* Chapter Twelve *
I wring the water out of my shirt and pause my quick strides to empty it from my boots as well. Even in the shelter of the forest it's quickly becoming stiflingly hot, so I take my jacket off and fix it to hang over my backpack, giving it a chance to dry. I'm tempted to take my hair out and let that dry too, because it's dripping water down my back, but the tight bun hasn't loosened and I figure I should make the most of it.
There's a slight spring in my step as I scurry along; even though I'm on my guard and constantly scanning the forest ahead of me, almost unthinkingly flitting from tree to tree and keeping my footsteps practically silent; I'm back in the forest. I could almost pretend I was back home. More than that even, I have good supplies and - what do you know - I'm still alive! As far a first days in the Hunger Games arena goes, it's hasn't been bad and you could say I'm pleasantly surprised.
When I find a bush of blackberries, I can't help but smile. How knows how long my luck will last, but while it does, I'll make the most of it. I take a break to strip the bush of it's fruit and to add the required iodine drops to my water. I eat a few of the berries, but most I cram into one of the empty containers in my backpack. I'm sure there will come a time when I treasure every tiny morsel of food. When I'm finished I pack everything back into my bag and set off again.
I don't walk for very long. Judging by the position of the sun, I'd say for only a little over three hours. I had planned to walk further, but am forced to stop and consider my options as I reach a tall stony cliff. I've been vaguely aware that there's a sort of natural - if anything in this arena is natural - wall running along to my left. Though I haven't actually changed my course, it's been running distantly parallel to me for the last hour. Now however, as I had feared since I first became aware of it, I have run into the problem of it blocking my way. I pause to look up and see if I can somehow climb it, but the wall is almost completely flat and something tells me I wouldn't find much even if I did manage to reach the top. With a sigh I walk along the line of the wall, forced to curve back around until I'm fairly sure I'm walking back in the direction I've come. To stay under the cover of the trees, I walk about a hundred metres parallel from the wall, periodically veering closer to make sure I haven't lost it, before veering off again. I'm more on guard now, holding my spear tightly, my ears pricked.
It's another hour and a half before the trees begin to thin again. It's with a heavy heart that I confirm my suspicions. I'm back at the lake. This time however I'm at the end of it, closer to where I entered the arena, than where I swam across. Looks like my luck didn't last long at all. I wonder what Johanna's reaction is as I slowly make my way forward, staying in the trees for as long as possible, then grudgingly make my way to the edge of the meadow to peer towards the cornucopia. The golden horn gleams almost unnaturally bright in the sun and I have to squint to see any details past the glare. The first thing I notice is that the bodies are gone. They've likely already been picked up by the Capitol hovercraft to be placed in a tightly sealed, unmarked coffin and unceremoniously sent back to the districts. That's the only real perk about dying on the first day; you get home a lot sooner than the rest of us.
I chill goes down my spine and I grimly refocus on the meadow, there's a stack of bags and parcels near the mouth of the cornucopia, but there are still supplies scattered around it too; as if someone got bored halfway through collecting everything up. I see the girl from Four, and the two tributes from One: Marvel and Glimmer, setting up tents - one is fully erected, but they seem to be having trouble with the second - and from the tenor of their voices, I gather they're complaining, though I can't actually make out what they're saying. Next is Clove who is yelling at a small boy, who I'm very surprised to see amongst them. She's going off about finishing his job before trying to steal food, but I'm too shocked to do anything but stare. Why on earth would the Careers have left the scrawny boy from District Three alive?
I'm even more confused to spot Peeta and find he is digging a hole in the ground, and he doesn't look happy about it either. It must be hardworking in the blistering sun and it's not even the first hole, I can see three others. What the hell are they doing? I return my attention to Clove as she pulls out a knife and jabs it in Three's direction, snarling something I can't quite make out. He stumbles back nervously and scurries to help Peeta with his hole digging. I'm completely mystified as to what the point of the holes are, but alarm bells suddenly go off in my mind as I realise one very important person isn't accounted for.
