Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, or Heroes of Olympus. They belong to their respective owners: Suzanne Collins and Rick Riordan.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The morning air is warm enough, but Dahlia feels cold as she gathers her things together. Diamond and Mica are trapped in a Capitol and it's all Dahlia's fault. Worse than that, it's all her fault and she can't do anything about it. She's as trapped as they are, just in a more...public way.
Dahlia carefully puts her backpack on and looks down at the ground. When she doesn't see anything worrying, she starts to climb down the tree, tense, listening to even the slightest sound. It's because she's listening so hard that she suddenly notices the birdsong.
So there are animals here.
Dahlia jumps from the tree and lands with a soft thump, then looks around for signs that anyone's here. She finds none, but that doesn't put her mind at ease.
She allows herself a little bit of the dried fruit, then sets out to find water. There has to be some somewhere around here, or this Games wouldn't be fun for viewers at all. They'd just be watching all the tributes slowly die of thirst.
She searches everywhere in the park, until she finds a little creek, which she kneels next to and pulls out her water canteen.
She doesn't have a water purifier, but the water is running quickly and, when she sticks her finger in, just for a moment, she discovers that it's cold. That's a good sign. So she fills her canteen with the creek water, then allows herself a sip. She caps the canteen and sticks it in her pack again, then zips it up. Just as she's standing, though, she hears a twig snap in the woods close by. She tenses up and slowly turns around.
Calling out probably wouldn't be the best idea, she decides. So she just walks toward the sound as silently as she can, avoiding twigs and leaves.
She hears another snap, closer now, and dodges behind the nearest tree. She peers cautiously around the tree.
For a few seconds, she sees nothing but trees and grass. Then someone appears, and she draws back a little.
She watches them, studies them. Her eyes drift up to their face and she has to bite back a gasp. It's Adair.
How lucky could she be? But then she thinks, Exactly. Just running into him like this... It's a little too good to be true, isn't it?
But surely the Games aren't so boring already that the Gamemakers are starting on traps. They've only been in the arena for a day. The Careers are probably still keeping audiences plenty entertained.
At least, that's what Dahlia's hoping.
She steels herself and whispers, "Adair."
Adair freezes, terror written all over his face. His hand goes for his waist, and Dahlia notices the knife there for the first time. Where in Hades did he get a knife? is her first thought. And her second one is, Stupid! I should've noticed the knife before.
"Who's there?" Adair grips his knife nervously. His voice is very soft, very shaky. That, coupled with the fact that he's holding the knife the wrong way, makes him look anything but threatening.
"It's just me." Dahlia takes a deep breath and steps out from behind the tree, hands held up to show she has no weapons. Adair's eyes dart to her face, and he relaxes, but only a little.
"Dahlia." Some emotion flits across his features-relief? "You're okay." Okay, definitely relief.
"Yeah," she agrees. "So are you."
Adair's still holding his dagger out. It's making Dahlia nervous. She reaches out and carefully takes the knife from his hand. "Let's put this away, okay?" And she stuffs it in her pack. There. Now she has a weapon.
"I was looking for you." Adair looks nervous again. His hand is still clenched, like he's still holding the knife. Maybe he doesn't like that she took it?
"Well, you found me." Dahlia studies him. "Are you okay? You look a little...stressed."
Adair laughs, which seems to break the awkwardness around them, though the sound is a little shaky. "Stressed? Yeah, you could say that. We're in the freaking Hunger Games."
Well...yeah. Dahlia knows that. But she doesn't feel scared right now, standing in these woods talking to Adair. She feels more...calm. The wilderness is her home turf after all, and this place could be the woods back at camp. She could simply be playing a game of capture-the-flag.
Except, well, Adair wouldn't be there, and she'd be wearing armor instead of a backpack. And she'd probably have a weapon a bit stronger than a dagger. But she tries not to focus on that.
Dahlia shrugs. "Do you know where Barric is?"
"No." Adair's expression sours, and his hand goes from gripping an imaginary knife to a full-blown fist. "I wanted to make sure you were okay first."
"Why?" Dahlia shakes her head. "You saw the pictures last night, right? I wasn't one of them."
"But that didn't mean you weren't hurt."
Dahlia's a little surprised. Adair had been worried about her, enough to come looking for her? This doesn't exactly fit the norm for him. Maybe the Hunger Games is messing with his brain, or something.
She shrugs that off and looks around nervously. The birds are quiet, and Dahlia doesn't want to wait around to find out why. "We need to get out of here," she says softly.
They set out.
The day is mostly uneventful. Dahlia and Adair show each other their supplies (Adair has three knives, including the one in Dahlia's backpack). Then they mostly focus on getting far away from the cornucopia. Dahlia would much rather stay in the park, but she knows it's probably too dangerous. She ignores the fatigue she feels when she steps out of the forest, but it's pretty bad, if only for a little while. Concrete is everywhere, with very little plantlife.
She's heard that demigods always feel strongest in their parents' elements, and she supposes that must be true, based on her experiences now.
