The morning was still clear and cool when we set off toward the east again, chewing some dried beef as we went. The sagebrush thinned as we progressed, to my relief. I'd begun to feel like I was covering as much lateral distance from skirting shrubs as distance toward Glint.
"It's better than all those cacti to the south," Memorie said when I expressed that sentiment to her. "At least these bushes just scratch you a little."
I huffed a little sigh, wishing she'd stop looking on the bright side for once. I was tense, my body preparing for the upcoming fight, and trying to rein in the excess energy made me short-tempered. The sooner we reached Glint, the happier I'd be.
When I thought we had to be getting close, I removed the spear I'd salvaged from its place across my shoulders, gripping it in my left hand and the sword in my right. I had to force myself not to clench my hands around the weapons too tightly. I wasn't nervous. It was just…Memorie looked so much like Chenille, and Glint was insane.
And we found him. Glint. I honestly hadn't thought we would, after so much futile tracking.
He sat on the sand, his back to us, golden hair shining in the sunlight. Apparently he sensed that he wasn't alone, because he got to his feet in one graceful motion, obviously strengthened by the near-invisible body armor he wore. He stared at us, seeming unsurprised.
I lowered Memorie to the ground, quickly followed by our many packs. "Got that knife?" I asked, too softly for Glint to hear. She nodded, eyes wide.
I took a step toward him, readying my spear to throw. That was a mistake, as it turned out.
"Chenille?" Glint's voice was unrecognizable. His cool, courteous tones had been replaced with something hunted and rough. Eyes fixed on Memorie, who he'd first glimpsed when I moved forward, he stretched out a hand.
Even with my back to her, I felt her flinch. "Hey," I called, my own voice harsher than usual. "This isn't Chenille. What's wrong with you, One?"
He growled at me, looking utterly inhuman as his lips drew back from his teeth. "You killed her!" he raged, hands curving into claws. I saw the force field shimmer around him as he moved, reminding me I'd have to target the chinks in his armor to do any damage.
He moved closer and I gripped the spear tighter, deciding against throwing it. It would be to easy to miss the tiny, ever-shifting gaps in the armor from this distance. I'd have to engage him directly. I walked toward him, ignoring Memorie's sharp hiss of disapproval. I didn't want Glint getting any closer to her than he already had.
"I haven't even seen Chenille since the first day of the Games," I replied, no longer needing to speak loudly. Only a few yards separated us, and I wondered for a moment if he planned to attack me barehanded. Then he reached over his shoulder, and when his hand reappeared, it held a silver battle-axe half as long as my spear.
Well, crap.
I leaped forward, aiming for his neck with my spear and leaving the sword angled protectively across my body.
Faster than I'd thought possible, he batted the spear away with his arm, simultaneously bearing down toward my skull with the axe. Right, the armor. It'll make him stronger, not just harder to hurt.
Glint caught sight of Memorie again, and tried to walk around me to get to her, seeming to forget about my weapons entirely. I planted a foot in his stomach, sending him reeling backward in spite of his armor. That made him remember me.
I feinted toward his neck with the spear a second time, took advantage of his distraction with parrying by stabbing down with my sword. The point slid into the invisible gap where the suit's boot met the force field over his leg, opening a red line on his lower shin.
He didn't react. I was reminded of the worm mutt, which hadn't seemed to feel pain either. If Glint was that far gone, his madness might help him in this fight, making him fearless. Just my luck.
Glint lunged, raising his axe over his head with both hands and bringing it whistling down with enough force to cut me in half. Throwing myself to the ground on his left, I almost laughed to hear the blade thunk into the sand. He growled a curse and wrenched the axe free, but not before I slid the point of my spear into the shoulder joint of his armor, leaving another spreading patch of blood.
Still no visible reaction to the pain. We circled each other, keeping a wary distance. I noticed we'd edged closer to Memorie and immediately imposed my body between hers and Glint's. Unfortunately, that allowed Glint to face her, and he screamed something that might have been his dead partner's name, hurling himself bodily at me and sending us crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
When he tried to crawl over me to reach Memorie, I braced both my arms against his chest and shoved, straining to push him back without leverage in my favor. All our weapons were pinned between us; I could feel the haft of my spear and the handle of his axe digging into my ribs. After several breathless moments, I widened the gap enough to bring my knee up to my stomach and send Glint careening backwards with all the muscles in my thigh.
