I pierce a spear through the ugly head of the creature. At once, it seems to expire, however more of the species are appearing from the pond, sinisterly starting to wade over to me. I run. Faster than I have ever run before, and considering I was known in the district for being one of the fastest sprinters at the school's annual sports day, that is pretty darn fast. I am a significant way ahead of my attackers, but I cannot afford to stop and let myself catch a little air to feed to my collapsing lungs. My screams for help are becoming more and more strained, and my hope of escaping this terrible fate is disappearing before my eyes. The mutts are quick. Quicker than any sort of naturally conceived reptile could pace itself. Their snapping jaws and unpleasant grunts create a backing track to my dramatic attempt to escape.
Shadows dark head pops out from around one of the bushes at the opening of the swamp. When she sees the creatures, I swear her eyes pop out of their sockets a little. Unconcerned by my safety, she immediately starts off back to the camp, starting to shake and shout the boys away from their dreamlands and back in to our now very lethal reality. I have reached the entrance now, and the mutts are so close to my heels I can practically feel the vibration of their snapping jaws. By some stroke of brilliant luck, Noah is witnessing this from not so far off, and is able to send a cluster of arrows in to the bodies of the closest of the bunch. Either wounded or deceased, I am safely ahead of the creatures once more. I cannot stop though, not even for a moment, and my breathing is almost nonexistent. I feel like I am choking on the air, that it has suddenly became piousness and in-consumable. I know it has not, that this is all in my head, that it is just a panic attack on a much larger scale, but somehow this does nothing to calm me. As doesn't the encouraging words Noah is screaming at me from the cornucopia. "Run, Annie, run! You're almost there now!" The rest of the pack are already there. Sprawled out safely on the surface of the cornucopia, the very safe place I had departed from in order to avoid their thirst. I can feel the vague snipping of the muttains teeth at my ankles now, if I stop for a second, my lower leg will be torn to shreds. I am only a few feet from the others, a few feet away from safety, but I cannot go on. I collapse to the ground in a heap, crushing some of the creatures as I fall. But not enough of them. I feel their teeth rip in to my ankle, enduring me with an indescribable pain shooting up my left foot and calf muscle. In this moment, I am sure it is the end. I am sure that nothing more can be done, the venom of their bite enough to finish me off, enough to make me un-saveable. Even when Meeti begins tossing knife after knife in to the backs and bellies of the remaining mutts, slaying them all in a matter of seconds, I am not convinced that I will last the day. My ankle is throbbing and my limbs trembling. My mouth is as dry as sand paper, desperate for a drink of oxygen.
"Quick, get the first aid kit!" Meeti yells to a dumb-struck Shadow. Before I can completely regain consciousness of the situation, I find Noah and he crouched on the ground beside my injured my foot, first aid kit at their side. "Do you think she's gonna need stitches?" Meeti asks Noah, his voice strangely oozing with concern. "I'm not sure. It couldn't hurt…"
"I'm… fine." I mumble, sitting myself up to lean against the cornucopia. "Just… keep it… bandaged for a… while." I instruct, indicating at the roll of white cotton placed in the centre of the kit. Noah gently patches up my wound, and then helps Meeti as he hurls me back upright and lays me down on one of the grass mats. "Just rest for a while, okay? None of this is your fault." He whispers to me, grazing his chapped lips on my cheek. I decide I do not hate him any longer. "Okay." I manage to whisper back to him. I watch as he bounds off to where the others are coming to terms with what has just happened. I am surprised to see they all looked very concerned about the whole affair, until I realise the pond was our only water source, apart from the few bottles of water we had left. "For all we know, the game makers could have them come pack at the switch of a button." I hear Merlin groan irritably. "And we know they're pretty dangerous things…I mean, look at the state of Cresta." Shadow chips in, stealing a horrified glance in my direction. I must look even worse than I feel. A feverish heat seems to be seeping in to my skin and I feel light headed, as if I had just spun in circles until dizziness had consumed me. My bandaged ankle has now gone completely numb, but I can feel the rest of my burning limbs throbbing repeatedly. Growing increasingly worried about my well being, and more and more pessimistic about any possible recovery from this bite, I try to hurl myself upwards in to a sitting position, but find I am too weak to do so. A wave of panic attacks me once more, and the everlasting bucket of oxygen is being moved farther and farther from my reach. I gasp, like a fish out of water, desperate for somebody to put me back in to where I feel comfortable. Desperate to be back home.
