Velt Ganger (D9)
Velt jumped awake. The mountain, it was shaking. He had never been in an earthquake before, but he had seen plenty of them on the television screen. Gamemakers liked earthquakes. Throwing his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his spear, Velt sprinted outside. The cold air felt awful compared to the toasty luke warm temperature of his cave. He had barely been outside since he had found his cave. There had been no reason to.
Chips of rock were sliding down the mountain as Velt sprinted towards the woods. Behind him, he could hear his cave collapsing. Velt started to run faster. Once inside the safety of the woods, Velt picked the tallest tree and began to climb. It was slow going, with his pack and a spear on one hand, but he managed. His climbing ability had saved his life on more than one occasion since the Games started. It would not fail him now.
As he reached the top of the tree, Velt looked back towards the mountain, his breaths coming in quick accelerated intervals. The sight he found was breath taking. A huge wall of snow was tumbling down the mountain, eating up everything in its path. Velt felt the panic rising in his chest as he watched it fall. The tree he had picked was still close to the base of the mountain. He wasn't sure that he was far enough away to clear this new danger.
Thinking quick, Velt looked up towards the tip of the tree and began to climb more. There was another branch, just a few feet past the last leaf on his tree, that he might just be able to reach. With one daring leap, he jumped upwards, grabbing onto the branch, and pulling himself even higher. Once he was securely on the new tree, he began to climb more, until he could see out over the canopy of half of the forest.
That was when the snow hit. The avalanche crashed into the ground. It filled the arena with a thunderous rumbling noise, louder than the churning of stormy ocean waves during a hurricane. The sheer power of the snow's impact into the ground was enough to send a gust of air swaying through the branches of the forest. Velt felt his tree creak as it too flexed backwards. The snow kept coming, eating up the space to the forest, and engulfing the first few trees.
Velt held his breath and closed his eyes, waiting for it to swallow him up too. Five minutes passed before he dared to look again. The avalanche had ended, stopping just four or five trees before his. Looking at the ground, he could see some of the snow had began to climb up the base of the trunk, but it hadn't reached him. He had made it out alive.
Velt let out a sigh of relief. He would have to add the avalanche to his growing list of near death encounters he had experienced since entering the arena.
Suddenly an inhuman bellow filled the air. Some kind of animal's roar filled the entire arena, bouncing off the sky and echoing in the trees. Velt's blood went cold. It was the final five, he knew that the Capitol would be sending something for them soon. Especially since it had been a day since any action had happened. The last death had been Lindon, his face showed up in the sky earlier that night. Velt stared up the mountain, wondering what to do. His first instinct was to run. It was dark outside though, and he hadn't gotten much sleep. He didn't even know where this thing was.
Velt frowned, deep in thought. He finally decided that he should stay put. The only thing left that he could be sure about was that at this exact moment he was safe. Now that Lindon was dead, he wasn't quite as worried about being ambushed by another tribute in the dead of the night. Nestling into a groove in the tree, Velt felt his eyes grow heavy and he drifted off to sleep.
His dreams were vague and hazy. Random shapes and colors travelled through his line of sight. Sometimes somebody familiar would pop up, whether it be one of his siblings, Totem, or Belle. None of the images startled or scared him; although, none of them instilled that feeling of homey safeness. It was like he was looking though a sheet of glass. Everything was just out of reach.
When he woke up several hours later, Velt felt more refreshed than he had in ages. It was the first night he'd gone without a single nightmare. When he awoke, the sun was peaking through the clouds again, shining onto his face. It appeared the Gamemakers were done with the storms for the moment. Thank goodness.
Velt climbed down from his tree onto the ground, and ate his meager breakfast. He was running out of supplies, but hopefully that wouldn't matter. His pack just had to last until the Games ended. That meant stretching out his last three pieces of jerky, a half a can of peaches, and two crackers for at least another day or two. Velt thought back to Totem's and his raid on the Cornucopia. If he hadn't picked up these extra supplies, he'd have died from starvation days ago.
When he finished his breakfast, he sat around lazily for another half an hour. Finally, he decided that he had to get moving. It wasn't safe to hang around in one spot for too long anymore.
"Which way, left or right?" he asked himself. For another moment he just looked around, surveying the area. "Right," he decided aloud.
