13
I wasn't brave enough to look at my wound while I still had the ointment, but once I've packed up my supplies, I take a moment to inspect it. It doesn't look good. The edges are still swollen and red, and it's oozing thin, yellow pus. It hurts so much I almost can't feel anything else.
I'm not sure when it's going to rain again, so I do something maybe even stupider than throwing away the medicine, and pour some of my drinking water over it. At least that rinses off the pus.
I tie the strip of cloth from my pants around my arm below the wound to stop the ragged edges of my shirt from rubbing against it. Then I shove my jacket into my pack and keep following the hedge.
It quickly becomes my dullest day in the arena so far. The hedge seems to go on forever, never ending and never changing. The trees near the hedge are stubbornly short, and most are too thin to climb anyway. Even when I go farther into the woods and climb the biggest tree I can find, I can't see over the hedge.
There's another short rainstorm and I collect some more water. My shoulder stops oozing, which I hope is a good thing. I eat another piece of fruit. I've got four left, and five strips of beef. It should last me for a couple more days. The cannon sounds once in the morning, and twice mid-afternoon. I'm in the final ten. I wonder how long these Games will go on, and how much longer I'll be in them.
It's late afternoon when I notice the trees starting to thin. I pick up speed, thinking I've found some new part of the arena. Then I see glinting gold through the leaves and pull up short.
It's the Cornucopia. I've walked back to the field.
I stand there gaping like a fool, which is exactly how I feel. The hedge led me right back to where I started.
I want to throw myself on the ground and cry like a little kid. I feel like a little kid. How could I have been dumb enough to think I could just walk out of here? The Gamemakers have been designing this arena for a year. Maybe longer. They wouldn't just leave a door for us to walk out through. The hedge must surround the entire arena, just as tall and impenetrable as the part I've been staring at for the past day.
As far as I can see, I've got two options: go back into the forest, or try my luck in the mountain landscape.
I creep toward the field, keeping a sharp ear out for any other tributes. There doesn't seem to be anyone around.
At the edge of the forest, I peer across the field. The Cornucopia is intact, and I don't see any fire damage to the meadow.
I squint toward the mountain, but it's gone. Or at least, the snowcapped peak that's been my guide the last few days has disappeared. The mountain is charred black, and half of it is missing. Streaks of orange and red glow along its sides.
It wasn't just an earthquake. The mountain exploded. They made a volcano.
Well, that settles it. Without another glance at the mountain, I head back into the woods. At least I know how to survive in here. I'll try my luck in the forest and wait until it runs out.
I set up camp under some prickly bushes as soon as it starts getting dark. No point crashing through the woods with nine other tributes wandering around. I lay on my back, taking sips of water and slowly eating a strip of dried beef, trying to ignore the throbbing in my shoulder.
The sun goes down and the anthem plays. The death toll today includes a boy from Seven and Dolly and Beulah from Ten. I think of the two cannons I heard this afternoon. At least they died together. I wonder if that made it easier for their parents. Would it have been easier for mine, if Vernie and I were somehow in here together?
Before I can think about that too much, I close my eyes and let sleep ambush me.
Birdsong wakes me just before dawn. I watch as sunlight turns the leaves above my face gray, then yellow, and finally green. If I'm still alive tomorrow, it will have been exactly one week since I entered the arena. I'm almost used to living in a constant state of total boredom and abject terror. Every second could be my last, but I've still got to go through the dull motions of keeping myself alive.
I check my shoulder before climbing out of my sleeping bag. It doesn't look better than it did yesterday, but it doesn't look worse. I take a few sips of water and eat a piece of fruit before loading all of my supplies into my pack. It hurts to use my left arm now. I use it anyway, trying to ignore the pain and what it means.
Without the goal of finding the edge of the arena, I'm not exactly sure where to go. All I can think to do is head deeper into the woods, away from the Cornucopia. If the Careers have been on the mountain for the past few days, I'm hoping they'll be too wary of the forest to wander too far in.
As I walk, I try to figure out who else is left. Filigree and Brocade from One. Aetius and the other boy from Two. A girl from Four. The tall boy from Five. I think there's someone left from Six… or maybe it's Seven. With so many tributes, it's been tough to keep track, and I haven't been trying very hard. Then there's Maysilee and me. That's only nine of us, so I've forgotten someone.
