"What the [REDACTED] was that?!" "We had no idea that sort of reaction-" "Save it." (Silence) "Be thankful that the President hasn't called any of you yet." (Silence) "I mean seriously. It took an entire squad to pry him off of her corpse long enough to get it out of the arena. You better hope that someone can take that [REDACTED] down, otherwise I'll lock you in a room with him when this is all over." (Door slams as Agrippa leaves) "We cut the cameras in time, right?" "Yes. Frankly, I wished we didn't have to see that."
Day Twenty-Five
Mitch growled, trying to will his pain away.
The dirt was not doing anything good for his injuries, but washing them would have to wait. One of the things he remembered from the training sessions was to stay hydrated.
He could not keep himself hydrated if he used all of his water washing his wounds.
Thinking seemed to help subdue the edge of pain. It had made the climb back up much easier, even with the cuts on his back and arm. They would pay for it, provided he would live long enough to enact any semblance of a plan.
Of course he would have to figure out where they had gone. He had no clue as to where he was, but with the cliffs at his back, he was able to narrow it down somewhat. That still could not account for the amount of weaving they might have done.
He thought about screaming until he got their attention, but that was just as liable to draw someone else to him.
A tingling sensation crawled up his spine. Whirling around, Mitch looked to see if anyone was following him. The wind picked, whistling across the branches. Coupled with the sun sinking over the horizon, it gave the forest an eerie quality.
When nothing stuck out, he shrugged and continued walking forward. He would have to find a place to rest before continuing his search.
In the morning, he would just have to keep wandering until he found them. He just wish he had a proper weapon and that the pain in his arm would go away.
/-\\
Soryn and Saerah examined their chosen campsite. It was mostly clear with some bushes dotting the ground between the trees.
The area of the arena they had wandered into had no caves or rises, so if someone stumbled onto the camp, they would have even footing with them. Camping in the trees was off the table since Nylia could not climb more than a few feet off the ground with becoming spooked.
On even footing was not how they wanted to tackle their opponents.
"Is this good enough?" Saerah asked.
Soryn blew a puff of air up his face. "I guess it'll do."
They began setting up camp as night began to fall.
"It's getting a bit chilly" Saerah said, wrapping her arms around her chest.
Soryn shrugged and rolled his shoulders back. "Yeah, but with as many tributes still around, I don't think it would be a good idea to light a fire just yet."
"With the number of fires occurring lately, do you think they'd still come?"
"A smaller fire might be more tempting than a huge blaze, but I'm not ready to risk it."
"I guess the flashlights will have to do for now."
"Make sure you conserve power. I don't think we have any more batteries.
"Alright."
Sniffing the air, Soryn looked around the camp.
"I'm going to check our perimeter." He said, stepping past the trees that immediately surrounded the camp. The light soon failed and Soryn returned, settling down across from Saerah.
"We need a plan to take the others down." Soryn said.
The girls looked at him like he was crazy.
"It's only a matter of time before we have to face them." He continued.
"I don't think that's a good idea." said Saerah.
"I know, which is why we need a plan. Some way to give us the advantage."
"Anything in mind?"
"No. That's why I was saying 'we' need a plan."
His statement was met with silent stares.
"You can sleep on it." Soryn said, standing up and stretching. "We just need something before someone finds us."
Dinner was consumed in silence and no further discussion came up about their plan.
Day Twenty-Six
Saerah sat up leaning against a tree keeping watch over the camp. She tried recalling the last time she had seen Soryn sleep. Even though he stayed up with her for watch and did his own, he did not seem like he had slowed down. And every time she woke up to swap with him, he was wide awake. She almost wished she had that kind of energy.
As it was, it was a struggle for her to stay awake. She would be glad when the games were over. Then she could sleep in and no one could tell her what to do...
The sound of a twig snapping pulled her from her state of drowsiness. Surveying the camp, she spotted a shape approaching the camp. The shape was groaning, making its apparent attempts to sneak utterly useless. Soryn was already on his feet, prepared for a fight and Nylia was getting up next to him, crouching closely next to the tree.
Soryn nodded and Saerah fired an arrow at an approaching silhouette. A yelp of pain was heard, and Mitch stumbled into the moonlight with an arrow in his chest. As the boy collapsed to the ground, the cannon went off.
Soryn approached the corpse quickly, stopping short when he noticed a bush that had not been present earlier during the day. Looking at Mitch, Soryn saw that he was not carrying anything of value.
The bush held his attention.
