Let the Sky Fall

by HogwartsDreamer113

"The districts are helpless... just when they think they have grasped our ways, their sky - their world as they know it, that is - will fall once more." After three successful games, the Capitol is hungry for more. When the games are taken to freezing, mysterious ice caves, who will survive, and who will fall? The 4th Games, from the POV of eight OCs owned by me.

14. Chapter 13

Author's Note: I have deviated from my original plans slightly, so hopefully the chapters to come are going to be more action-packed and exciting. :)

To Vaan Levy, I did not forget about your sponsor gift, in case you were wondering. That is to come this chapter.

Chapter 13: Days 7 and 8

Heather Bradshaw, District Seven, age 17

Maggie is gone. Two full days have past since the mutts attacked, and since then Jackson and I have been forced into the deeps of the ice cave, no longer feeling safe above ground. Last night, we gathered around a tiny fire burning solely off of a large box of toothpicks a sponsor had sent us. We lost our previous source of firewood, and we had no other purpose for such a pointless gift, so we put them to use in the most creative way we could think of. However, a box of tiny wood splinters can only go so far before they burn out. We also have begun to run low on food.

"I think we need to split up again," Jackson says. "Just to find more resources."

I frown, unsure if that's the best move. "Are you sure? What if something happens?"

Jackson shrugs. "Nothing's happened before."

"Okay," I say apprehensively. We already lost Maggie, and I don't want to lose Jackson too. Of course, I can't ignore the fact that Jackson and I were with Maggie when she sacrificed herself for us. Even in an alliance, we can never be truly safe, not when we are here in an arena.

"Meet back here by sunset?" he asks.

I nod. "Sure."

We head off in opposite directions. After walking a short distance, I coming across waddling black and white birds. At first I'm wary, worrying if they are mutts like the large leopard mutts that killed Maggie, but I soon realize they are harmless as they quickly waddle away from me rather than towards me, as if scared of me attacking them. They might make a good food source, but I can't find the strength to kill the innocent little creatures myself. If someone killed them for me and they were my only source of food, I definitely could eat them, but can't bring myself to do the deed of hunting them. It may be silly of me, but if need be, I can send Jackson back here to do the hunting.

As I continue walking, I gather pieces of kindling. The small supply I manage to pick up won't last long, but it's better than nothing. I'm careful where I walk, looking out for other tributes and other dangers. Luckily, I find nothing but ice and frozen sticks and stones. However, the farther I walk, the more lost I begin to feel. All the twisting corridors of ice turn me around, and I soon realize I don't know for certain how to get back to camp. The sun begins to set, and I have yet to find Jackson. I'm lost.

I chew on my lip in anxiety. We shouldn't have separated. I should have paid better attention to where I was going. Now, I'm alone, and the sun is fading away much too quickly. Too soon, it becomes too dark to see. Giving up for the night, I sit against a wall of the cave and dig through my backpack. Thankfully, we had divided our remaining supplies evenly, so Jackson and I both have gear to make it through the night. I have one of our water bottles, the sleeping bag, a pillow, a half-eaten pack of dried fruit, a watch, a winter hat, and a set of knives. I pull out the sleeping bag and pillow and crawl inside, not intending to get any sleep tonight.

Right on cue, the anthem begins to play throughout the arena. I look up, half dreading seeing the fallen tributes, and half hoping I'm a few people closer to going home than I was yesterday after seeing Tiffany's face in the sky. The face I see tonight, though, comes as a complete shock. The boy has neatly styled light brown hair, and navy blue peer down at me. He doesn't smile, and his entire face has a solemn look to it. I would recognize his face anywhere.

It's Jackson.

I lose it, dissolving into tears. I must look foolish, but I can't help myself. Days of stress and fear come pouring out in the form of my tears. Now I am truly alone.

As loneliness begins to sink in, I realized I never have been alone before. I couldn't have been, not with so many siblings. My thoughts turn to my siblings and how much I miss them. Igor, Amber, Rowena, Carver, Keeva. I have never been without at least one sibling in my life, and now I might make it home to them. My fellow tributes are dying, and more and more families are losing their loved ones every day. Will mine be one of them?

I feel guilty for turning my thoughts away from Jackson to missing my family. However, I think losing my last ally has just been the last straw. I'm breaking down, and it scares me.

I don't know how long my meltdown lasts, but eventually, my tears have dried on my cheeks, and my head rests gently on my knees. I try my best to stay awake, afraid of who might find me now that I'm alone. At some point, I must lose my battle, because the next thing I know, I open my eyes to a light-filled cave. I am still alive, despite having let my guard down. What's more, I am surprised to find a sponsor gift drift down from a hole in the roof of the cave. A sponsor gift. Feeling unworthy of a prize after last night, I slowly crawl over to the parachute and untie the knot.

Inside is a small thermos and a note. I read the note first.

Heather,

It's okay to cry sometimes. Keep your head up.

