Chapter Fourteen

On The Edge

Author's Note: Okay, don't be alarmed if you see chapters being posted at really weird times/don't get posted for whole days - it's simply the consequence of my having returned to school (for the last term before uni, HOW SCARY IS THAT?). I'm exhausted but, because I love you guys so much, I'll keep on updating :^)

Oh, and yes, I know that technically there was no mention of a cliff in these Games…that's why they call it artistic license!

Legal: If you'd like to file a legal complaint, kindly look elsewhere.

Ash

I wake up to three silver spheres, covered in metallic sheets, surrounding our little encampment. More parachutes!

"Hey guys, get up," I say, softly shaking Thorn and Dan out of sleep. Vixen blinks, her eyes taking in our sponsored gifts.

"Wow," she mumbles, picking one up and twisting off the lid. Her face falls momentarily with disappointment before handing it to Dan.

"From Woof, it would seem."

He looks inside eagerly, only to pull out…a cup of broth?

"Is that it?" he gripes, checking out the little white card at the bottom of the sphere. Sitting next to him, I can't resist peering over his shoulder:

CARRY ON THE DRAMA. THEY'RE LOVING IT.

"What does it say?" asks Thorn, opening up the second one. He crumples up the card in his hand. His face is calm but his eyes are burning with cold anger.

"Nothing important."

"Well, at least now you've got a hot breakfast," she says.

"You mean we've got a hot breakfast."

"Don't be ridiculous. You obviously earned it, so you should get to enjoy it all."

He earned it. We all earned these parachutes, but by doing what exactly? By me running for my life? By Dan putting a knife through Flint's heart to stop her pain? I suddenly lose any sympathy I might have had for any person, in any district, watching these Games in the security of their own home, and being entertained by the horror growing around us.

"Oh, Ash, this one's for you," says Thorn, tossing the sphere my way. I take a look.

"Finnick, you hunk of a mentor," I laugh, holding up another tub of the soothing wonder balm. Last night it felt like cool, crystallised raindrops were caressing my wounded skin. I kiss the lid and smile.

"So whose is the last one?" asks Vixen, her elbows on her bent knees.

"Let's have a look," Dan says, reaching over to pick it up. The lid comes off to reveal something totally random: sunglasses. A single pair.

"Um, what?" He dangles them in the air. Bemused, Thorn joins us and plucks the card out of the sphere. Her expression tells me the message doesn't make things any clearer.

"It's from my mentor, but I don't get it: 'Use for enlightenment purposes only.' Is he trying to be funny?"

Dan slide the glasses on.

"Whoa, I can't see a thing in these!" He takes them off again. "Must be his idea of a practical joke."

"Well I'm not amused," she says, looking to the sky. "What, is sending something useful, like a weapon, too much for you? Honestly."
"We do have knives," Vixen points out, flashing her own in the sunlight.

"Maybe, but they're small," I chime in, applying more balm to my burn. "Sooner or later the Careers are going to find us, and when they do, we'll be in need of something more substantial."

"I guess there's always the Cornucopia, but…" Vixen trails off, looking specifically at Dan. He folds his arms resolutely and deliberately neutralises his stare. Looks like if the audience wants inner conflict from him, then that's exactly what they won't be getting.

"But nothing. I'll go and see what I can find. The fewer weapons the Careers have at their disposal, the easier I'll be sleeping."

"You should go with someone," I say, before glancing at my ankle. "I'd volunteer, but I don't think I'd end up being very useful in this condition."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'll come with you," says Vixen, standing up and tucking her knife into her belt. "I feel like a good walk."

"Sure, why not...if you want," Dan replies. Hm, I get the feeling those two are still a little hostile around one another. They're going to have one awkward journey up to the clearing.

"No time like the present," she says, and since none of us can come up with a good argument for the contrary, he shrugs and starts walking with her.

"Be back soon," I say.

"And be careful!" calls Thorn.

Dan

As Vixen and I try to get our bearings en route, I can't help but notice that this feels more than a little…awkward. I mean, I spoke to her for the first time just yesterday; I don't really know anything about her at all.

Makes me wish Thorn had volunteered to go with me first.

"So, uh, Vixen," I say, breaking the palpable silence. "Tell me about District Five."

"Why?"

"…Just trying to make conversation."

"Oh. Sorry to disappoint, but there's not very much to say about it."

"Come on, there's gotta be something you miss about your home. I thought you guys had the cleanest hospitals in Panem. Except for the Capitol, obviously. "

"I wouldn't know. I've never been in one."

"Oh. Um…is the scenery nice?"

"Maybe we should just keep walking and, you know, not make small-talk."

Right then. I shut up, letting my ears listen to the chorus of mockingjays flitting between branches.

Finally, we get to the edge of the clearing, looking out from a different position to the one I was in yesterday. My meaty broth threatens to come back up at the thought, so I just try and remain focused on the task at hand.