Yeah, I most certainly ran out of that luck.
I sink into a crouch, adding the long grass to my camouflage and carefully scan the area. I don't see him at the shore of the lake, around the cornucopia, near any of the still scattered supplies or with any of the other Careers. Paranoia creeps up on me and I move to retreat further into the forest, when my instincts suddenly scream at me to freeze. I obey and am immediately glad that I do. A stick snaps loudly only ten metres or so to my left, but I don't turn to look, knowing any sort of movement will just draw attention to me. I wait, adrenaline and fear coursing through me, until finally the figure I least want to see crosses into my vision. I examine Cato as he storms through the outskirts of the forest in the direction of the cornucopia. He's taken his jacket off, and has two wicked looking knives strapped to his belt. He's carrying a large sword loosely in his hand and his expression is twisted into a dark glower. Inexplicably my eyes are drawn to the bandage tied tightly around his upper arm and an emotion that feels scarily like concern floats through me. I grimace and glance down at my own arms. I have purple and blue bruises in the exact same place on my skin; bruises that he gave me. A scowl crosses my face and I tighten my grip on my spear. His back is to me now, I could easily rise to my feet and throw the deadly weapon. It would impale him in the back; it would kill him; the cannon would sound and I would be gone before the Careers could even realise what happened.
I could take out my largest competition on day one. I could kill the monster that wants to kill me.
I silently rise to my feet and ready my spear. One throw. All I have to do is draw back my arm and release. It would be easy. Rule three: Kill or be killed Thorns. Heroes don't win the Hunger Games. I bare my teeth and draw back my arm, imagining a target on the back of the unsuspecting Career and visualising the path the spear will take. It's easy, his back is so broad and muscular, a much larger target than anyone else's in the arena. I focus and narrow my eyes, he's still striding away and I don't have much time before he's out of range. My arm muscles tense and my arm comes back and— nothing.
Come on Rose! Kill him!
I pull my arm back again and try to throw, but I don't. I can't.
Slowly my arm lowers and I stand there like an idiot staring at the back of Cato's head. It's at this instance that Cato's own instincts kick in and he whirls around. I freeze. I'm in the shadows, pressed to the side of the tree, the only way he could see me is by looking directly at me. He doesn't, and with an annoyed sort of growl he stomps off. He's out of range now and I sink back against the trunk of the tree and close my eyes.
"You idiot," I hiss between clenched teeth, hitting the back of my head against the tree. Johanna is going to be having a fit. I had a perfect opportunity and I let it slip through my bleedin' fingers.
I couldn't throw a spear at him. Not when his back was turned. Not when it was him that sent hours teaching me how. I especially couldn't do it after he inexplicably saved me in the bloodbath and let me run without putting up any sort of fight. Clenching my jaw hard, I turn back to watch as Cato strides across the grass towards the cornucopia. Seized by sudden need to be able to hear what is going on, I bolt along the tree line, following Cato's path until I'm pressed against one of the trees closest to where Clove is standing guard over the two 'prisoners'. I clamber up into the tree and edge out along one of the branches to get even closer; trusting the leaves, my camouflaged clothing and the Career's arrogance to keep me safe. It's my experience that people fail to look up anyway.
By the time I have settled in the tree Cato has reached his district partner and the other three Careers have noticed his arrival, though they don't move to approach. Cato ignores them and scowls over at Peeta and the boy from Three who are both eyeing him warily.
"Did we tell you to stop?" he snarls, "What have you been doing? It doesn't look like you've made any progress!"
"That's because Three over here has spent more time skulking near the food than digging," Clove informs him, her lips pulling into a mocking sneer, "We had a little chat though, didn't we?" Three glances at her and noticeably gulps, before nodding silently, "And will it happen again?" she continues with false sweetness.
The boy firmly shakes his head, "No, Clove."
"It better not!" Cato interrupts with a glare that makes me swallow thickly, "Because until we see proof that your little experiment works, you're an annoying and useless drain on our resources. Wastes of space make me angry and when I'm angry, I tend to get twitchy," his hand meaningfully grips the hilt of his sword, "You wouldn't like that."
