Everything is quiet and dark. Peaceful.
I come to, choking up water onto the ground. "Katniss! Katniss!" Peeta's voice pierces into my consciousness. "Oh my god, Katniss!" Peeta's voice is strangled. His hands are in my hair, on my face. He pulls me into his chest. I cry out in pain and he pulls back with a flinch. I watch him eyeing my body, his fingers running over me, looking for blood. "Are you hurt?"
I regain my bearings. My abdomen is throbbing. Peeta is bent over me, hair dripping wet, panic evident on his face. I squint and look past him, trying to take in my surroundings. The Cornucopia looks like it's on an island. I realize we are on one of what appears to be ten or twelve strips of stone and gravel connecting the Cornucopia to the mainland, almost like spokes coming out of a wheel. Between each spoke are two tribute plates. My mind starts coming into focus when I notice Finnick charging down the spoke toward us. I try to push myself in front of Peeta, but there isn't much I can do.
"Can you shoot?" Finnick asks, shoving a bow and arrow into my hands. What is happening? I'm woozy, but I force myself up and nod. I give Peeta a discerning look and take the bow when I notice a gold bangle flash on Finnick's wrist. "Good thing we're Allies, sweetheart." Finnick says, noticing my eyes on his wrist. Haymitch. I briefly consider that Finnick may have stolen the item, but I dismiss the thought quickly. Sweetheart. This is an order. Trust Finnick.
"Better duck then," I state, and he hits the ground. I send an arrow flying down the spoke at Brutus, who is barreling toward us. My vision is still blurry and the arrow plants in his shoulder. He stumbles and drops into the water.
"We need to take the Cornucopia before the Careers do," Finnick orders. His voice is so different from his usual seductive purr that I'm taken aback for a moment. He's clearly already made a trip and shoves weapons into our hands. "Don't trust One and Two."
"Let's each take one side," Peeta offers and we take off running toward the Cornucopia. Pain. Pain. Pain. I force myself forward, but when I reach the island I drop to my knees and vomit off the side.
"Katniss!" Peeta stops and drops down next to me.
I spit bile into the salt water. It's not blood this time. Good. This is just a reaction to the pain. Peeta looks at me. What happened? he desperately asks with his eyes. "Morning sickness," I answer his gaze. It means I can't tell you. It means move.
He nods and takes to his feet, dashing to the far side of the island. I do the same. "Do you see anything over there?" I call out. "Food? Supplies?"
"Weapons, it's nothing but weapons," Finnick hollers back. "There's no point in staying here. Grab what you want and let's go!" There seems to be a moment of respite. Leaving the tribute plate requires swimming, and not everyone can. There was no pool in the training rooms. You either entered the Arena knowing how to swim, or you better be a fast learner. I scan the water and see some tributes still stranded. I could easily pick them off now with my arrows. I shake the thought from my head. Peeta spent months forcing me to think like a Career, but we didn't mean that. I'm not shooting the helpless.
"How did you get here?" I ask Peeta.
"I swam," he replies, eyes on the perimeter.
"You don't know how to swim," I yell back.
"Gale showed me in the pond behind Thom's house," Peeta answers.
"You can't swim in that thing. It's barely three feet deep. It's really just a puddle, Peeta," I retort.
"I never said I was good at it," he chuckles, but the smile fades from his lips immediately. Whatever break we had is over. Enobaria reaches a spoke and immediately starts sprinting toward the Cornucopia. I send an arrow flying and she ducks it before she trips and falls back in.
It happens so fast I almost miss it. I barely catch the movement in my periphery. Peeta throws a knife at Gloss, who narrowly escapes the blade, when the man from District 9 emerges from the water and wraps his arms around Peeta's feet. Peeta slams to the ground hard and the man drags him off and pulls him into the water.
"Peeta!" I scream, and they struggle for a minute before both going under. I nock an arrow but I have no target. My heart slams in my ears. "Peeta!" I throw my bow and arrow to the ground and run toward him, readying myself to dive in, but by this point Finnick has reached me and pulls me back before I can leap into the water.
"Let me get him!" Finnick says as his arms wrap around my waist. I scream in agony. He drops me immediately. "Katniss, how hurt are you?" he asks, but it doesn't register. All I know is the water has gone still. I scan the surface frantically and a cannon booms. I stop breathing. This can't really be how it ends. A body bobs to the surface, static and lifeless. I can't tell who it is, and I feel sick. My head starts to split when suddenly Peeta resurfaces, gasping for air. We pull him back up and I wrap my arms protectively around his neck. Looking around quickly I see we're no longer alone. Finnick hurls his trident and it lands squarely in the chest of the District 5 male with a thud. I grab my bow just in time to see Gloss and let an arrow fly, which lodges in his calf. He falls back into the water.
We three cannot hold the Cornucopia alone, though, and Finnick has clearly reached the same conclusion. "We've got to go," Finnick orders and we agree. He scans the shore and points toward a silver head bobbing near the beach. He takes off after it and we follow suit. We run down the spoke for a moment, but realize quickly we're easy targets as darts and blades zip past us. We turn and dive. Peeta is barely able to keep his head above water, but we make it to shore. Peeta coughs and sputters, having taken in half a lung's worth of salt water on the journey.
"You call that swimming?" I ask with a smile.
He laughs through a cough. "I never said I was good at it," Peeta chokes out. We're together. We're alive. That's about as far as the plan goes.
