A/N: I am so sorry for the long absence, and with a little cliffhanger waiting at that! I'm a terrible person :P Ummm so I think some of the timing of the events are a little off from the actual book, but I am trying my best to stick by the events as closely as I can. If there's mishaps, point them out please! Be as harsh as you can with criticisms :)
It seems so out of place, that flash of orange. Not that fires are uncommon in forests, but there's something about this flicker that screams unnatural. It flares too quickly, scaling the forest floor and engulfing everything in its path. At this rate, it would only be a few meagre minutes before I'm caught up in that fire too. Tugging the straps of my bag to tighten it against my back, I take a deep breath. In. Poise. Out. Jump. It's a neat little pattern, allowing me to focus on just my breathing and my landing. In. Poise. Out. Jump. I can hear the whizzing sounds of something flying through the air, punctuated by electric crackles. Fireballs. Great. Just great. Abandoning my breathing, I leap down from the branch and run.
The brambles underfoot trip me several times, but I regain my balance in time to continue running. Allowing myself one little look backwards as I dodge under some branches, I can see that there's some distance between me and the flames. I don't slow down though; that would be stupid. My arms and legs pump harder, taking me as far away from the fire as possible. My lungs are threatening to explode from exhaustion by the time I allow myself to slow to a jog. It feels like I've been running a marathon around Panem, but the fact that I can no longer smell burning wood makes up for my jellified legs. The only down side is that I have absolutely no idea where I am. I have no clue where the Cornucopia is, no clue where I would be able to find water and food, and no clue where Thresh and his wheat field are.
Not that I care about Thresh's whereabouts. I've been running away from him after all. But it's nice to have an anchor regardless of what happened. Stop it Thresh. Get out of my head. I don't care about you anymore. I don't care. I don't care!
I continue to walk on, keeping to the shadows and travelling in the opposite direction to the fire. It seems like the arena is endless, consisting of grove after grove of trees and nothing else. My stomach is rumbling loudly for some food, but I bite my lips and carry on. Walk for another fifteen minutes and you can have two bites of bread instead of one, I tell myself, Just keep walking. It's not just my stomach protesting though; my parched throat is screaming for some water. The inside of my mouth feels like it's coated in ash, and swallowing saliva only makes me crave water even more. Finally as I reach a sturdy-looking tree in a seemingly empty part of the arena, I let myself stop moving.
"Come on, Rue," I mutter aloud, "Up the tree and you can rest. That's it. Just climb."
The rough bark scratches my palms as I scale the tree, pulling tired arm after exhausted foot up to the highest branch. Resting my back against the trunk, I slide open the zipper on my pack and take out my canteen. It takes me a whole three tries to screw the lid off the water skin because of my sweaty hands and weakened grip, and by the time the water hits my mouth I am about to die with thirst. Only a mouthful though. I roll the water around in my mouth, keeping cool taste on my tongue for as long as possible before swallowing. Never mind hot chocolate and iced orange juice, right now water is heaven for me. Recapping the canteen, I place it back inside my pack and pick out a precious roll of bread. I just want to shove the whole thing in my mouth, but thankfully the logical side of me still has controls over my hands. Shakily I tear the loaf in half, placing one half away and zipping up my bag as quickly as possible. My self control is not that great yet, and I really don't need any more temptations.
After my heart stops pounding at a million miles an hour, I strap the pack back on and slide down the tree. It's still afternoon, with enough light for me to keep moving and scavenging for food. I head away from the direction of my shadow, towards what is hopefully the west of the arena. Pa has shown me that trick with the shadows once, when he took me hunting a few years back. He had said that the sun rises from the east and sets in the west, so in the morning our shadows would point to the west and in the afternoon to the east. And judging from the sunset yesterday, Thresh's field is in the east of the arena. So to get as far away as possible, I am heading west. To where I can just hide and wait. To where I won't be killed, and most importantly to where I won't see anyone die.