Timber

"Thank you," I say looking up. So this is my mentor's doing. Perhaps has a small pile of funds for me and decided I needed cheering up. Panem knows I need positive thoughts right now.

I twist off the lid of the thermos, allowing steam to rise out of the container. I sniff the contents, and the aroma of warm chicken noodle soup fills my nose. I sip it gently, careful not to burn my throat. Right now, this soup is a delicacy. The noodles are soft and wholesome, and each bite is full of plump and juicy chicken. Pieces of celery and carrots create additional flavor. Even the broth itself is delicious, tasting of a combination of all its ingredients rather than just water like some soups at home do. Soaking in the soup, my entire body grows warm.

I am so absorbed in my meal that at first, I don't notice that I am no longer alone. I don't notice the footsteps sneaking towards me. I don't notice the sharp blade of an ax until it is embedded in my side and I cry out in shock and pain. I don't notice that Concordia Afton has snuck up on me until it is too late.

---

Day 8

Concordia Afton, District Two, age 18

I have been robbed.

One the morning of day six, I woke up to find a lantern and a sleeve of crackers missing from my bag. It's possible I could have lost the supplies. They could have slipped out of my backpack, when I wasn't looking, although that is doubtful. When awake, I tend to be careful and observant. However, I am a heavy sleeper. When she was a teenager, my older sister, Marcia, used to like to see how loud she could crank her music before I'd wake up. When I was little, she could easily slide my lost teeth out from under my pillow and replace them with candy or coins. Even now, I have to keep my alarm clock on the loudest volume setting. That being said, it is likely any tribute could have snuck up on me to take the supplies, with me been none the wiser until the following morning.

I'm not mad about the theft itself. I'm mad at the fact that I have been made a fool on national television. If I could be stolen from in my sleep, who's to say I won't be killed. Likely, the thief was a weaker tribute. The stronger ones, like the pair from Five or even Troy, probably would have killed me. One slip up like that again, and my life would be gone. I can't let that happen. For now, I decide to try to gain back any sponsors I may have lost. The last time I ventured out of the cave, I had little luck. The best plan of action would be to hunt around the mazes of the cave, in hopes of finding some sort of entertainment for the Capitolites.

It's nearly dark when my wish comes true. Heather, District's Seven female tribute, is sitting against the wall of the cave, a steaming thermos in her hands. She may only be a year younger than me, but at this point in time, she looks about thirty years older. She is run down, her long, brown hair a tangled rat's nest. Her eyes, rimmed with red as though she has received little sleep, are fixated on her thermos. It must be a freshly received sponsor gift, since nothing could manage to stay hot down here for very long. I wonder what she did to earn such a welcome gift. Thinking back, I remembering seeing the face of her ally, the boy from Six, in the sky last night. Maybe she killed him? Having seen her in her interviews and training, I wouldn't think so, but that could be part of her strategy.

I hang back for a moment, feeling indecisive. I have an ax at the ready. I could throw it at her right now, but I'm not sure if that's the right move. Yet, I know that if I don't make a move now, I might not get another chance.

I throw the ax.

Heather cries out sharply, and stares down at her side, which has been hit by my ax. Her eyes snap up to meet mine, dark brown and wide with fear. To think that she had a manipulative strategy in mind seems silly now. She is just a terrified teenage girl, who didn't sign up for this. Not like I did.

I lunge for the ax in a rush of adrenaline and pull it out before Heather can react. Though stunned, she's not ready to give up just yet.

"Please," she begs frantically. "I - I can help you. We can be allies."

For some reason, that makes me hesitate. The sudden burst of adrenaline is gone. If I do this, I'll be killing an innocent, unarmed girl. "I never wanted allies," I mutter, staring at the bloody ax. I know it's the truth. I'm struggling to kill a stranger. I could never kill someone I spent days wandering this arena with.

What are you waiting for, silly girl? You started this. Finish it! A small voice in my head encourages me to make the final blow. It sounds suspiciously like Patriot's. Maybe I'm going insane.

"Then… spare me," Heather pleads, her voice shaking. I look up to see tears pooling in her eyes. I look away again a second later. "I have a family."

"So do I." I think of my parents, who would be cheering me on with Patriot. I think of my sister, who would be begging me not to make another kill. I even think of my grandmother, Minerva, who would be saying that it was stupid of me to come here in the first place. I'm still not sure who's right.

Finally, I realize I need to make my decision. It's too late to turn back now. I give Heather an apologetic glance, hoping she will understand, before I plunge my ax into her heart. The fear leaves her eyes, and a glassy look replaces it. It's done. I've killed. Again.

Startled, I realize this is the second life I took. The first, Heather's district partner, Kauri, told me to take his life. District Seven must hate me.

WIth that in mind, I rip my ax out of Heather's chest and bolt away, my feet sliding on the ice. I can't be there anymore. I'm a murderer, and if I hang around the site of my crime any longer, I just might go insane. Once I'm far enough away, I slide down the wall of the cave. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest, I can almost hear it. My knees are quivering, and I try to stop them, but I can't seem to control my own muscles.