"Annie, Annie, are you okay?" Noah hurries over to me, his hand resting on my scalding forehead. "She's burning up,
and fast. Oh my god…" He panics. "Breathe Annie, okay, just try and keep breathing for me now." He encourages, as if the very motion was possible with him freaking out in front of me.
"Maybe we should just kill her now, Meeti. It'll be easier for us and more peaceful for her. Its obvious she's not going to make it through the day." Shadow mutters, at least having the grace to seem a little horrified and ashamed at her own suggestion. I see Meeti in my outer vision considering this option, as if on cue, a small metallic parachute lands at Noah's feet. Before the others can claim it as their own, he unscrews the shoot from the small case attached to it. Inside is a small pot and a note. "It's from Finnick." Noah mumbles, handing me the line of tattooed paper.
Apply twice a day until healed. I won't let you die. F x
Before I can even begin to wonder what miracle Finnick had sent to postpone my death, Noah is massaging a cool, relieving cream on to my wound. It stings outrageously, but the cooling sensation afterwards makes the pain more than worth it. I struggle not to cry out, but the reward of the after effects of the cream is enough to motivate me to try and stay quiet. "Amazing." Noah breaths, obviously a astounded at the whole affair as I. Within minutes I am feeling a lot more steady headed and calm. My body temperature seems to have fallen dramatically and I am beginning to regain feeling in my foot, despite it being a rather painful sort of feeling.
Meeti instructs Shadow and Merlin to go collect berries from our bush, and to mush them and the remaining berries in to a juice as a supplement for water. Noah stays by my side, eager to assist me in any way possible. It's a little annoying, but of course I can't let him know that. His guiltiness and keenness to help is extremely sweet, and therefore outweighs the slight aggravation he is causing me. He had helped save my life, and not even for the first time, after all. So I allow him to speak to me in a soothing and rather patronizing tone, but I do not listen. Instead, I think of Finnick. I realize that since arriving in the arena, this is probably the first time I have allowed my thoughts of him to roam. So far, I have kept them so tightly under lock and key not even a hint of one could drift in to my mind without permission. But how could I not think of him now, when he had as good as just saved my life? Visions of his gleaming springtime eyes and his bronzed complexion waltz through my mind. Little things, the way his precise jaw jutted out slightly whenever he smiled, the sound of his sunny laughter and the feel of his touch, seem as familiar as they have ever been. But I find myself unable to imagine his tone, a portrait image of his body or the colour of the pants he wore almost every day, even to many important Capitol occasions. This angers me. Three days and he seems to be fading from my memory already. Seventy two hours and he is slowly loosening from my grip. From then on-wards, I promise myself to keep Finnick Odair as fresh in my mind as the springtime his eyes and nature reflected. If I do not, there doesn't seem to be much point of carrying on.
After this day, the antics of arena life becomes very uneventful, to say the least. Meeti decides there is no use to continue hunting the tributes down, not with so few of us left, so instead we spend our days lounged around the cornucopia, occasionally fleeing from the camp to catch some game and other edible recourses. Two days after the muttation attack, Merlin and Noah brave themselves, armed with numerous weapons, to go back to the pond in search for drinkable water. Fortunately, the creatures are nowhere to be seen, so the boys return with several baskets filled to the brim with purified water, not to mention handfuls of fresh gleaming silver fish.
The pack are considerate enough to leave me be for the most of the time. By the third day of applying Finnick's magic cream, the wound has almost completely healed, but for some reason I am still being treated as an injured party, something I am more than happy about, meaning I have an excuse to get out of doing particularly unpleasant chores. In fact, the only time I have been forced to move from my singular sleeping bag is to trudge down to the swamp with Shadow to bathe on the sixth day, it being our only source of water in our current knowledge.
Returning to a place that holds such traumatic memories is hard to say the least, but something about not travelling there alone, even if my companion is someone as self centered as Shadow, eases my nerves. In fact, I even find myself enjoying the feel of the silky water kissing my exposed skin once more. Feeling the moist skin of the fish against lap against my thighs and letting their familiar aroma waft through my nostrils. For the first time since the stargazing session, I feel comfortable and contented. I wish I could spend all of my remaining days here, spread flat out against the waters smooth surface, letting my thoughts and feelings dance freely, dreaming of returning home, of the prideful faces of my family and neighbors, of being with him. But of course, bathing in the pond for more than the sufficient length of time is a far too risky activity to carry out. At any moment, the mutts could make a sudden reappearance, and this time I might not be so lucky to escape. So instead of indulging myself in such a risk ridden luxury, I simply hike through the high grass that morning, cautiously following Shadows lead, and as soon we reach the pond, watch my companion strip off. I mean completely exposing herself, not just removing her combats and t-shirt, but her undergarments too, seeming completely unfazed by the fact that the whole of Panem had their own private viewing of her most private areas. Shadows body is slender but by no means childlike, unlike my own yet to blossom breasts and narrow waist. Her bosom rests comfortably on her ribcage, faded rose nipples positioned centrally. Her stomach is flat but her hips wide but unmistakably feminine. Thighs, upper arms and calves strong and firm, painted with a slight vague ripple of muscle. Her prominent collarbones collect the water falling for her elegant neckline. The only way to describe her magnificent physique is that it is the one of your typical desirable female victor.