Die. The three-lettered word brings to my mind all the things that I've been running away from: the memory of the awful night when Felix died, the sinking feeling of the nightmare that I can't remember and all the guilt and pain of losing someone important to me. Unbidden, Felix's blue eyes appear all around me, in the glimpses of the sky and in every rustle of the leaves. And just as unbidden, I feel Thresh's presence in the wood around me, in the scampering of the squirrels and the flight of the birds. No. No. I cannot afford to think of them. But try as I might, I cannot forget Felix and I cannot hate Thresh. For the first time I realise how complicated growing up is. I'm not even a teenager yet, and already I am so confused and lost. And to think I used to want to grow up as quickly as possible. As a ten-year-old, I had figured that adults earn a lot more and are able to do a lot more, and had wished with all my might to be grown up. Now that wish has come back to bite me on the bum so hard that my rear end is bloody. Well, I finally understand that saying 'Be careful what you wish for'.
I shake my head, trying to get rid of the thoughts about Felix and Thresh. Just focus on the basics, Rue. Think food and water and survival, and nothing else. It sounds so easy, but trying to block out a major part of my mind is one of the hardest things I've ever done. I force myself to think only of my rumbling stomach and dried throat, letting the survival impulses take over my body. Food and water. That's all. Food and water.
I reach a sparser grove of trees as the sun begins to sink into the horizon. A ring of wild berry bushes surround the tall trees, each bush heavy with ripe fruits. My hands yank the berries off the bush faster than I can think, and the ripe blue fruits are halfway to my mouth before I force myself to lower my hand. Don't lose control now, Rue. Test them. See if they're safe. Pinching the berry between my index finger and my thumb, I scrutinise the juice that oozes out of the fruit. Blood red. Scarlet. The colour distinctive to only one kind of berry. This is nightlock that I have in my hands.
My fingers convulse at the thought of nearly eating the poisonous berry, squeezing more nightlock juice all over my palm. As quickly as it clenches, my hand relaxes and drops all the berries to the ground. I scan around my grove frantically to find some source of water, but there's nothing. I have to wash my hand, before I touch something and end up eating it. No water. What will I do? The water in the canteen sloshes around inside my backpack, reminding me that I do have a means to wash my hands, but at what cost? Finally, I exhale and pluck a sizable leaf off the nearest tree. Wiping as much of the nightlock juice off as I can, I bite my lips as I unscrew the canteen with one hand. Pouring a few drops out, I proceed to wash the poison off my hand.
I'm down to a quarter-filled canteen of water by the time my hand is clean again. Determined to find some food, I head over to the bushes again, this time armed with a handful of leaves. Instead of squeezing the berries with my bare hand, I use the leaf as a glove and test out every berry bush. At the fifth bush from the left, the berry juice oozes a deep purple that's typical of blueberries. I gather as many as I can carry, filling my backpack with what will probably be dinner for the next couple of days. Before I go, I jam two twigs into the ground to form a cross in front of the bush. It'll make it easier to find it later.
The night passes in a blur. I set up camp on top of one of the tallest trees in the grove, filling myself with berries and trying to forget about water. The temperature drops sharply as the sun disappears, and even with my jacket zipped up and the extra pair of socks on my hands, I am still shivering. I try to sleep before they play the awful anthem and show the deaths of the day, but it's impossible to sleep through the blaring anthem. At least it's short tonight. Only one death, that of the girl from District Eight. I wonder who killed her. Surely even the tough Careers couldn't raise a weapon against such a slip of a girl? But then again, the Hunger Games makes impossible things possible.
When morning comes, I am feeling like an old prune. My head is pounding from lack of water, and I feel so tired. Digging through my bag, I grab a handful of berries and shove it in my mouth. The cool juice soothes my mouth momentarily, but even after gorging myself with fruit my mouth is parched. I have wanted to save my remaining water for emergencies, but I can't stand it anymore. Taking a long sip, I close my eyes blissfully as the water unclogs my throat. I need to find more water, and fast. If only I am still with Thresh, where there is a ready source of water and food. If only...
