feels herself start to fall, she knows she won't make it.
The cold water is a shock. The speed of it even more so.
And Hazel can't swim.
She's always been terrified of deep water. The river here hadn't looked too deep, but she had been wrong. And now she is going to pay for her mistake.
The backpack weighs her down, the arrows and bow secure. She wouldn't be able to get them out, lighten the load. Her breath started to run out as she kept her eyes tightly shut, listening to the roar of the river and curling up. The river is fairly smooth bottom, not rocky, just sandy.
Hazel's chest grows tight as her breath departed her. Keeping her muscles tensed takes too much energy, and against her will, she feels herself start to go limp. Blackness starts to take over her vision.
A huge disturbance in the water nearby happens, but Hazel only cares when a hand grabs her arm and yanks her up.
The hand drags her out of the water, onto a wet and sandy bank. "Damnit!" a voice swears, "Damnit, you idiot."
Toria. Hazel coughs, heaving up a lungful of water. Toria smacks her on the back, hard, forcing more water up. Gasping for air, Hazel's breathing eventually settles into wheezing as she curls onto her side, exhausted.
Toria pulls Hazel's backpack off. When Hazel gains back enough breath to focus on what she's doing, she feels ashamed upon realizing what the blunder has cost them both.
Both of them had their backpacks on when they had dove into the water, accidently on Hazel's part. Their food is all ruined. The jacket is soaking, the weapons wet. They would rust if they weren't dried quickly.
Arrow feathers sopping, bow string wet. If left out to dry properly, they'd stay okay. But all the food is gone.
"We're going to starve now," Toria mutters after she sets out what can be salvaged.
"Really?" Hazel asks weakly, sitting up.
"We're going to have to hunt for more than just tributes. Our food is wet and ruined."
Hazel glances down, ashamed. "Oh…"
Toria, her hair flat against her head and darker from the water, starts scrubbing the weapons dry. "We can save these," she decides.
Hazel starts to get up, examining her bow and arrows. "I think the feathers were from a waterbird," she notes, "They're dry. And I think it's fake wood…" She turns her attention to the bow. "Fake wood, again… and the string seems waterproof."
Spinning around with a fake grin plastered on her face, Toria says, "Great. Then why don't you find us some food, will ya?"
Hazel gives a grimace and stalks off, muttering, "I almost drowned, you know…"
She walks for a few minutes, on the ground this time. Her hand's on her bow, ready to fire if necessary. After about ten minutes of this, there's an odd, almost chirping noise up ahead. Pulling herself into the safety of a tree, she pads along until she finds the source of the noise.
It's more feathered lizards. Oh, joy. These, however, are different from the one's Hazel has seen before. These are only about three feet high and eleven feet long. Instead of being the striped reddish brown of bigger feathered lizards, these are a pale gray, almost a blue. Thin, barely noticeable stripes mark their backs. Longer feathers, these sticking up from the sleeker body ones, are on the back of their heads.
Like the bigger feathered lizards, these have winglike feathers on their forearms. They have the same body and head shape as their larger kin (Hazel assumes the last part) and curved claws on their hands. A bigger claw, like Toria's favorite knife, is on each of their feet.
Yes, these are definitely related.
This group seems less coordinated than the other pack. They are, for the most part, ambling along. Occasionally they'd snap at each other. It seems like a good chain of command was never established.
There are seven of them. Seven opportunities for dinner.
…
"So let me get this straight," Toria says. She had finished drying her weapons when Hazel had come bursting in, saying there were good, big animals for food but she wanted Toria to see them. "There are more of these feathered lizards."
"Yep."
"And they're smaller, though a bit more numerous, than the other kind we encountered."
"Definitely."
"And they're blue."
Hazel laughs quietly. "Pretty much, yeah."
Toria picks up the pace, jogging along the branches as silently as she can be. In a few minutes, they find these smaller lizard things.
"We need a name for them," Toria comments, "We can't call them feathered lizards too."
"Scythe claws?"
"That'll work."
Toria shifts into a hunting crouch, watching the scythe claws. They animals have stopped momentarily, calling amongst themselves in a disorganized manner. "Hey Hazel," she starts, smiling, "Which one looks best to you?"