I suddenly become aware that my hand has leapt to my neck and that my fingers are nervously brushing along the line of bruises and the marks he has left on my skin. I feel like my blood has run ice cold. The way he glared at that boy… he has never looked at me like that.
His voice has never been so tight with cool, uncaring, aggression and anger when he's spoken to me. There is no burn beneath his icy gaze, no smirk playing around his mouth and no growl in his clipped voice. The man in front of me is much different to any Cato I have seen before. And oddly enough… he scares me more than the other Cato.
With one last contemptuous sniff from Clove and a dark glare from Cato, the two Careers retreat a small distance away from the boys digging in the earth. I'm amused to note that as soon as they turn their backs Three pokes his tongue out and Peeta shoots them a disgusted sort of glance before moodily gazing into the trees. I freeze as he seems to look straight at me, but his eyes slide over the branch I'm perched on without pause, before he turns his attention back to his task.
Cato and Clove have actually moved closer to my hiding spot and so I can hear them clearly, despite the fact their voices are hushed. The glare vanishes from Clove's face and even Cato seems to relax slightly, the tension in his shoulders and the expression on his face loosening. I scowl as my body automatically relaxes in response and grip my spear tighter.
"Any sign of her?" Is Clove's first question.
"No," Cato growls, his tone conveying that he does not want to talk about it. Clove is either oblivious or chooses to ignore him, because she presses on.
"They're not happy with you, especially Marina. And I'm not especially pleased either Cato, you killed a member of our alliance!"
"I finished him off," Cato snorts, though his expression tightens again, "Saved him from a slow, painful death. His guts were falling out! It was mercy. I put an ally out of his misery."
"Bullshit," Clove hisses, "We all heard you yell at him! You killed him because he nearly killed her!"
"He didn't fall on his own knife," Cato growls back, taking a menacing step forward, his expression black, "She stabbed him. He didn't nearly do anything!"
"Aw," Clove coos, her dark eyes flashing mockingly, "Now you're defending her abilities too? Aren't you just the sweetest!"
Cato's entire body tenses and for a moment I think he's going to throttle his own district partner, but instead he just snarls back, "Four was dead one way or the other, I just made it quicker. What matters is that Lover Boy has given us jack-shit about Bitch-on-Fire; the midget from Three is likely to blow us sky-high; One is pissing me off; and the only other tributes who got close to our training scores are still alive and got away with supplies—"
Clove lets out a dark laugh, "And who might these supposed rivals be?"
"Eleven and Seven," Cato growls back through clenched teeth.
"Please!" Clove snickers, her eyes shining with twisted mirth, "Eleven's pathetic and the boy from Seven is a total idiot, what threat could they possibly-"
"Clove!" Cato snarls threateningly.
"What?" she asks, painting an innocent expression on her face.
"You know I meant Thresh and the girl from Seven-"
"The girl from Seven?" Clove repeats with a fake gasp, "You mean the one that called you an 'arrogant, cowardly arse' in training? The one that practically told you to 'fuck off' on live television? The one who you haven't taken your eyes off all week? The one that had you almost permanently confined to a cold shower—"
I'm not at all surprised when Cato leaps at Clove with a roar, though I try to keep my expression completely blank. I am rather shocked that a lot of their conversation subtly hinted at me and even more shocked to learn that Cato killed the boy from Four. I didn't think the injury I gave him was too bad, but clearly it was worse than I thought. Instead of being disturbed by the fact that Cato killed the boy for nearly killing me (I'm not so delusional to believe that I won easily) I'm strangely numb. I'd seen him kill two others and I'd barely considered that either. I'm in shock I rationalise with growing discontentment, it just hasn't sunk in yet. Instead of being disturbed, my brain dazedly clings to Clove's words, registering that the latter parts might be considered a compliment… you know if we weren't in the middle of the fucking Hunger Games… I forcefully shake my head to try and clear those thoughts out of it and focus back on the wrestling Careers. Clove is laughing her head off and still throwing pointed remarks at him as she squirms, somehow managing to avoid being pinned to the ground.
