Hebe and I go to sleep satiated, full bellies as we dream until the morning.
When we rise, it's to the sun and a trumpet blare.
Both Hebe and I are on the quick alert, her glancing down from her branch at me with shock. "Who do you think it was for?" she asks softly.
"I don't know," I say, staring out at the horizon with sleepy eyes. "I really hope not anyone we know…"
We eat more figs for breakfast, and a nibble of bread each. We drink lots of water from the stream, before filling the canteen and setting out to track down the twins again. I keep thinking of that trumpet blare though– the dead tribute behind it. Was it one of our allies? Or maybe it was Pan. Or Hades. Or sweet, little Hestia.
I glance nervously to Hebe at my side and close the gap between us, hand on the hilt of the knife stuck inside my belt. By now both of us have gotten used to the smell of body odor that's been collecting on our skin since the start of the Games, so the lack of space isn't much concern. The only flaw of it is that it makes things hotter, when Gods know that isn't something we need.
It's very late in the afternoon, when Hebe and I stop to rest. I hand her the canteen first. It's while she's taking a greedy sip I hear the rustling. My first thoughts are of that fox that I saw the other day, the one that led me to Hebe… But no, this rustling isn't like that. It's made by movement of lithe bodies, sliding over the forest floor.
The sound of string draws back–
I tackle Hebe to the ground just as an arrow shoots in the direction of her chest, sticking into the tree behind her. She screams, but I stuff my hand over her mouth. The canteen is next to us, spilling all of our water onto the ground. It's the least of my worries though, senses attuned as I listen for another draw of a bow.
It never comes though, and instead I hear muttered curses, followed by tumbling and tussling. I grab my knife out of my belt; push Hebe toward a grove of bushes to hide just as two bodies appear from behind a gaggle of cypress trees. I duck into a crouch, adrenaline spiked, when I notice the golden curls, the long, brown braid.
They're wearing peacock feathers in their hair again, one behind each of their left ears. Both twins are decked in the same garments as the other tributes, though theirs are stitched with a deep green threading, patterned in bows and arrows. They've got quivers on their backs full of beautifully crafted arrows, and war paint around their bright eyes. Each has a pack, too.
"Alliance off then, I take it?" I ask from where I'm on the defensive on the ground, really hoping that my words are wrong.
Both twins turn their bows on me, expressions startled. My face seems to register with them then, and they lower their weapons slowly. "Only if you want it to be," they say at the same time.
"Not really," I chuckle.
They close the gap between us then and we embrace. "Gods, you have good hearing," says Artemis.
I grin; Plutus always hated that– never could scare me easy like he wanted to.
There's shuffling behind us and the twins seem abruptly ready to take aim again when Hebe pops her head out from the bushes. Artemis all but squeals in delight and rushes over to the small girl, pulling her into a hug and cooing at her in a mothering tone, talking about how she needs to re-braid her hair because it looks terrible and asking why didn't Kore do that for you? along with other worried things.
"You smell awful," says Apollo then, drawing my attention away from the two girls curled up together affectionately.
I give a wrinkle of my nose, take a sniff. I do smell pretty bad, but so does he. "Look who's talking," I smirk.
He shifts under his chest plate, leggings stretching beneath his tunic which fits his lean muscles tightly. "It's this fucking heat; who'd have known they'd turn the arena into a fireball?"
"Only the Gods," I say.
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth then, and before I can say anything he's leaning in and kissing me. Why are men always kissing me lately? I shove him off with a grunt and he laughs, shaking his head. "Sorry; we thought you were dead when we heard that trumpet this morning. I was worried."
"So was I," says Artemis, coming to stand next to us with Hebe at her side. By now the latter's collected the canteen once more.
She hands it off to me and I frown when I feel it's lost nearly all its contents. "You guys have water?" I ask them.
They nod. "Found a stream back east."
"Us too," intones Hebe.
"You haven't seen those…things, have you?" asks Artemis then, a shiver running down her back.
My eyes widen. "The fish women?"
"What?" asks Apollo. "No, she was talking about the hounds that stalk its banks. They look like something you'd see out of the Underworld."
"Oh," I say, confused. "So you guys didn't see the fish women either?"
"What are you talking about?" asks Artemis.
I shake my head, give a soft sigh. "It's a long story."
Artemis and Apollo tell me they were the first to the cornucopia before the real gore of the bloodbath could begin, and that's how they got their bows and quivers and packs. "We're fast," says Apollo with a gloating smile.
Artemis rolls her eyes. "And our plates were right across from the opening."
By now Hebe and I have each explained our separate experiences to them. I told the same story from earlier– that Ares chased me into the eastern woods, leaving mention of Hades and Hestia and the dead boy from Éxi out. We all talk around mouthfuls of figs, having gone back to mine and Hebe's little makeshift camp of sorts.