Did I make the right decision? Not just now, but to enter the Games at all? Not for the first time, I wonder if I should have thought this through.

Either way, I can't go back. I might as well move forward, no matter how difficult that might be.

---

District Nine

Elise Delacour, age 44

Ever since my daughter Alora was reaped into these horrific Hunger Games, my life has been more chaotic than ever. No one at the Justice Building, where I work as a secretary, will look me in the eye anymore. They treat me like a porcelain doll, as if one wrong word will break me. My constant upkeep of my work should tell them I am perfectly fine. I'm trying to show I'm worthy of a promotion, a project I've been working on since before Alora was born. Giving birth to her was just a break on the road to improving my career. Alora doesn't understand why I work so hard, why I need to work so hard. At least she appreciated the cash I brought in. She's distant from my husband, Adley, and I. Before she was reaped, I would try to spend time with her, but she would only push me away. She is just so bitter towards us, and I don't understand why. I don't know what I could have done to change things. Hopefully I still have a chance. We may not be close, but Adley and I still love our daughter, and we want her to come home. She is our only child.

On the evening of the eighth day, I slip in the door later than usual, and I am relieved to finally slide off my heels. Adley won't be home until late tonight; he rarely is nowadays. Often, he is either working or out drinking with his friends. He is no drunk by any means, as I wouldn't dream marry anyone like that, so I'm fine with him having a good time. With no other family, that means I'm alone tonight.

I make myself a small dinner and sit down in front of the hologram screen. Our family is fortunate. Because of the money I pull in from my secretary job, we want for nothing. Never once has Alora needed to take out tesserae like so many in our district do, which is why it was such a shock for her to be reaped. It's ironic. District Nine grows the grain, yet the children of the farmers are the ones who collect a sizable amount of tesserae grains. Pathetic, if you ask me.

I half watch the viewing as I eat. I'm only interested in Alora. Today and yesterday seem to have been a day of sponsoring. The girl from Five received matches and a small meal, which she shared with her district partner, and someone must really be rooting for the boys from Three and Four after the little one knocked out the girl from Four. They were sent a canteen, a small knife, a first aid kit for Ciacco, and a small knife all in one day. The girl from Seven also received a thermos of soup, only to be killed moments later by the volunteer from Two. I sure hope no one sponsors that girl from Eleven. She tortured another tribute today, that boy from Six, Jackson, I believe. She gutted him like an animal. His death was probably more gory than the poor boy who was tortured in the bloodbath. It was disgusting, and any Capitolite crazy enough to sponsor that kind of behavior should be thrown in an asylum.

Alora hasn't been sent one sponsor gift yet, probably because she hasn't done much of anything. She usually wanders around, mumbling to herself. Some people may think she has gone insane, but I know that this is just her normal self. Alora has always been a solitary child, and often talks to herself. Her father and I used to bring it up, but she seemed annoyed whenever we did, so now we just let it be. In the arena with nothing to do, she seems restless and bored. I only hope she doesn't get too bored and start causing trouble. If she just stays out of trouble, maybe she might make it out of the arena. With eleven other tributes still alive besides her, she's halfway there. Still, she has a long road ahead of her.

CQ: Did you like the POV of Alora's mother, Elise? Whose loved ones would you like to see in the future?

Author's note: Well, we're halfway through, folks. :) This chapter was sad to write, but I'm very happy with it, especially Concordia's section.

I added Elise's POV because I thought it was time for another loved one's pov. Plus, I needed some way to show all the sponsor gifts thanks to CelticGames4. :) By the way, Heather's soup was a grab bag purchase. I decided to be nice this time. That was a three point discount.

Finally, another increase in prices! I know, already. This one was a 15% increase from last chapter's prices.

Food:

large water canteen (full): 32

simple food (dried meat, fruit, crackers, bread, etc.): 25

small meal (soup, fresh meat, pasta, etc.): 32

water bottle (empty): 20

water bottle (full): 25

Survival:

burn medication: 38

fever/cough/cold medicine: 38

first aid kit: (small: contains small bandages and antiseptic): 20

matches: 13

weapon of choice: 83

Comfort:

blanket: 20

blanket/pillow set: 32

pillow: 20

Luxury (some can be used to the tributes advantage. Think creatively.):

blush: 20

box of chocolate: 25

fur coat: 38

hairbrush: 13

jewelry: 38

lipstick or lip gloss: 13

mascara: 20

make-up set: 32

make-up remover: 20

mirror (hand-held): 25

nail polish: 13

note of love and encouragement/fan letter: 20

toothbrush: 20

toothpaste: 7

toothpicks (box of 20): 7

wig: 20

Extras:

ammo (arrows, darts, etc.): 51

articles of clothing: 38

grab bag item (I choose any item off this list. You may get a bargain. You may be ripped off. No promises which.): 25