Trotting off, Velt walked at a leisurely pace. For the first time, he felt like he truly had nothing to do. He wasn't walking to a specific place; he didn't have any specific survival needs that had to be attended to; and there was nobody with him to do something with. It wasn't a bad feeling though. He was just relaxed. In his head he went over the competition again. Both from Two, boy from Eight, boy from Ten.
It looked good for the outer districts this year. It was rare for the final five to have a minority of careers. Velt wondered what people back at home thought about him right around now. To the community of Nine, he had always been somebody to be pitied- that kid with the abusive father. They'd never seen him be strong or brave. He bet they were all pretty surprised right around now. He wondered if his father was happy that he was still alive. Had he made the old drunk proud?
He doubted it. His father hated his guts.
Soon the sun was high in the sky, and Velt could feel his jacket sticking to his back. The arena was funny in that way. It was too cold outside to take off any layers, but if you were really moving during the hotter hours of the day, you could still sweat.
Suddenly the hug roar bellowed through the arena again, just like it had the previous night. Velt held his breath and looked around. For a second, silence filled the air. Then the new steady creaking of a tree gradually falling reached his ears. Then another creak. Then another.
Velt squinted into the distance. Through the maze of trunks, something big and white was moving. He forced himself to keep walking. Slowly he wrapped around, walking in a wide circle around the beast. When he was sure he was behind it, he found a tall tree, and hoisted himself to the top.
From there he got a better view of the beast, and what he saw terrified the boy.
The beast was about as tall as one of the smaller trees, and its entire body was covered in a furry white coat. It was humanoid, with a gorilla-like posture. Velt couldn't see its face from the angle he was at, but he was sure it was ugly. The thing was currently tearing a path through the forest for itself as it reached forwards with its giant meaty hands and tore trees straight from their roots, and tossed them aside. Behind it, a trail of colossal foot prints led into the distance.
Velt held his breath as the thing gradually made its way through the forest. Velt made sure to stay exceptionally still. He was horrified that the thing might hear him. It moved obnoxiously slow though. Velt was waiting for it to move on, so that it was out of ear shot. The problem was that tearing up the forest was a slow going job. Velt felt his limbs starting to shake as the effort of standing still. Velt felt his stomach fall, and at that moment he knew it wouldn't be long until...
Snap
The branch his left foot was on broke, and Velt lost his balance. He cried out as he tumbled towards the earth, stray branches scraping his body as he did so. The final impact on the ground wasn't that bad. A layer of fresh snow, and the sleeping bag in his back pack cushioned him enough that the worst he suffered from on impact was the shock of having the wind knocked out of him.
His hands started to quake as he looked up. The mutt had turned, it's great white head stared at him. It had beady silver eyes and four huge fangs that sat on the outside of his lips. When it made eye contact with Velt, another horrible growl ripped through its throat. Velt screamed.
Scrambling to his feet, Velt shed his pack and began to sprint as fast as he could towards the mountain with his spear in hand. The ground shook as the mutt chased after him. It wasn't taking the time to move the trees out of its way anymore. Instead it was just thrashing its limbs out as it ran, cracking trunks in half to open up a path for himself. Velt felt his heart pounding in his ears. He couldn't climb up a tree to get away from the beast. It would just knock a tree down. A cave would help, but the avalanche had covered all of them in a layer of thick snow.
Velt was either going to have to outrun the thing, or die.
It was clear almost right away that it wasn't going to be that easy. The mutt moved slowly, but it didn't matter. One of its strides would match twenty of Velt's.
The wind rippled through Velt's hair, whooshing past his ears. It made his eyes start to tear up. Sweat beaded up on his forehead, running down his temple before being whooshed backwards with the wind. Around him the forest began to thin slightly. He was passing from the animal side of the forest into the plant side. In a moment of panic, he realized that the snow was starting to get deeper, slowing him down. He looked over his shoulder.
The monster was gaining on him. He had managed to put a little bit of space between himself and the mutt, but it was quickly closing on him in the deep snow. Velt started to pick up his pace. Instead of running conventionally, he began to leap savagely forwards, trying to cover as much distance with each step as possible. His legs burned with exertion. Beside of him one of the trunks that the mutt had knocked over fell just inches away from him.