Finnick rushes forward and embraces Mags. I give him a sideways look. Why would he align himself with her? He's a Career. He's supposed to be ruthless. He catches me staring and turns quickly defensive. "We are not leaving Mags behind."
"I have no problem with Mags. Especially now that I see the Arena. She's probably our best chance at a meal," I start, but Finnick seems on edge, shifting his body protectively in front of the old woman.
"Katniss wanted her on the first day," Peeta adds, and it seems to improve the dynamic.
"Katniss has remarkably good judgment," Finnick replies. With one arm he reaches down and scoops Mags onto his back as if she weighs nothing. "Come on," he orders, eyeing the Cornucopia, which is now overrun with the Career pack like ants on a piece of fallen food. I almost ask Finnick to wait as I spy Beetee still stranded on his disc, but for all I know, Finnick would kill him on the spot. We take off running into the woods. Finnick carries Mags on his back and her head bounces aimlessly as his feet thud on the forest floor.
Distance. We all have the same goal in mind.
I push the pain aside and run. These woods are not my own. A word pops into my head, almost foreign sounding, but I know what this is. Jungle. The flora is unfamiliar; the trees have smooth bark and high branches. The air is thick and hot, and it becomes immediately apparent that finding water needs to become a priority. Sweat beads and drips from our bodies like a glass of ice water sweating on a hot summer day. Peeta and I have been training, though, and Finnick is in pique physical condition. We are able to put miles behind us and the beach in a short time, but soon the vegetation becomes too thick to continue running. Peeta takes the lead, cutting a path for us with his long knife. I allow Finnick to follow second because he's got his hands full with Mags. I take the rear, my eyes burning as I keep watch. The ground pitches upward, and by the top of the hill we are all gasping for air.
We decide to take a break, although it's really more for Mags. The rest of us could push forward if we had to. Peeta approaches me, his voice low, his fingers ghosting my stomach. His brow is distraught. He wants to know what happened. I shake my head vehemently. If I say anything Snow will burn my house down. Prim isn't safe until I'm dead.
"How did I get out of the water?" I ask.
"Finnick had just surfaced with you by the time I got there, and I pulled you out," Peeta replies. "I couldn't see you right away, but I heard someone screaming your name."
"Finnick?" I ask.
"No, Finnick was only a few plates over from me. He couldn't see you either. It was a woman. I think it might have been Johanna," he replies. That makes no sense. "I think she was telling Finnick to get to you. I'm not sure anyone else would have been able to save you. I know I couldn't have, even if I'd reached you when he did." Peeta stares at his hands.
"Why would Finnick do that? I mean, I get Haymitch set up an alliance, but…" He should have let me drown. One less tribute to kill later. Peeta just shakes his head. I wish it were just us. I wish I could rest my head on my knees for one second. Instead, I stare at Finnick's back as he kneels in front of Mags.
"I want to get a better look," I announce and take to the nearest tree. Peeta watches me carefully from the ground. Stretching for each branch makes my sides scream, but I keep my face even. I can't show the cameras any more weakness. No one will sponsor us if they think we'll be dead by sunrise. By the time I reach the top, though, I wish I hadn't.
Around the Cornucopia, the salt lake appears to be bleeding. Bodies lie on the ground and float in the water. The Careers clearly had no qualms about taking out every stranded tribute. The battle doesn't appear to be over, with figures moving violently on the shore. I remember last night, our hands joined in unity. What did I think? That we'd form some kind of truce in the Arena? No, but I thought maybe we'd show some restraint. Less glee in slaying one another. Maybe we'd avoid a massacre. And you all acted like friends, I think bitterly. I only have one friend here, and he's not from District 4.
I make up my mind. I need to take out Finnick. It's too risky to have him this close to Peeta. I could easily shoot him in the back as we walk. It's despicable yes, but is it better if I wait? Owe him more? I already owe him my life, but I certainly don't owe him Peeta. When I drop to the ground, though, it seems like Finnick is already one step ahead of me. As if he knew how what I saw might affect me. His hand rests on the trident with feigned casualness.
"What did you see up there?" he asks cavalierly. "Was everyone holding hands? Singing songs? Did they throw all the weapons in the sea and swear a vow of nonviolence?"
"No," I reply bitterly. I don't like being this transparent. I've never had anyone read me the way he does.
"No. Because no one in here is a Victor by chance, Katniss," Finnick pauses for a second. "Except for maybe Peeta."
Peeta looks like he's taken some offense, but Finnick has realized what I've known for a long time. What Haymitch knows. What every victor knows. Peeta is better than the rest of us. Finnick and I stare at one another. My fingertips dance lightly on my bow, and I calculate in my mind if I could nock and shoot an arrow before his trident hits my chest. I don't need to survive this, I just need to make sure he doesn't either. The air between us thickens, each waiting for the other to blink, when Peeta steps in the middle. He's not blind to what's happening here. He's just more trusting by nature than I am.
"Let's move," he orders, and the tension dissipates like a drop of blood in a tub of water. Fine. I'll kill him later. Peeta resumes the lead, slashing the thick plants with his blade, and we take up our journey.
"Everyone keep your eyes out for water," I add as we push forward, but there's nothing. We move about another mile, and I can see the tree line coming to an end. We must be cresting a hill. "Maybe there's water on the other side," I call out, and Peeta persists forward.
But there is no other side.
A glint catches my eye. I think maybe it's the dehydration or my mind playing tricks on me, but I see it, almost as if it's floating through in thin air. A blurry square. A chink in the armor.
Peeta raises his blade.