I am a little more sheepish about undressing myself. I remove my clothing with no difficulty, but find myself standing awkwardly in my vest and underpants for a moment or two, wondering how to do this whilst maintaining as much modesty as possible. After careful deliberation, I hug my arms over my chest and begin to pull the vest over myself. When I reach my interlocked arms, I come across a problem, and am finally forced to expose myself. I lower myself in to the water steadily, still half in my vest and fully in my panties, I allow myself to remove the remains of the vest. I let myself sink deep enough not to give the audience a prominent view of my bust, as I slide off my water sodden panties. Shadow has almost finished bathing by this point, and I am certain she will not be reluctant to leave me to my own devices as soon as she has finished, so I quickly swim to the bank of the pond and lay my undergarments out to dry in the sunshine whilst I banish myself of grime and body odour. Shadow's clothing is all as dry and dirty as they had been before our trip, and she is beginning to hoist herself in to her garments piece by piece, as my vest and panties are still taking their time sunbathing. "Don't leave me, please." I find myself pleading to her. The expression that conquers her face is one of both glee at my dependence and annoyance of my cowardliness. Never less, she stays, bathing herself in the heavenly sunshine alongside my undergarments, in nothing but her own. In a way, the whole experience is sort of nice. Peaceful and calming, as if time has been frozen for a while and she and I are trapped in a lovely sunshiny haze. But of course, this is only me dreaming once more. Eventually my garments dry and I am forced to bare my naked body to the hidden cameras, unable to hide it under the safe depths of pond water, this time around. Shadow turns away awkwardly as I hoist my panties over my damp legs and veiled over my genitals. However, she cannot help but sneak a peek at my chest, two pathetic little mud holes in comparison to her mighty mountains. She stifles a laugh but not well enough, her mockery is far from disguised. Even when I'm staring death in the face, when I am in a place where survival is all that should matter to anyone, I am still being made to feel self consciousness of my lack womanhood. It just goes to show, something's never change, no matter what the circumstances. Girls still judge and prejudice other girls on something as trivial and unimportant as the size of their bust.
That night, as we all huddle round the fire, shoveling our mouths with exotic bird and a delicious minty shrub the boys came across whilst hunting for game, we hear the shot of the first cannon to be fired in days. The last death had seemed to be the one of the boy from five three days before, and the signalling of tragedy seems to bring us all back to reality. For the past couple of days, it hadn't seemed like we were taking part in the Hunger Games. In fact, things had become sort of bearable. We'd each settled in to our own individual routines, had gathered plenty of supplies and felt comfortable the chance of attack was very unlikely. And even if another group of remaining tributes had the nerve to take us on, we had more than enough confidence that we'd be able to defeat them. The whole affair had become like a sort of mediocre holiday from reality, and in fact, the reason for its mediocrity was simply because of the dull atmosphere the arena had seemed to of inhabited. The sound of that cannon reminds us all where we really are, that at any moment, the game makers could take us out and turn our worlds upside down all over again. Perhaps they had even killed this poor tribute to demonstrate this point. It all seems such a muddle, such an impossibly complex tangle of possibilities to me, I can't even force myself to bother working it all out. Instead, I just sit and bathe in the humid air, thinking thoughts of optimism to increase my mental and emotional strength. These thoughts mainly consist of a certain someone, of course. I spend what seems like hours, studying the memory of his beautiful facial features, determined to imprint them in to my mind forever. I allow myself to think of our future, even though I am still unsure as to if such a thing exists, even if somehow I do come out of this arena alive. The idea of us jumping to and from each others neighboring houses in the victors village excites me, the image of him spending the night holed up in my bedroom, rocking me and stroking my hair and face until I sail off to sleep. Maybe one day, if our love is destined to last, we'll live together fulltime and maybe even marry. Of course, after marriage comes the great probability of children, and I find the idea of becoming a mother a little too overwhelming and difficult to come to terms with in the height of my current youth, so I halt my dreams at marriage for the time being.