The twins were hesitant to stay by the stream at first, giving more claims of the hounds that chased them away the first day they wondered its banks. "They were as big as ponies," says Apollo with wide eyes. "Their shoulder blades looked as if they'd rip through their rotting skin. Their mouths dripped blood instead of saliva. We barely got away without being torn to shreds. It was fucking terrifying."
Hebe tells them of the large cat then in more detail, with its scorpion tail and fangs. I describe the fish women from the deeper parts of the stream, shivering as I replay the details of Chione's death over and over again in my head. "It's my fault," I say at last. "I could've stopped her from going into the water."
"So she could turn around and stab you?" asks Artemis, shaking her head wearily. "You did what you had to do, Kore. This Game is about surviving, not about being motherly. I know you like to take care of people, but these aren't the people to do so with."
I don't argue with her, even if somewhere deep in my gut I know she is wrong. I don't believe in this. I can't believe in this. And yet I feel the dead boy from Éxi's blood running down my neck, hear Chione's screams; I am happy that it was them and not me. Does this make me a monster like everyone else in the Capital? What would Plutus say, if he could see me now?
Artemis and Apollo and their bows are a lot more help than I could have wished for. They skew us a water fowl of some kind as it feeds at the stream. We cook it on a small fire and try to waft the smoke away so as not to signal anyone to where we are. The twins have managed to do this the past four days, so I trust them when they say that we shouldn't draw any unwarranted attention.
The bird is greasy much like the grubs from last night, and so I manage to convince myself to split the remaining bread from in fours. Apollo speaks his apparent surprise I've already received a gift this early in the Games. "Being number three in the favorites poll really meant good for you, our little Maiden." I want to snap at him not to call me that– I still have not much fondness for the nickname– but I know Prometheus would be upset if I did, so I simply give Apollo a soft smile.
Both of the twins are decent at climbing the tree to sleep. They've got rope in their packs so we don't have to worry about them falling out of the pine in the middle of the night, but Apollo ends up having to rest a few branches lower than even me because his weight won't be supported up this high. He's lean, but full of muscle from manning tills in his republic during the working months. Artemis ends up sleeping right next to Hebe, the two whispering in secret endearments to one another about their homes, telling stories that would lull me to comforting sleep if I wasn't anxious to see who that trumpet was for this morning.
Finally, as the digital stars rise in the sky, an image flickers into view of the dead tribute. It's the boy from Eptá. I can't help but wonder who killed him. Was it a Demigod? Was it Pan? Was it Hades? The thoughts swirl in my head until I hear Apollo hiss my name and duck my head to look at him.
"My sister asleep, yet?" he asks, and at Artemis' loud snore above me, I nod. "You wanna come down here with me, then?"
"Why?" I ask crossly, shifting in my ropes.
"Well, I wanted to kiss you more," he says, straight-forward in the answer as always. "If I end up dying here, I wanna know I'm going out having kissed the prettiest girl I've ever met."
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Apollo," I sigh, twisting to straighten myself back out. I am not going to kiss him. One kiss this morning was enough for me. Prometheus satiated any questions I had about kissing nearly five days ago; I can die without any more lips or tongue or teeth against mine, thank you very much. Besides, I do not feel that way for Apollo. I think of him more as an annoying brother than a lover.
He laughs at my answer, and I realize he's pretty much mocking me when he says, "You really are a little maiden, huh?"
"Go to sleep, Apollo," I say, and receive no protest.
We all drift soundly the rest of the night.
"You really think all this is necessary?" Hebe asks, trampling over thickets and trying not to fall.
Artemis catches her arm to keep her steady. "Yes, I do."
"What is scoping out the Demigods going to do for us anyways?" I ask, rubbing at the back of my neck where sweat is collecting and making my skin itch.
"Give us a down-low on the competition, Kore, keep up," smirks Apollo, grabbing my arm and hauling me forwards with him.
We've been together as a group for a whole of three days now. We wake up in the morning, eat, rest, mess around a little in combat to keep our wits sharp, eat again, rest some more, walk around the distance of the camp, eat again and go to bed. Today is different though. The twins have become bored of our little routine. No other tributes have died, and we're all antsy that the Gamesmakers are going to do something to induce action soon. "Better just to give them a little something," Artemis whispered to all of us this morning before we took off to go back to the Demigods' camp.
"What are we planning to do anyways?" I ask, shrugging Apollo's touch off of me where it lingers on the small of my back, close to the swell of my bottom. He likes making grabs just to frustrate me and I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. Every night, he still asks me to kiss him. "Pick off stragglers?"
"Why not?" asks Apollo with a shrug. "If Artemis and I can get into a good enough position, we'd be able to shoot anyone in range right through the throat. May as well take out the competition now, right?" He sounds so casual about killing someone that to the audience watching us live it's believable. Yet, next to me, I can feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. Artemis and Apollo may have been painted as savages, but they've never killed anyone before and I don't think they really want to start now.
But what choice do we have? I think. It's not like we can just hide out forever.