"What are you going to do here? These pants are rather tight… I suppose the lake might be cold enough."
"Hope you're not turned on by sweat, tangled hair, dirty skin and trashed clothes!"
"Good thing there aren't any elevators around here!"
It's the last comment that finally breaks through my barrier and I squeeze my eyes shut and tuck my head in my hands, wishing with all my heart that I hadn't climbed the tree. It would be much easier to make a tactical and unnoticed retreat if I wasn't stuck in a tree while they fought on the ground only mere metres away. Why the fuck would he tell her what happened in the elevator? Lucky for me, Clove's comments inflame Cato too and he finally succeeds in pinning his district partner to the ground, lying practically on top of her to keep her still.
"You should be careful Cato," she says calming down and looking at him seriously for a moment, then the devilish smirk reappears, "She strikes me as the jealous type, I doubt lying on top of another woman is the way into her—"
Cato slaps a hand over her mouth, "Shut up Clove," he hisses, "You know it's not like that! We pegged her as a threat from the start and we all know you suck at making friends—" He lets out a little grunt and wrenches his hand away from Clove's mouth, scowling, "I can handle you licking my hand, but biting is where I draw the line," he mutters and I actually snort quietly, my hand flying to the marks on my neck again, despite the fact that I'm reeling from his words.
Clove ignores him, though all trace of laughter has vanished, "That bullshit might have worked on Enobaria and Titan, Cato, and you can even try and delude yourself if you want," she pauses, looking up at him calculatingly, "Probably better that way anyway, considering we could all be dead in days - but I know you far too well for you to use the same excuses on me."
"What? You think I actually care about her?" Cato hisses, making a sharp pain shoot through my chest that I studiously ignore, keeping my features an uncaring mask of indifference and boredom, despite the fact I hang onto every agonising word. It's like watching a tree fall the wrong way; you can't look away from the disaster, no matter how much you want to, "I was trying to get into her head," he continues in a dark growl, "Figure out what makes her so damn confident, convince her to join the pack, or at least find out what her weakness are—"
Clove scoffs in his face, but his words make me sad. So damn confident… if only I actually felt as confident as I act. In a small way his words comfort me, my facade is obviously believable, but mostly they bring back the sting of old hurts, poking barely healed scars that I desperately hide beneath my bravado.
"If you ask me it's her that's got in your head! Who are you trying to convince?" Clove jeers, "Me? Our mentors? Everyone back home? Or yourself?" When he doesn't immediately answer - or move at all actually - Clove makes a noise of disgust, "Get the hell off me you prick, someone needs to go and tell the idiots you insisted we ally with that they need to peg the tent to the ground before they stick the poles in! They've been at it for an hour and all they've done is moan and cover it in dirt! We need to finish building the supplies into a pyramid, in case Three's mental idea actually works!" She succeeds in shoving him off her and gets quickly to her feet, but hesitates before actually walking away, "Just remember Cato… only one person can win the Hunger Games. And even then…"
A scowl crosses her face and she turns on her heel, leaving Cato frozen in the position she left him. I can't explain the overwhelming sadness that is coursing through my body, it's too strong for me to ignore and I don't try very hard to repress it. You can't stop a tree from falling the wrong way once it starts, you can only accept and try to minimise the damage. I stare down at Cato for the minute or two it takes him to move again. I can't see his face, but the set of his shoulders makes me think that he's trying to repress the wave of emotions I've chosen to ride out. When he finally stands up and strides purposefully over to the other Careers with a one part scathing and two parts threatening look at the two non-Careers - who are still inexplicably digging in the dirt - I'm slightly surprised by how composed he looks. He still looks as though he could lose it at any moment of course… but that's just who Cato is. I tense so violently that I almost drop my spear out of the tree, very disturbed by the tone of my thoughts. If I had spoken them aloud, they would have sounded… accepting, with even a touch of something that was scarily close to loving. As if his unpredictable anger is an endearing flaw in a friend that is more amusing than anything else.