Once I begin thinking of Finnick I struggle to stop. In fact, it feels as though I spend the best part of the next forty eight hours lost in a world of extravagant dreams about the two of us. The others try to speak with me, but why should I converse with them? If I want any of this magical future to go ahead, I have to keep myself alive. And in order to keep my heart beating, there is a good chance I may have to stop the thumping of one my allies. I cannot deny they have become a sort of dysfunctional family to me, even the perverted Meeti, and I realise only now this is a family I must cut my ties with very soon. The death of whoever must have been taken out today will occupy the Capitol audiences for maybe a day or so, but soon the game makers will be looking to bring all us tributes together in a mighty battle, a battle which is destined to wipe out at least half of us. Any annual watcher of the game knows this, can see that the time for the games closure is fast approaching. I must cut my ties with them all, even dear Noah, and fast, if I have any chance of surviving the Hunger Games.
On the eighth day, together we are brought. I am woken by the panicked squeals of Shadow, who's been on guard for the past two nights, and a firm shoulder shake from Noah. "There's a fire. We have to move, quickly." He informs me, just as my eyes meet a waterfall of fierce orange flame heading for the cornucopia. He tugs my arm so hard I swear I can feel it come apart from my socket, but the wave of fire is becoming closer and closer to embracing us, so I decide it is not sensible to complain. Before I can get my bearings, I find myself hand in hand with Noah slightly behind the rest of the group, being chased through the jungle by the roaring fire. It is coming at us from all directions, only leaving a small path free from flames, an obvious indication that this was no coincidence, but the careful doing of mankind. Noah and I stumble down the path, coughing and spluttering the poisoned air from our fatigued lungs, after the others.
It seems like hours before we reach the lake. It is a little like the swamp but cleaner and larger, soft grainy sand replacing the high grass and the water a significant amount clearer. Pretty palm trees and faded lime reeds decorate the scene. An large, metallic dam has been built not to far away, however this the first time I have noticed its presence. Although for some reason, which could only be down to man intervened circumstances, rain had not sodden our camp, I was vaguely aware that the rainforest had had several downpours since our arrival, causing the need of the a gate to prevent severe flooding, I suppose.
On the other side of the river, stands the remaining tributes, seeming as equally injured and fatigued by the fire chase as ourselves. The anthem in the sky just hours before had confirmed that another tribute had fallen, the dark skinned boy from eleven. Now, we are face to face with the remaining. Antridothia, the girl from three, whom only now seems of enough importance to refer to by name, the small fierce eyed pre-teen female from six, Drodia, I remember her being called, and her district partner whom I can still not recall a name for. And the boy from seven, another nameless face but the most terrifying of the lot, as he was the district partner of my one and only kill. What if he had found out her death was my doing? What if he had an uncontainable thirst for vengeance? I squeeze my eyes tightly closed, escaping reality for one more moment, possibly for the very last time.
When I open them again, the battle has already begun. Merlin and Meeti are wading through the river, the water lapping at their waists, meeting up with the boys from six and seven. Immediately, Meeti tries to pierce a spear in to the boy from sixes skull, but the boy dodges and the spear falls in to the water instead. Quickly, the boy from seven retrieves the spear and stabs it violently in to Meeti's arm, injuring him profoundly, but not enough. As he roars in pain, Merlin captures the boy from six from behind and puts him in a suffocating headlock. Noah and Shadow rush into the lake, helping a now much more helpless Meeti, pin down the boy from seven on the bank of the lake. Antridothia and Drodia are interfering now, trying to wrestle my allies body off the boy from seven, biting and grabbing Meeti's hand as he goes to plunge a dagger in to the boys heart. It works. Meeti has no choice but to release the dagger, letting it float in to Antridothia's clutch. Violently, she stabs at Shadow and Noah's hands, until they have no choice but to let the boy be released as well.