Scrambling to my feet, I grabbed his axe in both hands and flung it as far into the desert as I could. Then I extracted my weapons from the sand – just in time, too, since my enemy was on his feet. He charged me with an incoherent yell, not seeming to care that his axe had disappeared.
I drove my spear toward his chest, using it as a diversion for my true target, the joint between his thigh and torso shields. My sword struck home, and I knew that I'd severed a major artery from the quantity of thick, hot blood running from the wound.
The spear was yanked from my hands in my moment of exultation. Glint snapped the wood between his hands, and I retreated hastily, covering myself with the sword. Before I could regroup, Glint charged, one half of my spear in each hand.
I managed to dodge one, but the other, the one with the metal point attached, sketched a line of searing pain across my stomach.
I gasped in shock and pain, barely getting out of the way of a second attack.
Pressing my empty hand to my abdomen, I encountered wetness. When I drew the hand way, it was smeared with blood.
It didn't matter, though. I had to make it not matter for a few more minutes, the time it would take Glint to die of blood loss. And so we circled again, slower now because we were both hurt. When I was facing Memorie, I glimpsed her stricken expression and flashed her a reassuring smile.
Glint leapt toward me again and I danced away, stifling a cry of agony as more of my skin split with the movement, widening the wound across my stomach. I felt a little dizzy, but still had the presence of mind to stagger away from Glint, not toward him.
He wasn't too steady on his feet either, I noticed. As if in response to my thought, he dropped to his knees and didn't try to get back up. Blood was soaking into the sand around his knees, and I knew I'd won.
I kept my feet while he died, refusing to bend my pride enough to let him see me weaken. After a small eternity, he collapsed forward onto the ground. I braced myself with my sword, waiting.
His cannon fired, and I dropped to the ground like it had been a gunshot.
Memorie was at my side faster than I would have thought possible. She carried the first aid kit, and I felt myself shaking my head. I knew what I needed for this wound, and it wasn't in the basic kit we'd found.
Still, it was good thinking on Memorie's part that she removed what bandages we had left and placed them against my stomach, applying pressure to slow the bleeding. I hissed in pain and she looked like she was panicking.
"Hey," I said, secretly alarmed at how faint my voice sounded. "It's okay, just keep those there. This is going to need stitches, but I don't think we have needle and thread." I knew we didn't.
She bit her bottom lip so hard it started to bleed.
"Get the armor," I reminded her, and she turned to Glint's corpse as if happy to look away from me. In a few minutes, she returned, holding an armful of what resembled thick silver bracelets.
And then the most wonderful thing happened. I hadn't even considered it a possibility since these Games began and I strayed so dramatically from my original plan.
A silver parachute floated down from the painfully bright sky, coming to rest lightly on my legs. Memorie gasped, snatching it up instantly. I watched as she opened the container it carried and withdrew something small. A needle and thread, medical grade. And with them, a slip of white paper. I accepted both with trembling hands.
"Don't die now, idiot girl," I read, then had to choke back the laugh that wanted to bubble out because I knew it wouldn't help the gash in my stomach. My mentor, my wonderful, perfect mentor had done the impossible. He had gotten me enough sponsors – in spite of the collection of stupid things I'd done in the last week – to send me this incredibly expensive gift.
"Thank you, Varius," I breathed, hoping some camera somewhere had recorded my words and sent them to the Capitol viewing room where my mentor sat.
"What are you supposed to do with that?" Memorie asked indignantly, bringing me back to earth. "Just…just sew yourself shut? Right here, in the middle of this desert?" I wasn't sure if I was imagining things, but I could've sworn there was a tiny pause before the word desert into which she'd wanted to insert some awful profanity.