It was going to catch him. It was going to catch him right now.
A wave of madness swept over him. Planting his foot firmly on the ground, he pivoted, facing the beast. With a warrior-like cry, he dashed forwards. The beast wasn't prepared for it. It swiped down at the spot he had just been standing, going for the death-blow, but it missed. Velt dashed right in between the beast's legs, holding his spear out to the side as he did so. The mutt roared as the point of his spear cut a shallow gash in its ankle. It was angry now.
Velt kept running, not bothering to look back. He knew it was chasing him again by the way the ground shook as it walked. Banking right suddenly, Velt changed up his direction. He wasn't sure where he was anymore, but going back the way he came wasn't going to be productive.
A quarter-mile ahead of him, Roland and Raven were sitting around a small fire, eating a bag of jerky. Roland's fingers twitched as he fiddled with his rope, like always. The two hadn't been speaking that much to each other anymore. Raven stared at his feet with his shoulder's sagged. His outburst the other day had passed, and his rebellious spirit had gone with it. Now he simply felt empty and sad. He was ready for this all to be over.
Velt saw them coming up in the clearing ahead of him and didn't even care. The beast was catching up again, and he needed to get away. Hopefully these two tributes were like Totem and wouldn't kill him. He sprinted forwards, jumping right over their fire, and kept going.
Raven and Roland both jumped to their feet as the small boy tore through their little camp sight. Roland looked at his retreating figure, trying to decide whether to chase him or not. Raven knew better. The only reason people ran like that was when they were running from something. Turning around, he looked in the direction that the thing came from. His jaw dropped when he saw the mutt.
"Roland," he cried out, grabbing his sword. His ally turned, his face turning white when he saw the beast.
"They don't make cows that big back at home," Roland muttered as he began to twirl his lasso. They both knew that running the way Velt was wasn't an option for them. Or at least it wasn't an option for Raven, who still felt like hell from jumping off the cliff two days ago.
The two boys stood bravely as the thing barged into their clearing. It was still looking ahead at Velt, but when Raven brandished his sword, digging it into its bad leg, it found new targets. It howled out as it kicked at Raven, knocking him backwards. The boy from Eight gritted his teeth in pain as his broken arm took the brunt of the blow. The beast raised its great paw, ready to deliver the death-blow.
Its arm began to swing forwards, but about mid way to the ground, something snapped it backwards. Roland dug his heels into the ground as his lasso tightened around its arm. He'd never tangled his rope around something so strong. In one motion, the beast took his free paw and cut through the rope with his nail. Roland fell backwards into the snow. Now the beast was focused on him.
Raven wasn't going to leave him to die though. Scrambling forwards, he leaped up into the air, digging his sword into the beast's lower back. The blade cut downwards as Raven pulled it back to the ground with him. When he landed, he dug the blade again into its thigh. It kicked wildly, but this time Raven was prepared and he jumped backwards, putting some distance in between himself and the mutt's thrashing.
Velt heard the mutt roar from a little ways off, and turned around, panting. He saw that it had stopped to fight the other two tributes as it wasn't following him anymore. He was safe. He should feel safe now. But he didn't. A feeling of guilty dread fell over him. Those two tributes never tried to hurt him the way that other girl he killed did. If they died fighting the mutt because of him, he wouldn't be able to get it off his conscience. Not ever.
He bit his lip as he started to run back. He had to help them. It was something wasn't worth living if he had to live with those two older boy's lives on his conscience. If they tried to kill him afterwards, then he'd stick them both himself. But they would have to try and hurt him first. That was the way things were supposed to work.
Roland and Raven were fighting a losing battle. Roland's rope wasn't an effective weapon, and Raven couldn't reach high enough to kill it. He might have been able to scale a tree to reach the mutt's head, but his arm prevented him from doing so.
The mutt currently was towering over Raven, its silvery eyes turning bloodshot with rage. Its swiped at the boy, trying to get a solid blow. Raven's forehead was coated in sweat as he batted the attacks away with his sword. He sliced cut after cut into the beast's hands. Raven was just waiting for it to throw both its hands at him. Then he'd be a goner.