Merlin still has his muscular arms wrapped tight around the neck of the boy from six, but with three members of their alliance still relatively unharmed, this victory does not look like it is destined to last for much longer. Meeti, Noah and Shadow are all bleeding vigorously, so Merlin's only hope of back up is my incapable self. I must try though, we are allies, after all. He's kept me alive this long, and for that, I should show my thanks. I grab for Shadows stack of bow and arrows that rests against a nearby palm tree, insert an arrow in to the wooden bow and aim for Antridothia's forehead. Being inexperienced with the weapon, I miss profoundly, but end up creating a rather significant wound on her forearm instead. It does the trick. She falls backwards in to the water at once, tugging vigorously at the insistent arrow now plated securely in her vein. Scarlet rain pours from the wound, temporarily blinding both her and the boy from seven. Little Drodia, clearly incapable of taking Merlin on by herself, quickly climbs to safety, hurling herself messily on to the river bank. The boy from six's neck is still positioned tightly in Merlin's grip. He gives me a quick wink in gratitude and begins his strangulation method once more. Within seconds, a cannon is fired.
Drodia falls to the ground on which she had previously been standing on. On her face, grief and distress is written in bold italics, as she gracefully mourns for her district partner. Antridothia is angry enough at this set back to manage to retrieve the bloody arrow from her insides and to throw it in my direction. I dodge swiftly, only just avoiding it puncturing my neckline. Aggravated by this, Noah swings for her, trapping her legs with his hands, Merlin wading over to back him up. The boy from seven is over to assist his ally like a shot, feebly stabbing at my teammates, preventing them from slicing Antridothia's throat with their swords. From the corner of my vision, I spy Meeti slaying the boy from eight, whom must of joined the party without his presence being detected. Small boned and pasty with a mop of overgrown curly hair, it's a great surprise the poor boy has even made it this far. I suspect he had hidden somewhere spectacularly secret and unexpected. Until the fire had driven him out of his private burrow and lead him to his death. I watch helplessly from the sidelines as Meeti stabs him repetitively, until a second cannon is fired.
Shadow is standing next to me on the careers side of the riverbank. Her hand and lower arm are mutilated severely, and try though she might, she cannot seem to stop the blood pouring out of her wounds. Bound together by our incapability, mine because of my non violent and cowardly nature, and her because of significant injury, we sit and watch our competitors take each other out. Meeti had joined Merlin and Noah in the battle between Antridothia and the boy from seven, Drodia still perched on the other side of the river bank, lost in a disoriented state of bereavement. If Shadow and I was up to it, we could take her out easily, but we are not, so we just sit and let her mourn in peace. A decision I would later come to regret enormously. Shadow rips a piece of the fabric from her rain coat, and wraps her injured arm in it, creating a make-shift sort of bandage. "I can't just sit here and do nothing." She mutters, hauling herself back up to assist the boys. I decide I must force myself to do the same.
I lower myself in to the river behind her, steadily swimming over to where Antridothia had escaped Noah's hold at the riverbank, and is now fighting Meeti off with a spear. Noah and Merlin are together trying to wrestle the sword the boy from seven has out of his clutch and in to their own, and Drodia is still weeping helplessly at the sidelines. I let my gaze lock on her for a second, that tear stained face and those disdained eyes, belonging to somebody that cannot be described as anything other than a child. I am certain she cannot be older than thirteen, just being introduced to the adventure of adolescence, only to have it taken away with a blink of an eye. Even if somehow she managed to take out the rest of us and became victorious, she'd never be able to get back the golden days of her stolen teenage hood. I am so transfixed by these somber thoughts, chasing each other recklessly around my brain, it takes me a while to be brought back in to focus and to realize that my observant is rummaging for something in a rucksack. Before I can even apprehend what is happening, she has pulled out a large axe from the sack and throwing it in to the boys from sevens open hands. I have been brought back from my daze and am now aware of my surroundings again, aware of Antridothia and Drodia yelling at their ally to kill my own and the panicked dodges of my friends trying to desperately avoid the swinging axe. Aware of Noah being caught off guard by the girls screams and not dodging quickly enough, sending the axe ripping through his throat,sending his head tumbling downwards in to the water.
Authors Note:
So Noah's dead guys!:(
I felt myself getting a little teary eyed whilst writing this chapter, its so sad! If I had complete control over how he could die, I would of possibly done it in a more sensitive and less gruesome way, but Susanne Collins specifically states that Annie's district partner is beheaded, and the last thing I want to do is drift away from the facts!
Just two more chapters to go now until Annie becomes victor...and is reunited with Finnick at last! I am so excited to write about their reunion and have some very unexpected plot twists up my sleeve for the oncoming chapters, so please keep reading and let me know what you think!
As always, reviews, advice and compliments are very much appreciated. I spend hours working on my writing, and though I enjoy it tremendously, it takes up at least two or three hours of my day per chapter, and knowing my work has been enjoyed really means an awful lot to me!
Keep reading and I love you all!:)
Lauren x