Gazing at the lizardlike animals for a moment, Hazel eventually says, "That one. The perky one, the one that keeps jumping around."
"The one with the short head feathers?"
"Yeah, that one."
Toria adjusts the blade in her hand. It's the favored curved one. She's grinning widely. "You want to get it or me?"
"Allow me." Hazel reaches back for her bow, selecting a special arrow. This one has been modified, the tiny point on the end switched for the little dagger. Drawing the bow, she aims carefully for the little creature. Sighting along the arrow, she releases it.
Suddenly, the arrow is buried in the animal's eye. With a sharp shriek that's abruptly cut off, it falls to the ground, dead. Toria, not caring about the others, lands on the ground with a thump. Whirling around, the scythe claws start screeching at her, flexing their muscles.
"Haze." Toria grins wider than ever. A challenge. "Please get our meal."
Hazel obliges, darting out of the tree to try to pick up the animal. "Toria!" she cries desperately as the scythe claws start to focus their attention on her, "This thing weighs more than I do!"
Toria rolls her eyes, still grinning. Yelling at the animals, she slashes at them with her knife, making them back away. "Shoo! Scat! Go away! This is our food!"
The scythe claws scream at her, sounding almost like a hawk or falcon. They start to back away nonetheless. When Toria flies at them, swiping her blade through the air and shrieking loudly, they finally break rank and flee.
Toria turns her attention back to the fallen scythe claw. "Let's eat," she says, grinning from ear to ear.
They build a fire, and clean out the animal. The good muscle is speared on sticks and stuck over the fire. Lifting the entire animal would've taken too much effort- by Toria's estimate, the thing weighed maybe 160 pounds. More than Hazel indeed, more than Toria as well.
Impatient for food, Toria rips a chunk off her portion the instant it's declared done. She ignores the steaming hotness of it, instead saying, "Tastes like chicken."
…
With the rest of the meat packed away, the pair get in the trees and begin their hunt once more. Toria, obviously intent on blood, listens carefully for any sign of a tribute. Hazel hasn't heard anything when Toria suddenly stops her, a finger to her lips.
There. A soft crunch, crunch. Footsteps, and human ones at that.
Toria's signature grin spreads across her face. This time, though, it's full of menace. "I know that gait," she says ever-so-softly.
Without waiting for a response, she springs away, darting through the trees. She accidently rustles some leaves. The footsteps stop unexpectedly. There's a slight scratching noise, like the maker of the noise is climbing into a tree.
With a start, Hazel realizes who Toria has been alerted to- Aley.
Scrambling after her, just as quietly, though, Hazel watches Toria speed through the trees until she suddenly stops. Hazel follows her gaze to a sixteen year-old with dark, mottled hair. Aley.
Thankfully, neither of them have noticed her. Hazel hides behind a large clump of leaves. She does not, under any circumstance, want to interfere in whatever will happen between them. For reasons unknown to Hazel, the two loathe each other.
"Fancy seeing you here." Aley's comment is short and clipped.
"Same to you." Toria dips her head in mock politeness. Hazel is certain that they are being focused on right now, so long as there isn't a more interesting fight than this one going on right now.
"Hiding in the trees, I see," Aley notes, smiling slightly. "A coward, as usual. Not expecting anything else from you."
Giving a short, harsh laugh, Toria remarks, "Oh? I suppose you didn't notice that you are in one as well? Ah, well. Stupid, as usual. Not expecting anything else from you," she mocks his last statement. "What, did you think we were one of the feathered lizards? Are they too big and bad for you?" The final few words are said as if to a baby.
Aley's well-mannered façade slips a bit, the smile fading. "As if. If I can handle you and your sister, I can handle those things."
Oh dear. Aley has hit the berserk button. Toria's face loses its grin, darkening. Her upper lip curls up into a snarl. "I distinctly remember that you happened to run away from that fight, Aley," she says softly. Dangerously.
Aley bends his knees, pulling a pair of long, straight daggers from his belt. "Ah, but you see, dear Toria," he chuckles, infuriating her further, "Up until that point, it was simply your lovely sister stopping me from completely winning against you."
"Don't. You. Dare call Bry that," Toria growls, pulling out a second curved knife.
