Chapter 29: Bond vs. Peeta
Peeta's POV
I feel as though I have been turned into an ice statue. Have I really only been here five days?
Some food would be nice, but yesterday's blizzard drove away any animals I might be able to hunt. And the snow is still too deep for me to find any firewood.
My teeth chatter. I am out of options. So I deal in the last card I have: I pray.
God, if you're out there, please send help.
In the wash of white, the sudden presence of new color - even a drab one like gun-metal gray - seems out of place. I stare at the thing floating down from the heavens towards me, until it lands feet from where I now sit.
A gift from a sponsor!
I snatch it up and tear open the parachute. What I find is the last thing I expected. What's a bundle of…. chain link going to help me with? And is that a helmet?
At the bottom of the canister is a note: Put the long mail…. thingy under your parka. It's a suit! If you can't tell where the helmet goes, well…. Watch out for Bond's maces! ~ H
I'll be damned, the old man came through! Of course! These items are protection against Bond!
I just hope they work.
I see him in the distance, a speck on the horizon of snow. I take one last deep breath. In a matter of time, I will know my fate. No matter how I come out, I am leaving the arena today.
Bond and I approach each other, meeting halfway. He smirks.
"Let's get this over with, Mellark."
I smile. "After you."
He whips out his maces and swings. I block one with my broadsword, before quickly slicing down and then dancing away from the other.
The weapon has been split in half, with only one ball still attached. Bond growls and lunges for me again. I parry, glad that I only have one ball to deal with.
Back and forth we go along the snow in this way. Bond seems to be tiring, and his smile now seems forced.
"I'll give my regards when I see Katniss!" he taunts. "Maybe even give a kiss to Hawthorne's brat!" He swings, and I am ready for him.
"I'LL GIVE THEM MYSELF!" I roar, swinging my sword away at the last second.
It's a perfect fake out. Bond has a clear shot at me, but instead of the spiked ball sinking into my chest, it bounces back as though it has hit metal.
Right into Bond's eyes.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHH!" I stare, horrified. Bond has gouged out his eyes, blinded himself, with his own mace. The bloodied, mangled weapon drops into the snow.
I display no mercy. Lunging, I whip around my sword and slice off Bond's head with one, clean stroke. The skull falls one way, the body the other.
BOOM.
Trumpets blast, and I hear Claudius Templesmith's voice over the roar of the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 75th Annual Hunger Games, the 3rd Quarter Quell: Peeta Mellark! I give you…. the first male tribute from District 12!"