The Gamesmakers hate lags like this; it doesn't make for good programing. Any moment now we're waiting for them to send some kind of creature after us, like those hounds the twins have shivered about for days now with every recollection. At least if we try to start some kind of drama ourselves, we may be off the Gamesmakers' radar and they'll go for another tribute to torture.
That doesn't make this little impromptu mission any less dangerous, though.
Best case scenario, maybe Artemis and Apollo do shoot down one of the Demigods. But that would only put a target on our backs. There aren't any other skilled archers this year; unless the rest of the Demigods are stupid, they're going to know who the assassins are. And they're going to hunt us down and slaughter us, with extra blood for the sake of a good show.
I shiver as an image of Ares' hands around my throat invades my mind; I'm sure he'll keep me half-conscious for hours until eventually the fear makes my heart give out. He's crazy enough to do something like that, and after all the humiliation I've so far caused him I'd imagine he will.
We're a good days' trek away from the cornucopia, which is where the twins are sure that the Demigods have kept camp– they do every year. It was at the crack of dawn that Apollo was the one to pipe up the idea to go "hunting", Artemis giving a sly, nervous smile of agreement. If we make it there by nightfall, they're sure it'll give us enough cover to be able to get away once their plan goes into action.
I keep giving nervous glances to Hebe's cultish legs with the thought. She's just so small, and though she's fast, the brush of the ground makes her trip a lot. If we had flat lands to run across, I'm sure she'd be just fine, but this forest is too dense for such a wish.
The one thing I am thankful for of this entire endeavor is that we are not following the stream back to the meadow. Instead we're deeper into the forest in the safety of the trees, far away from where those things can sing out to us, an ache in our lower bellies that we think they can quell by walking into the waters before their teeth begin to rip at our skin, devouring until there is nothing left.
Our group walks in silence after that. We rest once to eat leftover bird meat and figs we've taken with us from our old camp, drinking water vigorously to keep the heat of the arena at bay. Having three canteens comes in handy, especially when they've got to be used between four people.
The trek resumes once again when we've lounged for a while, letting our sore feet heal. I took a bath in the stream this morning, but already I smell highly of sweat and my clothes are once-more damp with it. The day seems unusually hot compared to all the rest. Even under the shade of the trees the air is thick with humidity and appears to shimmer in a certain light. I'd think you could cut it with a knife, if I didn't know the laws of physics thanks to having the strange want to pay attention in school unlike most of my classmates who usually all slept before having to head out to work in the fields.
It isn't until sun fall we're allowed to stop again, and that's only for a brief moment to eat and rehydrate. We sprawl on the ground lazily.
"We're so close," says Apollo as he pops a fig into his mouth. "I can practically smell it."
"Bullshit," calls Artemis, and laughs at her twin's disgruntled expression. "Apollo always has claimed a keen sense of smell, but don't let him fool you. It's nowhere near like your hearing, Kore."
Unjustly, I blush. "It's just because I had an older brother who liked sneaking up on me to try and scare me. You get good on listening to everything around you in a circumstance like that. Sure pissed Plutus off, though."
"Is that the brother Hermes was talking about in your interview?" asks Apollo, and I nod grimly. "How'd he die, anyways?"
"Apollo," hisses Hebe, the first time I've ever seen her anywhere close to mad. "That's rude to ask."
"Well, she may as well tell us," Apollo shrugs. "I mean, it's not like the rest of the Capital doesn't already know by now, since we're in the Games and all."
A fire spreads in my gut at that. I hadn't wanted the Capital knowing anything. It was bad enough the officials of the Games would've seen it– my family's logs on display for them the moment my name was drawn at altar– but now all of the other dimwits from that place get to try and judge my brother too? It isn't right; especially when Plutus didn't really commit a crime. At least to me he didn't. Calling President Cronus an idiot that deserved to starve along with the rest of us was truth, not treason.
"He was whipped," I say despite myself. And he certainly didn't deserve it. "Committed a small offense. The Guards in our republic, they're…strong-headed about their job. We tried to stop Plutus from dying afterwards; it didn't take."
"I'm so sorry, Kore," says Artemis then, eyes going wide. "I can't imagine losing a sibling."
Apollo grabs her hand comfortingly. "I can't either. I'm sorry I asked you that, Kore. It wasn't fair."
"No big deal," I say, trying to shrug it off. "It happened a while ago. I still have Despoina and Arion and my mother."
"What about your father?" Artemis asks softly. "What happened to him?"
"He died in the fields," I say. "He had a bad heart. Despoina and Arion's father passed out there, too. Heat stroke."
"Gods, that's awful," Hebe whispers. "Almost losing Ganymede was hard enough, but to lose that many people. I'm sorry Kore."
"Yeah, that does suck," say Artemis and Apollo at the same time. "We lost our uncle Koios a few years back, but that doesn't begin to compare to a father."
"Hey, guys, no worries," I insist, wanting to take the attention off myself. "This isn't the 'let's dwell on Kore's misfortunes' show. We have better things to do, like fight some people, right?"
And, as if the heavens seek to mock me, that's when a knife goes whizzing past my head.