But I'm not with Thresh, and so I do the only plausible thing there is to do. I follow the squirrels. Surely they must drink some time, and hopefully they'll be thirsty soon enough so that they'll lead me to some water. It's slow business; the bushy-tailed creatures tend to dash in random directions with no warning, but I'm prepared to wait them out. Eventually the largest squirrel bounds off into a dense patch of trees, and I leap after him. Once I've cleared all the overhanging branches, I am out in the open facing a little waterfall. The rushing sound of water over stones is the sweetest song I've ever heard. The only downside is that I have no purifying tablets. They are all in Thresh's bag, a good god-knows-how-many miles away from me.
The squirrel bends its head to gulp up the clear water, and I watch it. It sounds ridiculous to be jealous of a squirrel, but I am so jealous of its water right now. Instead of leaping away, the squirrel bounds up the nearest tree and stays there. I wait, half expecting it to drop out of the tree stone dead, but after a good half hour nothing happens. Glancing up at the creature busily munching on a nut above me, I take a gamble and scoop up untreated water in my hand.
It feels so good, like cool satin gently soothing my throat. I plunge my face in the water too, getting the roots of my hair sopping wet. But who cares! It feels so damn good and I am grinning like an idiot despite being stuck here in the Hunger Games. I fill up my canteen with the water, drain it down to every last drop and refill it again. The water's not dangerous. The water's not dangerous, and I am not thirsty! This is a feeling that Ma would call Hallelujah. Without realising it, I start to hum the first few bars of that song.
Overhead a chorus of voices echoes back my song. A group of familiar birds open their beaks and add a part into the melody, filling the forest with music. Mockingjays, they have mockingjays here. I hum a little louder, subtly changing the tune to that of my favourite song. They sing it back to me perfectly. It's just like home again.
The mockingjays stay with me for the afternoon, along with a couple of bushy-tailed squirrels. I manage to pick a few handfuls of nuts, and coupled with my water and half a loaf of bread, dinner is a feast tonight. Thresh's stone knife proves to be handy after all, providing the leverage needed for me to crack the nuts open. Instead of leaving the shells, I decide to practice my aim with them. As much as I hate to admit it, Thresh is right in saying that we are in the Hunger Games and so self defence is essential. Tightening my grip on the rough shell, I aim for a branch two dozen or so feet away. Closing one eye, I focus and release the shell from my hand. It just misses the spot by a hand span.
Picking up another shell, I throw again. This time I manage to just hit the edge of my target. The shell lands smack-bang in the middle in my third, fourth and fifth throw, making me smile to myself. I haven't lost the touch after all. Confident, I pick up the sixth shell and fling it easily in the direction of the branch. It misses by a whole lot, flying way past the target through the leaves. Before I can even get annoyed at myself for being so arrogant, the nutshell comes flying back, slightly burnt.
I am on my feet within seconds, my backpack strapped tightly to my back. Slinking away into the shadows, I wait with my heart in my mouth for an attacker to come charging in. But seconds and then minutes pass without any movement at all, and finally I work up enough courage to step out from the trees. Without my permission, my feet start moving towards the branch that I've chosen as my target. I have to know what's there beyond the trees, and why the shell came back. Despite my brain screaming 'Curiosity kills the cat!" my body continues to head towards the unknown. Whatever's there beyond the branches is pulling my curiosity like a magnet.
Pushing the leaves and twigs aside to step through the branches, I am faced with another ring of trees. Alarm bells are ringing so loudly in my head that my feet are momentarily stilled. I scan the entire span of trees from where I stand, my eyes and ears alert for any strange details. Everything appears to be absolutely ordinary, except for one fleeting point near the top of the third tree from the right. I have to rub my eyes to make sure that I'm not just imagining it, but on second go it's still there. A tiny shimmer, like a ripple in the air. Narrowing my eyebrows, I pick up a small stone near my feet. Maybe throwing a rock at a strange glimmer in the air is not the smartest idea, but right now that is the only way to find out what the glimmer is. And my curiosity is demanding very loudly that I find out about this ripple in the sky.
Turning the stone over in my hand, I take aim and throw. Instead of flying right through to the grove of trees on the other side, the stone flies back at me. It lands beside my feet. I prod it with a ginger finger, gasping when discovering that it's warm to the touch. With several for pebbles in hand, I pelt them at the area in front of me and watch as every single one bounces back.
We're trap inside an invisible cage, and woe beholds the person who tries to escape it.