"There it is," I whisper, nodding to the pile of supplies. A short distance away from it, the Careers are practicing their archery, shooting arrows into tree trunks. All three of them (what happened to Peeta is anyone's guess) are very much alive. Flint deserves to live more than all of them put together.

"Wait a second," Vixen mutters, narrowing her eyes. "Looks like they've got a watchman."

I lean my head to the right and notice, seated on an upturned crate, a younger tribute. What was his name…Chip, that's it. From Three.

"Man, how did he score that job? He doesn't look that strong."

"They must need him for something," says Vixen, not taking her eyes off him. "But what?"

That's when I notice precisely what's different about the pile from yesterday. Now, it's surrounded by what look like lots of molehills. That's an awfully specific layout…

"The mines," she whispers, reaching the same conclusion. "They've dug them up from under the platforms and reinstalled them somehow."

"Guess they want to up security. One false step and we'll be diced."

"So what do we do?"

She and I fall silent. There doesn't seem to be a way around this. Even if we were to somehow figure out how to steal the remaining weapons without being blown to pieces, there's almost a guarantee that the Careers or Chip would catch us.

I'm about to abandon the mission when my eyes latch onto the sword perched on a rock between the supplies and the lake. It's the same one Cato used to…deal with my partner tribute. And he's just put it to one side while he, Marvel and Clove distract themselves with bows and arrows.

I could do some serious damage with it. To them. To Clove. But…as much as it pains me to admit it, I'd only be asking for murder. My own. I need to make it back to Thorn and Ash in one piece.

"You see what I see?"

"…Oh. How very careless of Cato," Vixen says, a smile cracking onto her lips.

"I know. He doesn't deserve to keep it."

"I agree, but it's a big risk to take. One wrong move and, in all seriousness, you're dead."

"I know," I say unblinkingly. "But it'd be so worth it."

"Well...only you know what you're capable of," she says, patting me on the shoulder in what I can only assume is an attempt at friendliness. "I've got your back."

"Thanks."

I take a deep, quiet breath, remove my jacket to minimise potential rustling, and pelt across the grass.

My eyes flash first to Chip, whose back is to me. He doesn't turn around.

I steer clear of the supplies, in case I set off a mine. I reach the rock, and lightly jump in the air, landing on the balls of my feet.

This moment is crucial. My chest hurts like hell, but I keep my breathing shallow and as silent as I can, with the three Careers a mere fifteen feet away. The rock and the sword are right there in front of me. I can see the afternoon light reflecting off the blade...he must clean it after every kill.

I let my eyes dart down to my hand, watching very carefully as it closes around the hilt of the sword. Even the tiniest scraping sound against the rock could be the difference between life and death.

Sweat drips into my eyes. A spark of hope flickers through my heart as the sword comes silently away from the rock.

And then there's another hand.

My eyes stare straight into Cato's. He's trying to crush all the bones in my hand, and I feel my arm being pushed back as we lock into a struggle for the sword.

Now my knees are buckling…and then I see Clove's smirk over Cato's. Something, I don't know what, flares up inside of me. It's stronger than anger. It's a ferocious desire for vengeance, and it's enough to make my elbow to come into contact with Cato's jaw. His grip loosens, and the sword comes out of my hands.

I don't care.

"YOU!" I launch myself at Clove. We spin through the grass. I've caught her by surprise. My knuckles smash into her cheekbone.

"You killed her! YOU KILLED HER!"

"CATO, HELP - "

I'm wrenched off her tiny frame. Marvel holds my arms still for a second, but I kick backwards into his knees and jab my elbow into his ribs. He backs off.

I quickly scan each of their livid faces before high tailing it into the forest.

This is a section I don't remember going through in my time here; I have no idea what's up ahead.

So many things rush past, smack me in the face, cut across my skin and snag on my clothes, but all of that is irrelevant now. I have to keep running, no matter what.

But my body is in agony; I've never pushed it so hard. This makes the bleep test look like a leisurely stroll.

When my arms thrash through a final set of branches, however, I realise I have an even bigger problem.

My feet skid to a halt with no distance to spare. Dust falls into the air, and tiny pebbles bounce off the face of the steep drop that is a cliff.

I'm at the edge of the arena. My mind is cast back to stories of the Second Quarter Quell, when its victor, Haymitch Abernathy, used the pre-installed bouncing reflex at the bottom of a cliff, just like this one, to stay alive. Bad news for me is, it's unlikely the gamemakers would let a tribute have that same advantage in these Games; waiting over the edge is death, and nothing else.

"It's over, Eight."

I slowly, shakily, turn to face Clove, backed up by Cato and Marvel. Like me, they're breathless, scratched and bruised. The only difference is they're safe from a certain death.

"Looks like you've got no place left to run," sneers Cato, stepping forward. I don't move.

"Oh, that's original," I say, making the words as acerbic as I can. He just shakes his head.

"You're an idiot, you know that. Trying to make off with my sword."

"Well, for what it's worth," I growl, straightening up and wiping sweat out of my eyes. "You're a psycho. That goes for all of you."

"It's what the people want, isn't it?" Clove pipes up in her twisted little way.