I climb down from the tree quickly and silently, before randomly setting off in a direction. I'm passed caring at this point, I don't care where I go, so long as it's far, far away from him. Trying to get in my head, huh? Well you damn well succeeded! I know I should be angry, furious even, but all I can feel at the moment is a strange sort of numbing sadness. Damn him.
"Remember the rules Rose," I mutter to myself harshly, "You've not been in here a day and you've already broken more than one," I scowl at the thought and walk faster, "Heroes don't win the Hunger Games," I remind myself, and with a deepening scowl I add, "He's just like Wren… he deserves to die."
I halt and with an angry grunt stab the spear viciously into the ground. If only it was Wren in this arena with me. Killing him would be easy. I might even enjoy it. My hand goes to my neck again and I wish that I'd gotten the chance to look in a mirror at some point this morning. It annoys me that I can't see the marks, while they're no doubt blatantly obvious to every single person that looks at me. With a snort, I lift my left wrist and examine the scar that is only centimetres away from the artery. I can see this one and for some reason it makes me feel smug. He missed. Still… the fact that I bear the mark of another boy who wanted me to lie on my back and spread my legs irritates me. Another tramp stamp.
"Too bad Wren," I find myself saying darkly, staring up at where I imagine a camera would be, "I'd have loved the opportunity to kill you. Your daddy wouldn't be able to protect you in here."
I seize the spear up and stride on. This time however I pay more attention to my surroundings. It wouldn't do for someone to sneak up on me and slit my throat while I wander around in a huff. When I find a suitable tree I climb it swiftly, until the branches I'm balanced on start to tremble under my weight. I cling to the trunk with expertise only born from years of experience and carefully examine the arena again. I've walked off at a diagonal from the cornucopia, putting the lake to my back and going in almost the complete opposite direction to the patch of forest I had walked in for most of the early afternoon. I'm high enough that I can see the shape of the lake clearly, as well as the fact that the rocky wall curves in a way that was probably designed to do exactly what it did to me. Force tributes back towards the cornucopia. With an annoyed huff I carefully turn to examine the rest of the forest. It stretches for as far as I can see. With another turn I examine the cliff. It's more of a rocky and slightly perilous looking incline, perhaps possible to climb down, but probably risky due to the loose rock. The lake spills over the side of it at one point and I can see that there's a sort of marshy swamp down there, along with a huge field of some sort of crop. I deduce that it is probably a type of grain and wonder if that's where Thresh ran to. I'm rather conflicted as I stare around the arena. The forest is mine; I was born surrounded by trees; I know trees, but that's where I saw every single other tribute run. I didn't see anybody head for the cliff and I know I was the only person to cross the lake to the much smaller section of trees. Ideally, I would find somewhere to hole up for a few days. Wait for the competition to thin out, try and acquire a weapon more suited to my talents. I scowl at the spear, wishing I'd been able to hold onto the knife I'd had. Hand to hand combat and spears don't really mix. A knife or some sort or an axe, that's what I wanted. I got a stupid spear. A bloody stupid spear, that reminds me of bloody stupid Cato every time I look at it.
Still, I suppose it's better than nothing.
I climb back down the tree, and take my sunglasses off. I'm very aware that the sun is sinking low in the sky, I have no need of them now, what I do need is a place to sleep. I sigh slightly and begin walking again, looking for a suitable tree. After twenty minutes I find one that I'm very happy with. It's going to be a little tricky to climb - even for me - which tells me that most tributes won't have a chance in hell of reaching me up there and there's a wide, rather flat branch about thirty feet up that looks perfect for sleeping on. First of all however, I want to ensure that no other tributes are nearby and maybe catch myself some food.
