Chapter Thirty-Six.
Special Feast.
A shudder of ice cold air passes through me waking me from a rather comfortable slumber. I evacuate the tree and seek new shelter in the hollow of a old tree of a near by tree whilst checking the traps I had set out before sleeping that night. I make a small meal out of the rabbit caught in one of my snares and refilling my water bottles. I roasted the rabbit inside the cave, maybe a little too well before eating the entire creature as my gut feels so much better plus I am starving. From one bottle, I drink and savour the life perceiving water whilst with the other bottle I clean my weapons as some revoltingly have dry blood hiding in nooks and ridges. I have six throwing knives, a medium sized blade that I had taken from District 11 and the knife Alden had swiped Cassandra from the Cornucopia during the bloodbath.
Here are the things I am fairly certain of. That I'm going to have my hands full because if Cato goes after the pack, he will no doubt wait near the others until Garrett or I come to battle him for them and Iris will be hanging around somewhere nearby, rooting around the outside trying to flush the others out. My ability to kill from a distance using my throwing knives is my greatest asset but I know I will have to go right into the thick of things to get that backpack, the one with the number 4 on it that Claudius Templesmith mentioned, this leads to my fear of this feast, how will Garrett and I tell our packs apart, we are both District 4. It isn't dawn yet but I still scan the sky, praying that they may have missed a death but no. Tomorrow night there will be faces up there. Feasts always result in fatalities.
I look at the moon that still glistens amongst the black like a beacon, I couldn't sleep and I'm suddenly thankful for all the moping around I had done beforehand because I had rested enough to keep me awake so I use this time to my advantage. Target practise. The trees around me reminded me of the training center, if you stood in a certain spot the targets surrounded you opening up different targets for quick fire lessons. Something I never tried in the center but I had watched Iris many times.
She never misses.
I stand central to the trees removing my beautiful knives. Deep cleansing breaths inwards and outwards, twisting the blades in my palms. Then, in a quick motions I release the blades, the sounds of metal meeting wood makes me gleam with happiness and when I go to retrieve the blades, I count the hits. Five out of six hit their assigned tree but one designed the trees weren't good enough and embedded itself into the ground. I re-clean them and slip them back into their home before taking several more sips of water then finding somewhere to go to the bathroom. Fucking Capitol broadcasting me while I take a pee, I could die for their entertainment, at least have some respect and privacy when nature calls.
Through the treetops I watch the moon cross the sky until what I judge to be three hours before dawn. I begin final preparation, double checking my throwing knives before slipping the large knife that originally belonged to Cassandra in my belt-loop and zipping the other folded up blade into my sock, just in case I am disarmed every other way.
I wonder off towards what I think is the Cornucopia but I cannot really be too certain because where I am in the arena still remains a mystery to me. After ten, close to fifteen minutes of walking, my brain give my body the simple command to muster all the courage I have in my body up and climb a selected tree to the top. Whilst discovering I actually enjoy it, I scan the arena to see the pointed tail of the Cornucopia glistening in the moonlight. I needed to head north-east.
My breath makes small white clouds as it hits the air. Zipping my jacket to my throat and pulling my hood around my face my coldness is reduced but once again the feeling in my toes has gone completely and the tips of my fingers are tinted blue. The woods looks different at night, everything has an unfamiliar aura to it. As if the daytime trees and flowers and stone had gone to bed and sent slightly more ominous versions of themselves to take their places. I don't try anything tricky, like taking a new route. I move as fast as I dare but being blinded by the night I can feel my footing weaken, I see nor hear any sign of another tribute, not a puff of breath, a quiver of a branch or a snore or yawn.
The night wanders on without thought and I move without consideration of stopping and once I reach the thick lining of trees surrounding the bloodbath field housing the Cornucopia or the others positioned themselves last night I'm the last to arrive. There's still more than an hour, possibly two before dawn breaks and so I wriggle myself into an undergrowth and wait for the blood to begin flowing.
I nibble on berries close by, considering they are growing on the bush in which I hide. I see no harm but my body is riddled with loose nerve endings and something light after the rabbit is all I can handle but I am full. Eating when I'm bored is a habit I must have brought from home.