"Really?" I fix her with a steady glare. "I mean look at you; are you proud you killed Flint? Did you enjoy causing her excruciating death? Seeing her blood spill onto the grass?"

It's Cato's turn now.

"And you. Were you pleased when you left my partner to die, bleeding, and in unimaginable pain, on the ground, alone?"

They're stoic. No smart comebacks from them now.

"Well I hope it was fun while it lasted. Because their blood will always be on your hands. Their families will never recover from this. And…" I feel tears prick out of my eyes to mingle with the sweat, but I couldn't care less. "…And even if I lived through these Games, I'd wish I could have died. Just to forget the bloodshed."

I feel drained, to the point where I don't resist when Cato uses the hilt of his sword to push me hard in the shoulder. My heels tip back, then my legs, my back…

Gravity is different now. I'm falling into light.

Thorn

For an hour, after Dan and Vixen leave, I watch Ash get up and take tentative steps around our base. Whatever's in that stuff she keeps putting on her ankle, it's doing the trick.

"You know, I wonder how Katniss, Peeta and Rue are doing," I say, sharpening Flint's knives with a stone. "I mean, I haven't seen him since the first night, and the other two might as well be invisible."

"Maybe that's their secret weapon," says Ash, completing her third lap around the fire. She lowers herself into a sitting position.

"Hadn't thought of that," I respond. "Hey, come to think of it, Dan never mentioned Peeta when he came running back from…Flint. Do you think he got away from the Careers? Maybe he and Katniss have found each other now."

"Who knows..." says Ash, deep in thought. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I know it seems like a long while ago now, but in your interview with Caesar…"

Wait, where's she going with this?

"...Yes?"

"I guess what I'm trying to ask is, why are you so sure you won't survive the Games?"

Oh not this again. Has she forgotten there are cameras everywhere, recording this conversation word for word?

"I just won't."

"But why?"

"Because, a Career is so obviously going to win. You've seen what they can do."

"Thorn, need I remind you that, according to your sponsors, you're totally on the same level as the Careers? You got a 10."

"Well…okay, yeah, I got a 10. But so what? Katniss got an 11. By that logic, she'll win."

"I'm not necessarily talking about winning the Games," says Ash. "All I'm saying is, I think you need to give yourself more credit. Otherwise the belief that you're inevitably going to die will only make it easier to lose your will to live. It'll become a self-fulfilling prophecy."

I look her in the eyes.

"Ash, trust me. As nice as it is, you're wasting your advice. It's not a question of belief. Frustrating to hear, I know. But this is something I've never discussed properly outside my family." I rest my forehead in the heel of my hand. "All I can tell you is that a couple of months ago I got some news that…shook me up pretty badly, I-I'm sure you can guess. Life, and the will to live, took on a new meaning overnight, and as my sister or mother would tell you, I haven't really been the same person since. And that's how I know."

Silence descends like a curtain, save for the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Ash scrapes away at a twig until she reaches its wick, apparently trying to make sense of the vague answer I've just given her.

That's when we hear someone running our way.

It's Vixen. It's only Vixen. I leap to my feet, but somewhere in the back of my mind the worst scenario is already a reality.

"Guys! I…" she's bent double with breathlessness. "I'm so sorry, but Dan-"

"What happened?" asks Ash sharply, forcing herself to stand.

"I don't even know! He…took a risk and went for…Cato's sword, which he'd left…unprotected. Dan thought if he…got it, we might all be safer for it. But Cato caught him red-handed, and then Dan went crazy and started attacking Clove and…they all ran off into the woods and I have no idea where they are now or if he's alive -"

"And what exactly were you doing while all this was happening?" I say, spitting viciousness out with the words. "Did you even try to help him?"

"Thorn, please…" Ash interjects, but I don't feel like backing down just yet.

"Well? Did you just turn around and run, leaving him all alone and defenseless?"

"He had a knife," Vixen mutters sheepishly. My hands go to my scalp in furious incredulity.

"You - you are just…you coward! How could you do that to him?"

"I wasn't thinking, I -"

"Damn right you weren't thinking!" My voice is raised to a shout. "Thanks to you his life is now hanging in the balance! For all we know he's already been -"

Cannon. I couldn't imagine it if I tried.

The exploding tension diffuses instantly, to make way for that unbearable void called silence.

I lower my arms. Vixen just stares, her mouth partly open. I feel myself swaying, and sit on the ground with a clumsy thud. I look to my left, and Ash is supporting herself against a tree. Her face is turned away, but it's obvious she's shedding tears.

Vixen walks slowly, deliberately, to the other side of the fire, and sits down, her expression hollow on the surface.

I'm not sure what I'm doing at that point, whether I'm crying quietly or shrieking or babbling nonsensical words under my breath or all three simultaneously. It doesn't matter. Dan is the only thing that matters to us right now. Dan, forever out of the Games.

…Is it weird for a writer to mourn her dead characters? Tell me what you think in a review, perhaps :^) Thank you.