I slip soundlessly around the tree then melt silently into the shadows of one a few metres away, sinking gracefully to a crouch. I've always been gifted with soundless movement, especially in the forest. If I didn't want to be found, it was very hard for anyone back home to find me. Much of my childhood was spent practicing sneaking up on people, constantly giving my elder siblings and parents the slip, stealing the odd piece of fruit or other item from stalls on market day, and more-so noticing the way most people walked in the middle of the path. When they were going about their daily lives, not thinking about their movements, human's walked in the light, avoiding the shadows. I discovered it was amazing how few people even noticed me when I was standing, completely still in the shade of a building, was pressed to the side of a tree or sitting in a dim corner. My skill was one that was self-taught for the most part. I've never liked being the centre of attention. I've always preferred to look and listen, it's amazing the things you learn when people don't know or don't expect you to be there. Fletcher, my second eldest brother, had always been rather good at sneaking around when he wanted to as well, using his skill to slip out at night and meet up with friends or girls and to pull practical jokes. He was also the only person who'd ever caught me watching when I didn't want to be seen. After the first time, and the following discussion, he'd sometimes actively look for me. On occasion he'd spot me and wink, on others he'd give up. The funniest times would be when I'd catch him calculatingly peering up into the trees, staring particularly hard at a bush or suspiciously eyeing a shady corner, only to sneak up behind him and tap him on the shoulder or whisper something in his ear. His reactions were always priceless.
I stayed absolutely still for a solid ten minutes, my ears pricked for any sound and my eyes the only thing that moved as I scanned the forest for any unnatural movement. The wildlife that I'd been aware of all day, having clearly seen squirrels, rabbits, birds and even the occasional glimpse of a deer before the animals bolted, appeared to be the only life around. So after ten minutes of resilience, ignoring the tree root jabbing into my thigh, the cramp in my left leg and the itch on the tip of my nose, I smoothly brought up my arm and hurled my spear at a rather large and fat rabbit that had dawdled near my hiding spot for much too long. The spear caught the creature right in the head, just as I'd intended and I silently stand and go to collect it.
I'd like to think that I prove Marcella dressed me fittingly and that I melt from the shadows like a dryad , but I've never seen myself so I don't know and I doubt I'm graceful enough anyway. It's too late to set up a fire to cook the rabbit today, but by the fading light, I determinedly have a go at skinning the animal with my spear. I've had little practice and never been the best at it even with a knife, so it's not a very good job, but it'll do. I retreat a few minutes away from where I plan to sleep to bury the parts I won't eat and to wipe my spear on some moss that I find. By the time I have stowed the uncooked meat in my larger container, climbed the tree and sorted out my sleeping bag, the sun is beginning to set and the temperature starts to noticeably drop. I put on my jacket again, grateful that it has dried completely in the heat of the day and rummage in my bag to bring out my water bottle and some food. I decide to allow myself four crackers, a strip of dried meat and a small handful of blackberries. From what I have seen of the forest, I should be able to find food. Sure there is a disappointing lack of pine trees, but I still recognise most of the smaller plants along the floor of the forest. I'll be able to find edible roots, fruit and maybe even nuts without too much difficulty and I've proven that even with only a spear I can catch rabbits at least.
I am just washing down my dinner with a few controlled sips of water when the sky lights up when the first notes of the anthem boom through the arena. I tense immediately. I've been avoiding thinking about this moment all day. Especially since I learnt that the boy from Four is dead and that I as good as killed him. The girl from Three is the first to appear - not at all surprising as I've seen both from One and Two and the boy from Three since the cannons fired - and guilt begins to gnaw at me as I realise I'm to blame for her death too. The nausea builds as her face transitions to the boy from Four. I stare mutely up at his face and wonder if the replay of his death shows me wrestling with him, or just Cato finishing him off. I suppose it doesn't matter. The boy's green eyes seem to bore into me and unbidden my mouth opens, and two words fall out.
"I'm sorry."
The words are a whisper. They don't hold any grief or guilt, or much emotion at all really. The numbness has returned and I watch with detached interest as the faces continue to appear. It's with relief that the girl from Six melts straight into the boy from Eight. I'm not surprised though. Linden was right next to the forest and with that sort of advantage, he wouldn't risk entering the bloodbath.
