Jackal panted in pain, clutching his stomach. He was leaning against a tree, his skin pale. This wasn't how it was meant to be, it was meant to be fun, he was meant to be the hunter, not... not this! "Just a stab wound... you've had worse..." Jackal said to himself, breathing hard. "Why... why the hell does it hurt so much!" he exclaimed, cursing as he lifted himself to his feet. He stumbled forward before grabbing another tree, trying to keep himself up. "Fuckin' fuck!"
Jackal spat out blood, edging forward, tree to tree. Eventually he made it to the clearing which would lead either to the town or the military base. He stared out to the still cloudy sky, before stepping forward out to the clearing.
It was then that a shadow cast its way across the early morning sun. Jackal saw some kind of bird flying in the air, peaceful and free. Jackal snorted and continued stumbling his way across the field, feeling weak.
"Little bird, what say you?" Jackal muttered to himself as he walked. "Woodpecker, how shall I act?"
XXX
"I am not a threat. Please talk."
The small girl with large blue eyes looked up. She couldn't have been more than ten, though she was thin and dressed only in a ripped white dress, covered in grim and all sorts. She sat huddled in the corner, refusing to look up to the young boy known as Jackal. Jackal frowned, rubbing a hand through his red hair.
"Why don't you talk? Are you mute?"
The little girl shook her head.
"Then do you have a name?"
Again the little girl shook her head.
"Most of us are nameless. I'm Jackal, though that's not my real name. I think you should be called Woodpecker. How does that sound?"
The little girl, Woodpecker, let out a small smile. "Wo-od... peck...er?" she said in cracked English.
"That's right. Woodpecker. That's you." Jackal sat down, crossing his arms. "How did you get here little Woodpecker? This is a bad neighbourhood for small girls, that's for certain."
Woodpecker pouted, and looked away.
"We don't have to talk, though I'm not going to move until you do so." Jackal yawned. "I'm stubborn like that." Jackal looked to Woodpecker, who was still sitting with her head turned away. "How 'bout I tell you a story, and then you give me a story in turn? This story is about a little boy with parents who beat him, and who had no friends. The boy's name was Drago, though he doesn't exist anymore. Drago was a sad boy, living in a nation who didn't allow free speech, much like Panem. However unlike Panem, they liked to kill and torture the poor, not let them live. These people were horrid. They were bullies. One day, Drago decided enough was enough. He killed his parents out of fury as they didn't want him to leave. Drago laughed over their corpses, before he left for the docks. Drago was a small boy in a big world, with looming cranes and monster-like machinery. However, Drago felt confident and brave, looking away over the murky water. Drago imagined what a different life would be like, he imagined himself a big burly man, who wasn't afraid of anything. A man with his own country, with his own people. A man who wouldn't show any weakness to its kingdom. So Drago managed to sneak on a trading ship from a different nation, thinking of his future. Drago came to the nation of Panem, and soon found they were almost the same as his old home. Yet Drago could live in the backstreets, and he heard all about the Hunger Games. Drago decided to take on a new identity, he decided he didn't want to be known as Drago anymore. A name of the past. He would take a new name, and he would participate in the Hunger Games as someone new. He would get the prize money, and he would form his own kingdom on an Island far away. That was Drago's dream, and dream he still wants to live out."
"Are... you Dr-ago?" Woodpecker asked with wide eyes.
"No. That may have been my past, but I am not Drago anyone. However I follow his dream for his own country. When I'm big and strong, I'm going to be the King!" Jackal grinned. "That's why I be the leader of gangs, so that I can be my own King. What about you, little bird? I've given you a story, how about you tell me one?"
"I... do-on't have a story..." Woodpecker frowned. "I do-on't have pa-arents... or bro-others... I live... on the stre-ets. Always."
Jackal stood up, offering a hand. "Let's make you a story then, shall we little Woodpecker? Why don't you start by living with us? Become a part of history, Woodpecker!"
Woodpecker grinned wider than before. "Sto-ory? Yes! Yes, sto-ory!"
XXX
Jackal found himself on the ground as he remembered little Woodpecker, blood leaking out from under the strap. His arms trembled and legs shook, but he stayed on all fours, staring down at the ground. "What would you do if you knew, little bird? What would you do if I broke my promise?"
XXX
"You're lying! You're lying! It can't be... you're lying!" Jackal screamed, his eyes wide.
"Jackal, please. We wouldn't lie to our boss, would we?" One of the younger boys said, shaking in fear.
"Where is she... show me or I'll know you are lying!" Jackal said, causing the boy to nod and start walking away. Jackal followed through the backstreets before they stopped at the base of a tall apartment building. A grimy white sheet lay at the bottom, covering a frail figure.
Jackal stumbled over and fell to his knees, his red hair covering his dry eyes. He carefully peeled back the sheet, before he let out a gasp, letting the sheet drop. Jackal clutched a hand to his mouth, his eyes wide, but still dry. "Why... Woodpecker, why?"
"We tried to stop her." One of the boys said. "But she said that she wanted to fly away to find a free country... she said... she said that she wanted to give it you for your birthday."
Jackal stared at Woodpecker's body. "You foolish little bird... why? You cannot fly... was it me? Was it because I often talked about flying away to find our country? Little Woodpecker... I'll find that country you sought, and I'll found it in your honour. I'll get into this year's Games, I'll win and travel to my country with the rest of the backstreet! We'll make a statue and put it right in the middle, and every day we'll have an hour of silence to honour you and... an..." Jackal sniffled, his eyes finally releasing the pent up tears. "I'll win for you little bird. I promise you, I'll win for you!"
XXX
Now tears fell onto the grass , glistening like morning dew. Jackal was smiling despite crying. The months of training, of changing himself so he was able to be the Hunter, so he could kill and track and more importantly... win... all for his little bird. "I'm sorry... Woodpecker..." Jackal said, before his arms finally collapsed and he fell onto the lush grass. "...I'll fly with you... up where you are..."
At the final breath, Jackal became the first of the top ten to succumb to the Games.
(The first of the Capitol Tributes goes down. Sorry to Jackal. Anywho, thanks to Percival-Jones for the review, and I'll see yo next time.