"Unless you see a medical center around here, yes," I replied, bemused. I propped myself up on my elbows, painfully gathering the fabric of my shirt over my ribs so the wound would be accessible. I tore the sterile packet of thread open with my teeth, forcing my hands still so I could thread the needle. Beside me, Memorie made a soft sound of protest.
"This is barbaric," she said, her voice barely audible.
"You don't have to watch," I informed her acerbically. After all, I was the one giving myself stitches; I wasn't in the mood to coddle her.
"No, it's not that," she replied hurriedly. "I'll watch. I can even do it, if you want. I don't have experience, though, and I'm guessing you do." It was a question, despite her lack of inflection.
"Yeah, we covered emergency medical procedure a couple times," I said wryly, not really caring if the Capitol was being forced to censor our words alluding to illegal preparation for the Games. "Why does it bother you, if not because of the blood or the needle?" I was talking to distract myself from the pain I was about to inflict with needle and thread.
"Them!" she hissed. "How dare they send someone like you into the arena and take bets on whether or not you'll win? And when you get hurt providing their sick entertainment, they make you fix yourself so you can keep being amusing for a few more days!" Her face was flushed with anger, and her voice rose as she spoke, so that she was almost shouting her last words.
Shit shit shit. No way in hell that was being broadcast to the districts.
"Shut up!" I ordered. "You can't just say stuff like that and expect there not to be consequences! Do you want to be an Avox?"
The fire in her eyes dimmed infinitesimally, but her tone was still sharp enough to cut diamonds when she spoke again. "I'm not going to make it out of here alive. I have no family for them to punish. I want to say what I mean for once."
"Please, Memorie?" I whispered, begging because I couldn't say what I wanted to, couldn't give her the logical argument. "For me, don't talk like that, now or ever."
"Fine!" She sat back in silence, but didn't look happy about it.
I had already finished one excruciating stitch – I estimated the thing would need about twenty all told – when another parachute floated to land softly on my lap. I merely frowned, ready to go on stitching, but Memorie leaned forward and took it.
She gasped, and I jerked my head up, though it was ridiculous to think whatever Varius had sent me would have injured her. And she was smiling, so that definitely wasn't the problem. Wordlessly, she passed me the contents of the container. Two perfect tears slipped down her cheeks, but her smile never wavered.
The gift was small, a tube of topical pain medication. Why would Varius send this? I wondered. He knew I could tend my own wounds without a numbing agent; he was the one who'd taught me to do it. The fluttering slip of paper caught my attention. I smoothed it across my thigh and read the tiny letters.
"Send her home to us," it said.
"This is from your mentor," I told Memorie, confused. "If he had money from sponsors, why spend it on something to help me instead of you?"
"Helping you is the best way to help me," she replied. "I would have died during the bloodbath if not for you. Now, I'm in the final eight. What does the note say? I didn't read it."
"Uh…" I passed it to her and watched her contort her face in confusion. Then comprehension dawned.
"He thinks you'll let me win? He really must be drunk! Honestly, I'm surprised he poured himself out of bed long enough to even talk to sponsors." She must've realized how cruel that sounded, because she clapped a hand to her mouth in horror. "I didn't mean that," she went on, more calmly this time. "I just – why ask for the impossible." It wasn't a question. "It's not fair to you," she finished.
I said nothing to her, but tilted my head skyward and said "Thank you," again before bending to my task, this time made easier by the clear gel I had to spread over the edges of the wound.
I had to rush through the last few stitches because the light was fading. How far east had we come, I wondered, that we'd lost so many daylight hours? Surely my fight with Glint hadn't lasted that long.
"We should head back to the center of the arena," I said, setting the needle down at last. "It'll get really cold here tonight. Besides, if everyone thinks that mutt is still alive, they won't risk going to the Cornucopia even to look at the shopping list." I could see that Memorie wanted to argue, probably planning to make her case about the injury I'd sustained. I forestalled that line of thinking by getting to my feet and stretching carefully, testing how much the stitches could take.
"See? Good to go," I announced, slinging the backpacks on – to my back, for a change – before Memorie could think of a new argument.