Silvery gray eyes flashing, Aley sneers, "Oh, I dare. Besides, I have the right to call her pretty or sexy or whatever I want. She told me so herself."
Toria holds her arms out slightly to the side, balancing on her toes again. "You lost that right a long time ago. You lost it when you broke her heart. She may have said that you can call her whatever you want then, but trust me… you don't deserve to even look at her."
"And you're going to stop me?" Aley snorts as if it's a joke.
"I can. And I will."
A broad grin spreading across his face, Aley brandishes the daggers, getting into a fighting position. "I bet you can't."
"I bet I can," Toria replies, tilting her head to the side and starting to grin as well.
"You really think that?" Aley looks amused and cocky, as if he knows he can win. He's bigger than Toria, more muscular as well.
Giving him a dazzling smile, Toria says, "I'll bet my life that I can beat you… bastard."
Suddenly, they rush at each other. Aley thrusts his left dagger out at Toria's chest. The girl dives under him in a forward roll, landing on her tip toes and spinning. Her blades whirling, she pauses, smirking. "I'm over he-re," she sings, ducking to avoid his slash.
While she's lower, she does an interesting twist on one leg that kicks the other in Aley's direction. When it hits his stomach, she flips onto her hands, knocking one of his daggers away. Still gripping her knives, she alights right-side-up, only to get a slice along the left side of her jawbone.
Hissing in pain, she darts back several steps, blood dripping from the wound. Aley matches her step for step, slashing at her with his single remaining dagger and aiming blows at her with his other fist. Toria blocks them with her knives, the blades sending sparks up when they hit his.
Launching herself sideways, Toria puts one of her knives in her teeth as she moves to a new branch. "Every bit as slow as I remember," she growls around it.
"Every bit as weak as I remember," Aley counters, deflecting a snap kick from her foot with the flat of the blade.
Curving her body away from a potential dagger blow, she laughs. "You're so predictable," she says, throwing a knife at him.
Aley moves aside to avoid it, but it catches his left shoulder and leaves a deep, bloody gash in it. Yelping in pain, he isn't able to avoid the powerful kick that follows. It hits his collarbone, sending him out of the tree and into a small clearing. He somehow flips around in midair and lands on his feet.
"Damnit," Toria swears, leaping after him. The pair circle each other for a moment, not sure who would leap first. Finally, Aley breaks the dance with a shoulder shove into Toria.
Toria goes with the blow, backflipping on one hand to attempt to kick his face. Aley avoids the blow easily, pushing the foot aside and ruining her balance. "You know, your kicks wouldn't be so bad if you put some actual effort into them, bitch," he comments, barely managing to avoid her next move, a slice with the knife to the belly.
"You know, your kicks wouldn't be so bad if you actually did them," Toria says. She winces when he does one and manages to catch her a little below the waist. Stumbling backwards, she falls on her back, unbalanced. Aley is over her in an instant.
"Oh, is the little princess hurt?" he croons, keeping her down with a firm hand to the shoulder. Taking his dagger, he carves a little slit in the other shoulder's shirt, barely touching the skin beneath with the blade.
Furious hazel eyes meet gray ones as Toria suddenly grins. "Better a princess than a toad," she remarks cheerfully, swinging both her legs up in an enormous kick that sends Aley flying backwards. He hits a tree, and before he can slump to the ground, Toria is on him, stealing the dagger and sending it flying away.
"Now, Aley," she breathes heavily, forcing him to stay pressed against the tree with a powerful arm, "Where were we? Oh, have I gotten the upper hand?"
The dazed-from-impact boy glares steadily up at her, panting. "You'll never win," he growls.
Toria twirls her knife in her left hand. Hazel notes that, although she throws with her right hand, she prefers to use the left for closer control.
A slight smile spreading across her face, Toria brings herself closer to Aley, almost intimately so. Pressing the tip of her knife against his throat, she whispers, "I just did," while dragging the blade deep into his neck. He lets out a strangled gurgle, blood flowing freely from the wound. Toria rips her weapon from his neck, turning away and saying, "That was for my sister."
Behind her, the bloody and dead body of her enemy slumps to the ground as a cannon fires.