CHAPTER 16: PUSHIN' PILLARS
She could remember clear as day standing in the underground hallway just like this one awaiting the moment when she would be plunged into the arena to face off against twenty-two strangers and her best friend. Her throat had been dry then, too, and she had tried drinking water, but it felt like chugging mud. Cinna had been there, waiting with her in that calm, almost mournful sort of way that Cinna always had about him.
He had been betting on her.
There was no Cinna here now. She stood alone, only Peacekeepers at the doors, and the cylinder she would have to step into in only a few more short moments.
Guess they decided she didn't need anyone holding her hand this time.
Back then she had been a terrified thirteen-year-old girl, with twin braids and knobbly knees, suffering from malnutrition. She was older now, changed. She was seventeen. Taller, stronger. Her body had filled out, her hair had gotten longer—just one braid instead of two—and food had been as readily available to her as any food ever was in Twelve.
She was still skinny, but no one would call her scrawny anymore. Gone were the knobbly knees, the hollow cheeks, the cracked lips. They had been replaced with empty eyes and a permanent frown.
She wasn't sure it had been a fair trade in the end.
The uniform Cinna had dressed her in for the arena wasn't like the one she had seen Peeta wearing before his departure. Peeta's had been designed for practicality, but Katniss had a feeling hers had been done for show.
And it was showing alright.
Her black pants were skin tight, tucked into the heavy brown leather boots that stopped mid-calf. They were comfy and not heels, she noted gratefully. They laced up and seemed pretty sturdy. Her top was a deep forest green with quarter sleeves and a heart-shaped neckline that accented what little cleavage her upper body could muster. It was tight at the waist and split off into three tails upon reaching her hips. The back of her shirt was open, held together only by a series of crisscrossing spindles of thin rope. A brown leather belt was secured around her waist and an arm-guard covered her left forearm.
They had made her to look like a huntress and the arm-guard was proof that no one had forgotten what her skill had been in the Games.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and prepared herself. This was it. Once again, there was no going back.
Absently, her hand went to the Mockingjay broach pinned upon her left breast. She stroked it until the Peacekeepers at her door came forward and nudged her into the cylinder.
…
Katniss was prepared for the darkness. The perpetual night of this year's Games had been a popular topic of discussion between her and Haymitch, her and the potential sponsors, her and pretty much everyone she had come into contact with. There hadn't been an arena like it to date.
Katniss was ready it.
So when her platform rose into the sky and she could see the heads of her fellow mentors coming up from the ground, she was surprised to find that it was bright as day. The wide expanse of green grass hedged by a darker green marking the treeline was more brilliant than anything she had seen before. The world was alive with color. Blue skies, popping greens, purple and pink wildflowers.
It was amazing.
It was with effort that she remembered the fifteen minute burst of daylight that the tributes had encountered just the day before. Was this on a timer? If it was, what sort of timer? Obviously it wasn't a daily thing. Maybe it was random? Would they just suddenly get bursts of daylight in the middle of the Games? Had the Game Makers decided to adjust the arena now that the rules had changed?
Katniss didn't have the answers. All she had were five fellow rising mentors, battle ready and undoubtedly as broken as she was. Her friends, her enemies, and the arena.
When they had cleared the cylindrical tubes completely, silence washed through the field. They stared at each other, watching and waiting, knowing that death lay at their feet should they jump into the fray too soon. The countdown began.
60 seconds.
Her legs twitched to run already. 59.
But she wouldn't, she couldn't. 58.
Because they had to wait. 57.
She couldn't die here, before things had even started. 56.
Because she had a mission. 55.
More noble than her last one. 54.
The one to merely survive. 53.
This time, she was in it for him. 52.
This time, she had to save Peeta. 51.
And she wouldn't let anyone stop her. 50.
Not Finnick, who loved Annie more than she thought anyone could love. 49.
Not Johanna, whose tribute was a tiny little redheaded girl. 48.
Not Brutus who had painted a target on her back. 47.
Not Madge who had a strategy. 46.
Not her own lingering doubts. 45.
Not the guilt. 44.
Not the twisted memories of Gale. 43.
She would do this right this time. 42.
She would bring Peeta home. 41.
Even if he went home alone. 40.
She breathed in the smell of sweet wildflowers. 39.
The woods beckoned her. 38.
They were the only home she'd ever truly known. 37.
They would be her strength here. 36.
They would ensure she was not useless to her tribute. 35.
Her limbs were almost eager. 34.
As though her body was alight with anticipation. 33.
Excitement. 32.
She felt sick. 31.
She couldn't want something as horrific as all this. 30.
But deep inside, she thought she did. 29.
She thought this horror—28—this massacre, is the only thing she was truly good at. 27.
And she would make good use of it. 26.
She would win for Peeta. 25.
Because Haymitch was right. 24.
Good people didn't win the Games. 23.
But she was not a good person. 22.
She could win. 21.
She could save the boy with the bread. 20.
She could bring someone home. 19.
She didn't mean to. 18.
But she caught Johanna's eye. 17.
Johanna was dangerous. 16.
Johanna was deadly. 15.
Johanna knew her tribute must die. 14.
To save Katniss'. 13.
Johanna knew, too. 12.
If she were a better person—11—she would let Johanna win. 10.
But she wasn't. 9.
Because she needed Peeta to go home. 8.
And the little girl was only twelve. 7.
But she had to die. 6.
She had to. 5.
And Johanna wouldn't let her. 4.
And Katniss wouldn't let Peeta. 3.
And there wasn't any point in trying. 2.
They'd both already lost.
1.
The canon sounded. She leapt from her plate and ran—she was faster than the others—to the treeline at her right. She had to find Peeta, and she prayed that she would never see the death of the little girl from Seven.