She can't share any of this with Adair, of course, but he notices how she stumbles a little as they leave the park. He just steadies her and they keep walking.
Once they hear a cannon, and they both freeze. Dahlia finds herself thinking, Nine dead. Fifteen left. I hope that wasn't Barric...
Adair snaps out of it first. "Come on," he says brusquely, acting a bit more like himself now. He trudges off, and Dahlia doesn't have much choice but to follow.
When night falls, they make camp in a building that looks reasonably intact. Dahlia is fairly sure it won't collapse on top on them. They don't build a fire, but share some of Dahlia's dried fruit and a few sips from her water canteen.
When they're done with that lavish meal, the anthem starts, and both their heads immediately snap up to look out the window at the open sky.
The picture that shows up on the screen isn't Barric. It's the girl from District Three.
After the anthem plays again and the night is dark and silent again, Dahlia and Adair look at each other.
"Fifteen left," Dahlia says, trying to sound casual, not scared out of her mind like she really is.
"Yeah. Nine dead." Adair's voice is a lot more casual than hers. He looks down at his hands. "We should probably get some sleep."
"Yeah," Dahlia whispers. "I guess I'll take first watch..." She doesn't want to go to sleep, anyway. Not if it means more dreams.
Adair frowns, but he nods. He takes off his backpack, rests his head on it, and is asleep in a few seconds.
Dahlia's back stays straight and rigid. She carefully unzips her own backpack and takes out the knife she took from Adair earlier. Then she zips it back up, puts it on, and sits as tight against the wall as she can manage. She scans the room for dangers and possible escape routes. She has a bad feeling. Things have been almost too easy for her so far. She got water, she found Adair, she even got her hands on a knife. She hasn't run into a single problem (well, unless she counts bad dreams, but she doesn't), and it's been an entire two days in the arena now. There's no way her luck can hold. Especially now. There was only one cannon today. The Gamemakers will be looking for ways to spice things up, keep the audience entertained.
Which means awful things are coming for Dahlia and the other tributes.
Dahlia glances down at Adair, who's still fast asleep. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep, almost sweet. (Dahlia quickly shies away from this thought. She will not think of Adair as sweet.) His mouth hangs open a little, and a lock of his jet-black hair hangs across his face, cutting it in half.
Dahlia thinks of that picture on the wall in Chiron's office. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase. Percy's hair was a lot like Adair's, a little bit shaggy, a little bit messy, and very, very dark.
Dahlia looks away from her tribute partner and starts searching the dark room again. Something feels wrong here.
Would the Gamemakers attack at night? Maybe, but surely there aren't many people to entertain at night. The audience has to sleep at some point, right?
But of course that doesn't mean she and Adair are safe. The Gamemakers may be doing it all for the Capitolites' enjoyment, but the Careers couldn't care less when prime time is. They're probably out hunting right now, when the other tributes are the most vulnerable.
Something moves in her peripheral vision, and instantly her eyes dart toward it. But it's only Adair, turning his head. Dahlia allows herself to relax just a little, then returns to her vigil.
Then she hears a sound outside the window, and she carefully spins around, gets up on her knees, and peers out the window.
She sucks in her breath at the sight outside.
It's the Careers. Slate, Castle- every single one of them stands on the street outside. Dahlia lowers herself just a little more, but keeps watching.
Castle appears to be agitated. He's raking his hands through his hair. His lips are moving, seeming to form a string of profanity. Dahlia wonders what's making him so upset.
Slate, who's blond hair is now significantly shorter, goes over to Castle and puts a hand on his arm. He seems to whisper a few words of condolence, and Castle calms down just a little. He pushes Slate off and turns to the rest of the group.
Dahlia can hear him now.
"Tonight's been...difficult," he says, and the other Careers- who seem to be pretty frustrated- nod in agreement. "But they have to be out here somewhere. We'll find them."
The other Careers don't look so sure, but they nod anyway.
Castle says a bunch of other things, probably meant to sound encouraging and supportive, but he sounds as uncertain as the others look.
During Castle's speech, Slate stands right next to him, but he seems to be paying no attention whatsoever. His eyes wander around the street, seemingly aimless, but Dahlia can see the sharpness of his gaze, the calculating look in his eyes, as if the whole world is one big equation.
Those eyes scare her, but she can't seem to look away.
And that's her mistake. In their trip around the street, Slate's green eyes catch her brown ones. It's only for a brief second- Dahlia ducks down quickly- but it's enough. His eyes widen even as Dahlia hurries to hide, and she knows she has to get out of there.
She glances down at Adair, then curses under breath. With one hand, she covers up his mouth, and with the other, she shakes him roughly.
His eyes flicker open. She can see the drowsiness in them. Dahlia's hand muffles his voice as he asks, "What are you doing?"
"We have to get out of here," Dahlia whispers quickly. "Right now. Careers. Slate saw me. Come on!"
Adair's eyes widen, and he carefully sits up. He pulls on his backpack, and together he and Dahlia head for the closest exit.
Dahlia can hear footsteps approaching. She hears soft voices enjoying the moment, the chance to hunt.