It's with genuine sadness that I see the tiny girl from Eleven didn't make it.
Rue, the girl who took Cato's knife, the one I took the fall for. With the seven she got in training, I'd hoped she would last longer than she did. Her face is the last one that appears in the sky, but I keep looking up even as night falls. Darkness closes in with unnatural speed and within minutes it could be the middle of the night. Rue's death has caused a weariness to seep into my bones, it's the same weariness that I saw in Hillier's eyes. She was twelve years old. A child with a bright future ahead of her. Someone much too innocent, much too sweet and much too good to be caught up in these games. I remember the smile on her face as she balanced above everyone's heads and the quick intelligence in her eyes as she realised what I wanted. I remember how the conversation we had buoyed me with hope that not everything in the world was contaminated and corrupt. The genuine awe she had for my interview dress and the way her face lit up when I told her she looked beautiful too. I shake my head slowly and find that a few tears are dripping down my cheeks,
"No," I whisper up at the sky, "No… I'm so sorry Rue."
It takes me a long moment to control my voice and I angrily swipe the tears off my cheeks. I want to say a proper goodbye to the little girl who flew through the rope's course, loved her younger brothers and sisters, wanted a beautiful dress for her interview and loved any sort of music.
"I hope there's lots of music… and trees to climb… and pretty dresses… and …knives to steal…" I murmur eventually, swallowing a lump in my throat, "wherever you are Rue, I hope you're happy and safe and that-" my voice cracks and I lift a shaking hand to my mouth to try and hold back my sob, "and that you know how much your family, and your district, and anyone who knew you, is going to miss you."
I kiss my hand and blow it up to the sky, miserably watching as it darkens with unnatural quickness. It's at least ten minutes before I finally tear my gaze away from the sky and shove the water bottle back into my backpack. I zip it closed and shove it into the bottom of my sleeping bag, before getting in myself.
I'm just carefully positioning my spear against the trunk of the tree, so it won't fall during the night, when I hear them. Voices. I shift quickly so I'm flat against the branch of the tree, my spear held tightly as I curse the orange strips on my sleeping bag. I position myself so that my body covers as much of the bright colour as possible, then freeze. The Careers are actually further off than I thought, they are hooting with laugher and jeering loudly, which is the reason I heard them so easily. It takes at least a full five minutes before I actually see them. Cato is unmistakably in the lead with the slim figure of Clove being only half a pace behind him. It's not them making the noise, it's the girl from Four - Marina as I learnt her name was - and Marvel, who I've always had pegged for an egotistical idiot. Cato might be arrogant, but he actually has got reason to be, and he's far from being stupid. Peeta walks behind the two loud ones, with Glimmer bringing up the rear a long knife held openly in her hand and her eyes fixed on Peeta's back. The boy from Three is nowhere to be seen so I assume they've left him behind. Marvel, Marina and Glimmer all carry torches, which strikes me as rather unusual until I catch sight of Clove's face in Marina's light. She's wearing some sort of black glasses that I assume allow her to see in the dark and I'd put money on Cato wearing a pair too.
"If you don't shut your mouth right now District One," Clove snarls, spinning around, a throwing dagger clasped in her hand, effectively bringing the pack to a stop directly under my tree, "This is going through your throat. Get that light out of my face Four!" she adds, taking a menacing step towards the girl, who hurriedly averts her flashlight.
"How do you expect to find anyone with all the noise you're making?" Glimmer speaks up over the top of Marvel's protests, shooting an irritated glance at her district partner, "If you've got so much energy come guard Twelve." She pushes passed Peeta and shoves the knife into Marvel's hand, "Try not to trip," she says sweetly.
"Why?" Marvel asks with a cocky smirk, "Would you miss me Glimmer?"
She shoots him a disgusted look, but it's Cato who speaks, his voice icy cold, "How many times does she have to tell you she's not interested before it gets through your thick skull One? Shut your mouth and get to the back or I'll let Clove shoot."