…
They were at a slight disadvantage. The Cornucopia was picked clean, not a weapon left. No food, no water, no supplies. The Careers and what few lucky souls had managed to snatch a couple precious morsels had made damn sure there was nothing left. They had intended to keep it from other tributes, not their mentors, but then, no one had anticipated the Quarter Quell twist.
They really should have.
Ultimately, it would have made only the slightest of differences to most. Now, they were all tributes again, and only six mentors had taken the bold step to ally with just one of their tributes.
Maybe it was better no one had known about the Quell in advance.
Katniss tried desperately not to shiver as the flashbacks threatened to engulf her. This time, things would be different. They had to be. She couldn't survive a repeat.
Despite their obvious handicap, the mentors had at least one thing going for them: they had watched the first forty-eight hours of the game. They knew who was still alive, who was dead. Who was allied—had even set up said alliances—and who was working solo. Where their camps were, what their strategies were. But most importantly, they knew the arena.
No, these second time tributes wouldn't be so easily exterminated.
Because no matter what else, they had one more advantage. They had all already played the Games before.
Ignoring the dread threatening to drag her down into the depths of Hell, Katniss tried to strategize with what few precious moments she had left before entering the arena. There were no more weapons in the Cornucopia. So no point to linger. The others could fight it out hand-to-hand if they chose, but she was smaller than the rest. Her strengths lie in cleverness, speed, and a bow and arrow. None would do her much good here. Which meant the first course of action was flee. Running to the Career camp while it was still empty might be a solid plan, were it not for the strong likelihood that she wouldn't be the only one headed there.
The original tributes didn't know of their mentors' reentrance into the Games. Not yet, though they would find out soon enough. The Careers would be unsuspecting. They would also have all the supplies from the Cornucopia at their camp, loosely guarded at best.
Katniss very much doubted these facts had gone unnoticed by her fellow mentors.
So, she would have to be more clever. Think of a roundabout way to get supplies. She could survive in the forest as she had in her last Game, but last time her goal had been survival only. This time, her mission was different. Saving Peeta would require an offensive plan at the ready.
Although the Game's alteration allowed for both mentor and tribute the chance to survive, Katniss was not a fool. She understood the potential for this to backfire. Tributes sacrificing mentors... mentors sacrificing tributes... all for the sake of winning, of survival. Because Katniss knew that two people trying to survive was a lot harder than a single person or a large group. Two people became a hindrance, two people became a burden. Two people became their own weakness.
If that wasn't enough, tributes would now have to fight very specifically against the counterpart from their own district. Not everyone would have a mentor from their district there, putting them at a very serious disadvantage, but those who did would have to fight amongst themselves to earn their mentor's favor. Madge and Peeta were both still alive. Would they fight to win her favor?
These facts made her face the possibility that Peeta and herself might not make it out alive. She had to plan for her own death—and Madge's—if only to ensure that Peeta didn't quickly follow her.
She wouldn't go down without a fight; it wasn't in her nature. But Peeta might, if he felt like the price would be Madge.
Silently she cursed him. Why did he have to love her?
…
Thankfully, Katniss had been paying very close attention to Peeta throughout the first forty-eight hours. It was her job, she reasoned, to keep an eye on him and monitor his progress as the Games progressed. Certainly, it had never occurred to her that she would need to know his exact location in order to find him in the arena, but it would help her now. The last image she had seen of him was at the top of the cliff he had somehow managed to scale. It was by the ruins where Spencer had died. He had been trailing the dry riverbed as best he could, in search of water and hopefully food, and if his movements had been steady he would be a ways from there by now. Probably, he had taken shelter to rest—he hadn't been looking too good last she saw of him—which meant he was curled beneath a bush somewhere in the forest, somewhere north-easterly in the arena.
That meant Katniss had to head deeper into the forest at her right. There were hills and somewhat noticeable landmarks that she could recall, but the forest had been pretty regular from what she could tell. It wouldn't be easy to find him—the arena was more like a maze, really—especially in the dark. But she was a good huntress, and that included tracking. Peeta as her prey, she began her search, hoping to find him before any of the other mentors got some nasty ideas into their heads.
First, she put some major distance between herself and the other mentors.
Her biggest concern was Brutus and Gloss. Of the two, they would prove the most deadly as they had the first time around, and they seemed to have a particular interest in kicking her ass. Probably because of Marvel and Cato. That meant that Brutus was gunning for her. She had really been the only thing standing between Cato and victory three years ago.
After about an hour of running and dodging through the forest, she deemed herself far enough away to begin truly hunting. She glanced up at a sturdy looking tree and began her climb. With a higher vantage point, she could get a better grasp of where she was in the arena—and keep an eye out for anyone that might have been following.
She didn't think the two ex-Careers would ally together, but at the same time she wouldn't put it passed them. It was difficult to tell what the other mentors would do; this was an unprecedented situation. But if she had to pair up the mentors in alliances, she could see Brutus and Gloss together. Finnick and Johanna had always had a sort of weird relationship, but they were close, so they might also be allied. And Seeder was a wildcard. She could go either way, and Katniss wasn't sure which would be better for her and Peeta in the end.
Finding a solid branch to hold her weight, Katniss took a sitting position and began looking around.
Maybe she should have taken the time to talk to them before entering the arena. That would have been the smart thing to do, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Talking to Finnick about joining forces only so they could stab each other in the back... No. She would do this alone. She didn't need anymore friends dying because of her.
In the distance, she thought she spotted it. That little dip in the treetops that suggested there were no trees at all. As though they just dropped off... Like into a basin.
Glancing down to make sure no one was there, Katniss quietly scaled back down, keeping in mind her general direction.
She had to find Peeta.