I'm still trying to figure out who when I step into a clearing and come face to face with three other tributes.
It's Aetius, Brocade and the other boy from Two. They all look a little worse for wear, but they're just as massive as I remember. Brocade's long, blond hair is singed above his shoulders. The boy from Two whose name I can't remember has lost his shirt. Judging from the shiny pink splotches across his chest, I'd say it burned off. Aetius has a long burn down one arm, but it doesn't seem to be affecting his grip on his sword. All three of them are streaked with ash and sweat.
They look almost as surprised to see me as I am to see them. Aetius recovers first and gives me a slow, cruel smile.
"I've been looking forward to this."
I swallow hard, my jaw clenched. I honestly can't see how I'm going to make it out of this. Now that the moment has come, I don't have any jokes for the camera. A boring death seems to be out of the question, but I'm not going to give them anything I don't have to.
"Leave this one to me," Aetius commands the others.
I go for my knife. My fingers have barely closed around the handle when he's running at me.
He swings at my head, but I'm shorter than he thinks and I duck below his blade, slashing with my knife. I manage to nick him. He dances back with a grunt, his hand pressed against his side.
The other boy from Two lunges and I slice at his throat. He dodges, but I get my foot against his chest and shove as hard as I can. I wouldn't be strong enough to move him normally, but I hear the ridged sole of my boot slap against his healing burns. He cries out and topples backwards onto a clump of purple flowers.
An arrow whistles past my ear and I jerk to the side, turning to face Brocade, who's already reloaded his bow.
"He's mine, I said!" Aetius roars, but the other boy from Two lurches at me anyway. This time, I don't miss his throat.
The handle of my knife shudders as the blade cuts through flesh and tendons. Bright red blood spurts between the boy's fingers as he clutches at his neck, falling to his knees with a gurgle.
Aetius lunges again, his sword aimed at my stomach. I grab his wrist and use his momentum to deflect the blow. His fingers wrap around my arm and twist, flinging me to the ground.
I roll to my hands and knees as Aetius strides toward me, his face twisted with rage. He aims a kick at my ribs but I manage to dodge, then catch his ankle and force it up, throwing him on his back.
Something hard and metal forces my chin up as a knee slams into my back. I claw at my throat and my fingers grasp the arch of Brocade's bow. He jerks it back, closing my windpipe. My cry of pain turns into a breathless snort.
It takes all my strength to heave myself forward and drag the bow away from my throat. Brocade flies over my head, his boot connecting hard with my ear. I grab him by the hair, pull his head back, and slide my knife under his jaw. It's easier this time, and he dies without a sound.
Before I have time to look for Aetius, he's seized me by the back of the neck, the fingers of his other hand closing around my wrist. He twists until I'm forced to drop my knife, the joints in my hand screaming. I kick out blindly, trying to hit his legs. I don't connect, but I do manage to throw us both off balance. We topple to the ground in a tangle of limbs and snarls.
We roll across the soft earth, grunting as we try to damage each other as much as possible. Aetius is stronger, but I'm faster, and I'm doing anything I can to get away.
I'm on my back when Aetius' fist smashes into my face. I hear the crunch of my nose breaking right before pain hits me between the eyes. One of us screams, and I think it must be me.
I try to throw Aetius off, but he's too strong and we roll again, on top of Brocade's body this time. I can feel his hot blood soaking through the leg of my pants.
Aetius pries my hands off his jacket and tosses me away like I don't weigh a thing. I hit the ground with a painful thud, my ribs banging against a rock. I scramble to my knees, searching for my knife, but blood is coating my face, blinding me.
Aetius' fingers slide into my hair and he yanks my head back. I feel the cold, sharp edge of his sword against my neck and freeze.
"Well, I guess that's it," he murmurs. His blade bites into my throat. I try to take shallower breaths. "Thanks for all the laughs, kid."
I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the pain.
It doesn't come.
Aetius makes a choking sound and the edge of the sword drops from my throat. My head is jerked back as Aetius falls. I spin around in time to see him hit the ground, my scalp stinging where he tore some hair out on his way down.
I stagger to my feet, frantically wiping blood out of my eyes, trying to see the attacker.
Maysilee steps out from behind a tree.