Roland dug into the snow until the ground was uncovered. "Hurry up," Raven cried as he ducked under another attack.
"I'm trying," Roland shouted back. Then he found what he was looking for: rocks. "Hey big foot, over here." He threw the rocks as hard as he could at its head. They found their targets, bouncing off it harmlessly. It lifted its back leg up and scratched at the back of its head like a dog. Turning, it saw Roland flinging the rocks, and it curled its lip in annoyance.
Velt came up upon the fight as it plucked up Roland off the ground and carried him close to its face. Roland's hair blew back as the thing breathed in his face. Velt knew what he had to do. He sprinted forwards and launched himself off the ground. Grabbing onto the mutt's fur, he began to climb. Immediately, it dropped Roland.
The boys from Ten and Eight stared, completely shocked as the youngest competitor in the Game bravely climbed up the mutt's back, a look of determination on his small face. The mutt immediately started flailing as it tried to shake Velt off, but the boy held fast. He screamed loudly as he dug his boots into the beast's back, searching for a foothold. Inch by inch, he pulled himself higher, making his way slowly to the mutt's head.
When he made it to its neck, it suddenly began to shake violently in a last ditch effort to throw him off. He knew it was now or never. Grabbing his spear, he plunged it into the mutt's spine. A thick murky red goo oozed from the wound as the mutt stopped thrashing. With an incredulous grin, Velt started to laugh. He had won. He killed the big mutt.
That was when the beast began to fall. It had been practically standing upright on its hind legs when Velt killed it, and so its center of gravity no longer leaned forwards. Velt felt himself slipping back as the mutt's body started to go down. With a terrified cry, he tumbled to the ground. For a second, there was an awful grace period where the only sound that echoed through the woods were the sound of Velt's cries as the mutt fell over him. Then the corpse hit the ground, and everything went silent. There was no more screaming, no more ferocious roaring, not even a cannon.
"Roland," Raven suddenly screeched. "Roland he's still alive." Raven rushed forwards to the corpse and started to push it with all of his might. He took his good arm and he squatted down and he heaved upwards. It didn't budge. Either the weight was too heavy or Raven was just simply too injured, but he couldn't even get its hand to lift off the ground. "Roland help me."
Roland suddenly snapped out of his daze. "Maybe we shouldn't," he said quietly, feeling guilty before the words even left his mouth. "I mean. It's us or him Raven. We can't all win."
"Screw the freaking Capitol's rules," Raven bellowed. "That kid just saved our lives."
Roland flinched at his friend, but he obeyed, running over and trying to move the animal himself. Together they managed to roll its shoulder forwards slightly, but it wasn't enough. Velt was still stuck underneath it, suffocating.
Boom.
And then he wasn't suffocating anymore. He was simply dead.
Raven fell backwards into the snow, his chest rising and falling in exhaustion. Heavy bags had formed underneath his eyes, and his usual vibrant life had been sapped from him. The reaped boy who had smiled and waved at the Capitol crowd the night of the Chariot rides didn't exist anymore. Roland suddenly felt a wave of sadness roll over him. The Games had killed even Raven's hope in humanity. He sighed. If it could do that to Raven of all people, the rest of them were goners.
A/N RIP Velt.
I don't think anybody ever thought Velt would have a chance. He was never anybody's favorite tribute (in my initial two character polls he didn't get one vote), and he's twelve. Really, you'd think I'd have killed him off a long time ago. Well, I really liked Velt. His reaping segment is one of the sections I'm most proud of in this story. He was never the most original character (young kid with an abusive father), but I saw a lot of potential for a good story line in him. Basically when it comes down to it, he placed fifth 'cause I liked him. That's also why I pretty much dedicated an entire chapter to him here. He was never in consideration for the victor though. Its just the way things go with tributes this young.
So yeah. I can't believe I'm saying this. But you'll know the victor next chapter. Then afterwards I'll do an epilogue chapter. Then I'll be switching the story's status to complete... That felt weird to say. Don't worry though, if you haven't read so on my profile already. I will be doing a sequel. So yeah. That will be happening soon.
In the meantime, we have our final four: Roland, Raven, Chateaux, and Kegan.
I'm going to have some fun writing the next chapter. A lot of fun.
Until next time.