His district partner shoots him a filthy look, as do I. The hypocrisy in his statement is blatantly obvious to me, though I wonder if I managed to look quite so intimidating and disgusted as Glimmer did. "Let me shoot?" Clove spits at him, "Do I have to remind you again that I'm not a dog, nor am I one of the spineless sluts that you order round. I'd like to see you try and stop me!"
Cato looks mildly irritated, but doesn't fly into a rage like I expected. I wonder how long he and Clove have known each other, because I'm fairly sure if anyone else said half the things I've overheard her say to him, they'd be dead, "All of you, keep your mouths shut and point your torches at the ground. Lover Boy said Girl-on-Fire went this way."
"I still say we should be looking for Eleven or Seven," Glimmer speaks, rather bravely in my opinion, until I realise she's talking about me, "They're bigger threats."
"Twelve got the highest training score," Marina pipes up, sounding annoyed, "That makes her the biggest threat!"
"She barely left edible plants, snares and rope tying," Glimmer snorts, "What's she going to do? Lasso us? Tree-Girl looked much more dangerous in training, she got a ten and she killed Bien!"
"Two killed Bien," Marina snarls, all traces of the overly-bubbly girl from training vanishing beneath a murderous glare she directs at Cato, "The only reason Tree-Rat got a ten is because they wanted her and Cato to have the same scores to amp up the sexual tension. This is a television show, remember?"
The condescending tone in Four's voice makes me annoyed, despite the fact her underestimating me can only be a good thing, so I'm not surprised when Glimmer's face flushes with fury and her hand twitches for the sword at her hip. It's at this point that Clove speaks up however, and I'm mildly shocked by the cold logic she uses, "We have no idea where Tree-Girl went, nobody saw her, the only reason we know it was her that got Bien is because he told us. Same with Eleven, he could be anywhere! We know Bitch-on-Fire went this way and she's a threat, same as them, that's why we're walking in this bloody direction! Now shut up and move!"
It's Marina that she snarls the last part at, despite it being Glimmer who wanted to hunt me down instead of the girl from Twelve. My eyes are on Cato though, so I miss their reactions and expressions. He saw me leave the cornucopia… why wouldn't he tell anyone where I went? Not that it would matter, seeing as I'm nowhere near where I was, but still…
"We're wasting time," he growls.
Clove nods her agreement, "Let's go. The next person that speaks gets a knife in their foot."
I stay motionless as they move away. Despite the fact they're much quieter than before, all of them are clearly not used to walking through the forest and their footsteps alone would be loud enough to warn me, Linden and anyone else familiar with the environment of their approach. I'm glad of this, because despite my best efforts, my district partner has grown on me. I smirk slightly as I realise he's probably sleeping up a tree the same as I am. When I can no longer see the Career's flashlights between the trees or hear their movements, I relax and go back to organising my things so I can try and get some sleep. I doubt the Careers will be back any time soon.
It's definitely not the first time I've slept in a tree and the woody smell is extremely comforting as I settle down for the night. Anything familiar is welcome at this point. I turn my face into my shoulder and rest my head on the trunk of the tree, curling my feet up beneath me. One hand clutches the sleeping bag up to my chin as I d my best to huddle my shoulders into it. The other hand grips my spear. I might be prepared to sleep, high off the ground in the familiar safety of a tree, but I sure as hell am not letting my guard down. The Gamemakers clearly aren't going to make anything easy for us either if the trend continues: sweltering hot days and near freezing nights will be the end of some tributes, I'm sure of it. I'm also determined not to be one of them and my grip tightens around my spear.
Arrogance is the quickest way to die in the Hunger Games. I remind myself as I let my eyes close and my body relax, surrendering to the exhaustion of fear.
Wow it's been a long time since I updated... sorry about that!
This chapter was really hard to write and I'm still not entirely happy with it. I think it's definitely the first major deviation from the original storyline that I've taken and I promise that I really didn't want to kill Rue, it just became inevitable! :'(
Please let me know what you think and I'll try and get the next chapter out soon! Reviews are great motivation! ;)
-xx