She shook her head and muttered something I'm glad I couldn't hear, but bent to fasten the silver bracelets – which, she'd explained, were the contact points for the body armor we'd come all this way for – around her legs, then her arms. I noticed she didn't fasten one around her right knee, though that left her with an extra. That must be how she uses it to help her walk, I realized. She didn't bother putting one around her left elbow either. The armor would provide a more effective splint for her broken arm than my hasty bandage job had done.
And then she stood. I stared a little at the novelty of it, her moving without my aid. She took a cautious step forward, and then another, less careful one.
"This is fantastic!" she laughed, walking to my side. It made me remember how short she was. "So much better than what I was using at home!" She grinned, blinding me. "Now you don't have to carry me!"
I'd never seen her so happy.
Her good spirits continued as we walked toward the Cornucopia, slowed only slightly by her handicap. It got lighter as we walked, an odd sensation since I knew it was dusk, not dawn. I was glad for the sun, though, because I wasn't sure how good Memorie would be at navigating around obstacles in the dark. I imagined tripping and falling on her broken arm wouldn't feel good. Fortunately, we reached the horn before full dark, so I didn't have to find out.
The body of the worm mutt had been removed, I noticed.
This time, Memorie helped me set up the tent. It was strange working with her instead of around her. She moved oddly, like half a puppet, and I felt another twinge of guilt for breaking her arm. It was something the Capitol could fix easily, at least.
As I watched in fascination, Memorie transferred our blankets from the pack to the tent and brought me a jug of water. She was almost a different person when she wasn't dependent on me for everything. Memorie slid to the ground beside me, and I handed the water back to her.
"Thanks," she said, and her eyes told me she didn't just mean for the water. I nodded in acknowledgement and broke eye contact before she could pursue the issue.
I was saved by the bell, or rather, the anthem. Only one tribute appeared in the sky tonight: Glint, looking polished and confident as he hadn't since Chenille died. To my left, Memorie gave a small sigh, of relief, I suspected. "That's one tribute I'm not going to miss," she said, but her voice was hollow.
Eighteen down, five to go, I thought. "So, who does that leave?" I asked aloud, craning to look up at the list above the Cornucopia. "Quintus and one each from Five, Seven and Nine." At the moment, all four were scattered across the western half of the arena, the daylight side.
"They'll have to move this way in the morning when the second sun rises," Memorie said, continuing my train of thought. "Maybe we can head them off before they leave the temperate zone."
"Maybe," I echoed dubiously. "That's still a pretty big slice of the arena for us to cover, especially since the others will be avoiding the Cornucopia on purpose."
"Well, let me know when you come up with a better idea," Memorie snapped, suddenly sounding frustrated. "I'm going to bed." And she did, retreating into our tent with something less than her usual awkwardness of movement.
I frowned at the tent flap for a few minutes before following. Inside, she was facing the canvas wall, her back to me. I couldn't tell if she was asleep or not, so I arranged my own blankets as quietly as possible and lay down facing the entrance.
I must've drifted off, because I woke, for the second night in a row, to the sound of Memorie's frantic screams. My automatic reaction was to grab my sword and flick our flashlight on, scanning for danger. I found none. Rolling over, I shook Memorie awake. When she opened her eyes, she looked briefly disoriented, but tried to calm her rapid breathing when she realized where she was.
She opened her mouth to say something – probably an apology for waking me – but I shook my head and pulled her close, trying to convey reassurance. "What was it this time?" I asked.
"Glint again," she replied, voice hoarse from screaming. "I know he's gone, but…"
"I'm sorry," I said, patting her back helplessly. I couldn't offer her protection from ghosts and nightmares.
She just shook her head. I switched off the light, and she nestled against my side, trying to get comfortable. "This isn't quite the same with armor on," she said a moment later, still squirming restlessly. "Good for battle; not so good for cuddling. Who knew?"
I withdrew at once, removing my hand from her back as though burned. "We aren't cuddling." I was annoyed. "I'm just trying to make you be quiet so I can get some rest." She had the audacity to laugh. I crossed my arms over my chest, wincing as the motion pulled on my stitches, and went back to sleep.