Dahlia and Adair make it out of the building just as the Careers get it. Then they get to their feet and set off, attempting to combine running and tiptoeing as they make their way down the alley between their building and the one next to it.
Dahlia grips her knife tightly, glancing behind them to make sure no one is following them.
Strangely, no one seems to be, though Dahlia can hear the shouts of frustration behind them. "Where is she? You said she was here!"
And then Slate's voice, cool and calm and terrifying, cuts through the cacophony. "She was. Don't worry, we'll find her. Spread out. She can't be far."
Dahlia and Adair go faster.
"Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" he whispers.
"There wasn't a problem earlier. Now, move it and shush."
"Bossy." Adair mutters under his breath.
"We're being chased by a pack of Careers." Dahlia keeps her voice as quiet as possible. "Heck yeah, I'm being bossy."
That makes Adair shut up. Finally.
They get out of the alley, and Adair slams to a stop. Dahlia almost crashes into him, but stops herself just in time.
"What are you doing?" she hisses directly into his ear, her voice barely more than a breath.
Adair discreetly waves his hand toward the street, and Dahlia peeks around him. She quickly covers her mouth to muffle her gasp. Slate and Castle are right there, no more than fifteen feet away. She and Adair have no chance of getting out without being seen.
Instead, she pulls Adair back into the darkness. Then she flattens herself against the wall and crouches down, dragging Adair with her.
"Try to stay still," she breathes, and Adair nods.
Of course, it turns out to be harder for Dahlia to manage this than Adair.
But it's only until Slate and Castle get out of their way. Assuming they don't come into the alley... There's no way Slate wouldn't notice us here, even if Castle doesn't.
Dahlia pushes the thought away quickly and whispers, "Keep an eye on them. We move the second they can't see us anymore."
"How can I tell that?"
"Do your best."
Adair sighs with frustration and, still keeping himself pressed against the wall as much as possible, peers outside.
Long minutes pass, each feeling like an hour. Dahlia fidgets more and more each second.
Then, finally, Adair starts to turn toward her, his mouth already forming whatever his next words are. Probably something like, "Let's go."
But then his eyes widen a little, and he flattens himself back against the wall. Dahlia's eyebrows furrow in confusion, but Adair doesn't offer any explanation besides a tense glance further into the darkness.
Dahlia glances deeper into the alley, but doesn't see anything. So she listens hard, and hears footsteps coming down the alley.
Please not Slate. Anyone but Slate, she prays silently.
The footsteps get louder, and Dahlia's body tenses up.
She and Adair sit perfectly still. It's only seconds until the people (Or maybe it's only one person. Dahlia can't tell who it is; she doesn't dare risk looking up to check) walk past, but to Dahlia it seems like forever.
Luckily, they don't seem to notice her or Adair. They tromp past, seeming to be in a rush. Dahlia watches as they burst into the street. She hears footsteps retreating, then faint cries float back to her.
"Slate, there's no one here. We're wasting our time. We need to get back to camp."
Dahlia and Adair look at each other.
"Now?" Dahlia whispers.
Adair gets down on his hands and knees and crawls out of the alley a little. He looks down the street in both directions, then nods back at her. "They're a long way down, and not looking toward us, as far as I can tell." He glances across the street, as if gauging the distance. "Run fast, and they probably won't notice us."
Dahlia carefully rises out of her crouch. "Alright," she whispers. "Let's go."
Adair gets up, too. Together, they dart across the street and into an open doorway in another abandoned building. Once inside, they both starting toward whatever back exit might exist. They both know they have to get farther away from here.
They tiptoe-run again, as they make their getaway, darting through alleys and buildings. Once or twice, Dahlia even climbs up to higher floors to see if anyone is following them. Once, she thinks she sees someone, and they move to avoid them, but it's mostly quiet.
Still, Dahlia and Adair don't stop running till they're six or seven blocks down. Then they walk at a brisk pace through more alleys and buildings, looking for a good place to spend the rest of the night.
Eventually, they find a good building. Five of its levels are completely intact, and Dahlia can't tell if there was ever any more. Not like it matters.
She and Adair go inside. Adair goes to put his backpack on the ground, but Dahlia puts her hand on his arm. "Not here. Follow me."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
She looks for the stairs and finds them fairly easily. Adair looks nervous, but he follows her all the way up to the fifth floor. She moves toward the front of the room, next to a window, and says, "Right here."
Adair nervously takes off his backpack. "Right," he says, "but, Dahli, isn't it kind of dangerous to be up here? I mean, ruins at all."
"Does it look like this place is threatening to fall down?"
"Well, no, but..."
"Then we're staying."
Dahlia glances out the window, sees nothing, and sets her backpack down. She hands her knife to Adair. "Your turn to keep watch."
"Okay... Goodnight." Adair sits down next to his backpack.
"I hope so," Dahlia mutters under her breath as she rests her head on her backpack and closes her eyes.
She thinks she's too on edge to sleep, anyway, but her body disagrees. It takes a few minutes, but she falls asleep.
