/N: Hey everyone! Here is October's chapter. I got all of the tribute info back! Hurray! I now know that Amia is bad at making snares, although I apparently had her catch two rabbits and a squirrel in the last chapter. Oh well. Maybe she learned something during training, no? I'm going to have to kill off another character soon or the story will go nowhere…*sob*
Anyway, that's all for now. Bye!
Amia Laksu ran. She knew there was a tribute behind her, and she was tempted to turn around and see who it was. To make sure it wasn't one of the careers, or anyone who would do her immediate harm. But looking behind her meant distraction, it meant tripping, and tripping now meant certain death. Amia wondered if the mutt had been there all along, or if the gamemakers had thrown it into the arena to stir things up. Wasn't enough happening to the other tributes? Was the audience bored already? Her mind landed on her knives, and she tried to work out if she could kill the mutt. Better not risk it. She also thought about climbing a tree, but who knew how high the mutt could jump? Amia slapped a strand of hair out of her face and kept running.
A small girl with blonde hair curled up on the small couch in her house. Outside, the sky was dark and rain pounded the metal roofs. The girl's mother sat next to her, but her blue eyes did not look at the TV screen in front of them. The woman stared out into space, lost in her own pain and sadness. The little girl waved a hand in front of her mother's face, but the woman did not even blink.
On the TV, a girl with short dark hair was running away from a horrible lion like creature. The girl was only twelve, only two years older. Two years, the girl thought. Two years and that could be me. The mutt bared its teeth, saliva dripping from its mouth as it continued to run. The twelve year old was fast, but she would tire soon. And when she did…
The little girl felt a tear slip out of her eye and run down her face. She heard the bang of a door, and her older sister came into the room, throwing down a bag of dead squirrels.
"Hey little duck. Don't cry," Katniss said. "I won't let anyone hurt you." Primrose Everdeen managed a smile through her tears.
Back in district five, Sam, Joshua, and Natalie watched Patrick Norgotto walk through a field of boulders.
"He's walking?" Natalie asked. "Shouldn't he be, like, running away?"
"He's Patrick," Sam replied, as if that explained everything.
"I'm surprised he's made it this far," Rondo, one of Patrick's foster brothers, said. "A zero for a training score? He's survived the bloodbath, but who's gonna sponsor him? If I were a capitol freak, I wouldn't."
"But he's not talentless," Natalie said. "I mean, sure, he's kind of awkwardly tall and his voice-"
"Now now Natalie," Joshua said in a false reprimanding tone. "It's not nice to mock others."
"But what's he doing?" Sam said. "Nat's right, he's not talentless. He may not be a career, or as strong as that boy from seven, but there's luck involved too. If he tried, I bet he could win this thing."
"But does he want to?" Joshua asked. The three friends and Patrick's brother exchanged a glance. Each knew the answer.
Patrick whistled slightly to himself. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he almost didn't notice a pair of feet sticking out of the shadows. He crept towards them.
He recognized the tribute as the boy from seven, Dylan? Hector? Hayden? Something like that. It didn't really matter. Patrick saw the boy's bow lying next to him, and a backpack. One straight from the center of the cornucopia.
Patrick briefly considered stabbing the boy with one of his own arrows, then found himself disgusted with the thought. I'm not going to kill for those freaks. And this boy's not even hurting me. He carefully took some food from the backpack, then gently pushed Hayden's feet into the shadows. Satisfied that no one else would find the boy by accident, Patrick kept walking.
Once he determined himself out of the range Hayden's hearing, he stopped.
"I DIDN'T KILL HIM!" Patrick yelled at the top of his lungs. "BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT? I'M NOT JUST A PAWN TO PUSH AROUND. I AM MY OWN PERSON, AND NOTHING YOU DO WILL CHANGE THAT." His voice cracked, and he could almost hear the laughter of the bullies who teased him back in district five. The capitol freaks were probably laughing at him too. Patrick found himself smiling at the idea. "KILLING PEOPLE IS SICK." He shouted. "AND YOU KNOW WHAT? ALL OF YOU WATCHING THIS ARE SICK FREAKS. What do you think of that?" Suddenly, Patrick began laughing, and he couldn't stop. Let them kill him with a man made earthquake. A fire. A landslide. As long as he was alive, he would shame the Capitol, make fun of him. He would play against their game, he would do everything in his power to make them suffer. And though Patrick Norgotto had very little power, he felt on top.
Mrs. Southerland gripped her teacup like it was the only thing holding her in the world. Mrs. Peterson was doing the same. The two women, and a group of others, had been tasked with throwing a party. Why anyone felt like partying right now, Mrs. Southerland could not fathom. Apparently some of the younger children at school had been feeling 'down' because of the hunger games and some idiot somewhere thought a party would cheer them up. What business of mine is it if some little kids get scared? Why am I doing this? I should be at home. I should be with Cato…Mrs. Southerland thought.
Amethyst's mother watched her friend taking deep breaths across the room. She thought about saying something, but what? Not congratulations, not this year. Any other years, yes, but how could she congratulate her friend on her son's volunteering? How could she praise a boy who was pitted against her own daughter? How could she pretend that everything was okay when either of them could lose their child anytime? She couldn't.
As the preparations continued, Mrs. Southerland slipped out the back door. She was walking back towards the victor's village, back towards her home where her one remaining child waited.
Amethyst's mother followed. "Hera!" She called. Mrs. Southerland turned.
The two women stared at each other, taking in little details. Each was dressed impeccably, a façade to hide their worry and fear from the district. Each was wearing heels, standing tall. Each had a vague look in their eyes every time they went out, because their minds were back at home, focused on their children.
Hera Southerland wished she could speak to her friend. Comfort her, console her. She wished she could speak of her own worries about Jaret and Amethyst, and be assured that it would be all right. But she could not bring herself to say these things. "Good day Mrs. Peterson," she said, then walked away. Cato was waiting for her at home. Her son. Her wonderful son. She walked through the back streets, so that no one would see her crying.
Atala heard the steps of the mutt slow behind her. She kept moving, trying to increase her distance from it. As she ran, she fumbled in her jacket for a throwing knife. If she could just get far enough away that she could stop and aim… She stopped and turned, panting heavily from exertion. She raised her hand to throw her knife, aiming straight for the muttation's eye. Just then a silver blur whizzed past her ear, and sank into the beast's hind leg. Atala turned around to see a little girl in the lowest branch of a tree, pulling out another knife.
"Duck," she called, and the knife spun over Atala's head. It hit the mutt in the eye this time. The beast reared, and charged at Atala. My turn, she thought, and threw her knife. It went straight into the beast's open jaws. Two more knives came from behind her finishing the animal off. Atala heard a rustling as the little girl jumped down from the tree. The two girls looked at each other, realizing that now there were only two of them, and that they were now enemies once more. Amia slowly backed away, though she clutched a knife in her fist. Atala made a quick decision.
"Hey," she called to Amia. "Do you want to be allies?"