As the hovercraft came overhead to retrieve Mitch's corpse, Philyp sprang from his hiding spot, knocking Soryn to the ground. Saerah released another arrow, grazing his shoulder, and nailing him in the chest with her second. As she notched her third arrow, Sonny jumped out from the tree she had been hiding in and easily dodged Saerah's poorly aimed shot.
Rolling back to his feet, Soryn grabbed the nearest blade in time to deflect Philyp's downward stroke and grabbed the arrow in his chest. With a shout of agony, Philyp backhanded Soryn and kicked him away, giving him time to break the shaft.
The other tribute breathed heavily, but kept an eye on Soryn as he gripped the sword with both hands. Something seemed off, even from before his immediate injuries.
"You've gotten slower." Soryn quipped.
Philyp ignored the comment and swung his sword at him. Dancing in an out of Philyp's reach, Soryn evaded his attacks. In the space between his opponent's strikes, Soryn could see a mixture of anger and weariness in his eyes.
"This is the highest scoring tribute?" Soryn thought to himself. Crossing blades, he could tell that Philyp still had his strength, but he could also see that his time in the arenea had taken its toll on him.
Deflecting Philyp's swing into the dirt, Soryn slit the boy's dominant wrist and moved behind him, slashing the back of his left knee, sending Philyp falling to the ground as he swung around to hit Soryn.
Grabbing the falling tribute's arm, Soryn planted his blade in the shoulder of Philyp's remaining arm and jumped on top of him. With a boot at his back coupled with a pull and a twist, Philyp's sword arm gave way, dislocating at the shoulder as Soryn wrenched the blade from his grip.
Philyp looked up at Soryn as he held the sword above him.
"The friggin' shrimp beat me." he muttered, his words sputtering in the dirt.
With a slight heave, Soryn drove the sword into the tribute's back.
Looking back at the camp, he could see Sonny standing over Saerah, axe in hand as she walloped against the machete. Soryn pulled his shortsword from Philyp's back as the next stoke of Sonny's axe knocked the blade from Saerah's grip.
Philyp's screams of pain garnered his partner's attention, first looking at Philyp, then at Soryn. "No!" she screamed as she rushed Soryn.
Running to meet her halfway, Soryn caught her axe inches from his face. Sliding her weapon to the side and ducked when she swung at him again. The girl brought her elbow down, slamming herself against his shoulder as she dropped to the ground on top of him.
Soryn felt her axe clank against his sheath. When she raised it up for another strike, Soryn drove his knuckles into her throat, stunning her long enough for him to wriggle out of her grip.
A wild axe swing nearly clipped Soryn's knee as he jumped back from retrieving his weapon. Sonny's attacks became more wild and careless as she recovered, but served no purpose except to tell Soryn exactly how far she could reach.
Another downward swing.
Soryn scooped up his other blade and caught her strike again and rolled back, pressing his foot against her stomach, depriving her of her weapon.
Cursing under her breath, Sonny pulled a knife from her boot and began to lunge at Soryn as he recovered.
Then Saerah drove the machete into her back
With the cannon sounding twice in close succession, District Three was no longer a competitor for this year. Glancing at bodies, Philyp's dead eyes seemed to stare back with resignation and sorrow of his last moments. Briefly, Soryn regretted not dispatching him faster.
Saerah limped to Soryn's side, battered, bruised, and bloody from her fight with Sonny.
"I'm fine." she said as Soryn looked her over, making note of the gash on her leg. Apart from that, nearly everything else was superficial. It might leave a scar, but a quick cleanup would prevent anything else.
"Nylia, come patch her up." he said, looking up as the hovercraft's searchlights illuminated the forest.
With some hesitation, the girl scrambled to treat Saerah's injuries while Soryn relieved the dead tributes of their equipment. He would take inventory in the morning.
"A-are y-y-you okay, Soryn?" Nylia asked.
Looking at his knee, Soryn shook his head with a tired smile. "Not even a scratch."
The hovercraft lingered overhead as it retrieved the corpses. Its sudden departure plunged them into darkness.
"We need to move out." Soryn said, tossing Philyp's sword aside.
"B-b-but Saerah-" Nylia began.
"We just took out the top scoring tribute. If they have any sense, everyone else is going to be on our tail in short order to take us out."
The words had come out harsher than he had intended. Taking a deep breath, he resumed.
"Make sure she's patched up well and hope that they can't track us."
Soryn packed up while Nylia finished treating Saerah's wounds. In short order, they were on the move, putting as much distance they could between them and whatever hunters would be gathering at their old camp.
Mentally reviewing the list of tributes, Soryn softly sighed with a smirk. Only six tributes were left. And with Phylip and Sonny gone, two of the greatest obstacles were out of the way.
Victory finally seemed more than just a fantasy.
/-\\