Time passes in a stumble. The sky turns a misty morning grey and still there's no sign of other tributes. It's not surprising, really. Everyone has distinguished themselves either by strength or deadliness. Possibly the District 2 pair think I have Garrett watching me, I guess that's all better if they think he's covering me when I go in for the backpack.
I move forwards to look through the tree-line, but where is it? The arena has lightened enough, I can hear the morning birds singing. Isn't it time? For a second, I am panicked that I'm in the wrong location. But no, I'm certain that I remember Claudius Templesmith specifying the Cornucopia. And there it is, thirty meters away and there is nothing. No feast.
And just as panic swells up in my chest, as the first ray of sun glints off the Cornucopia, there's a disturbance on the plain. The ground before the mouth of the horn splits in two and a round table with a snowy white cloth rises into the arena. On the table sits four backpacks, two large packs, one yellow marked with the number 2 and a blue marked with the number 4, a medium-sized blue one with the number 4 and a tiny yellow one – which I could carry around my wrist – that must be marked with 2.
The table had only been clicked in place for a minute or so when a figure darts out from the tree line to my right and snags the large blue pack marked for District 4. Garrett Larkin! He shoots off with large strides towards the opposite side of the field. He has us trapped because no one wants to chase him down, not whilst our packs are still sitting there vulnerably on the table. Garrett must have purposefully left the other packs alone, knowing that stealing a pack which belongs to another would definitely bring on pursuers. That should be my fucking strategy! Huh, I was dreading Cato and Iris but maybe I should be a little more cautious of Garrett. By the time I have pushed through the whirlwind of confusion, surprise, anger and admiration another tribute has emerged from the trees and is throwing glistening silver blades at my district partner. The tribute is female, Iris Castillo.
Without any hesitation, I sprint towards her withdrawing a knife from my leg holster. Iris is too caught up in the adrenaline of adding another kill to her name to hear the blade travelling through the air before it's too late. The blade buries itself into the target, just off the center of her left shoulder blade. Iris yelps in sudden pain before stopping abruptly scanning the area for the attacker, for me. Garrett peers back and I gesture using my head urging him to leave.
"Stings like a bitch, doesn't it?" I mock from across the gap. From my holster I have collected two other knives whilst watching Garrett disappear into the trees, well out of range of any weapon. Even a bow and arrow. Miss Castillo turns to face me, her eyes are red with anger and wanting. I can sense the danger like a nearing fire, the knife comes first whizzing in on my left side, twisting right I manage to dodge the blade successfully. I throw one of the two blades in my hands but this time, Iris ducks and the blade zips over the top of her head merely nicking the fine hairs. I throw the other blade but she is too close and I know it'll miss and my opponent slams her body into mine, knocking me flat to the ground. She grapples for my arms which is a mistake because she isn't protecting her face and I throw my head forwards to crush her nose with my forehead. She groans through the pain as her nose leaks blood like a garden hose dripping onto my chest but she doesn't care, the adrenaline that pumps through her veins makes her twice as deadly. Iris releases one of my arms and punches me in the temple, my vision whitens at the edges as I try to adjust to the effects of the punch because this fifteen-year-old has an incredibly strong hit. Iris dumps her weight on my middle so she sits steadily pinning my arms to my sides with her knees.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this." Iris purrs opening her jacket to give me a close up look at the array of knives. She carefully selects a small blade with a cruel, curved blade. "Cato put up a fight about allowing me to have you, but it's too late now." she chuckles before surveying my face, tilting it from side to side as if it's a block of wood and she's deciding what exactly to carve on it. "Wow. You really do look like your sister." she mocks, I twist and wriggle with rage as I release strange grunting noises from my throat but Iris's body holds me still to the ground. "I wonder if she would be upset, knowing that you're going to die as pathetically as she did." Then, Iris presses the edge of the blade to my lips, digging the edge between my lips to set it carefully at the left corner.
No, I will not die here, I think to myself and with my rage and sudden burst of energy. I bring my right knee up to jab it into the lower section of her back forcing her to naturally bend forward to avoid another hit. Fighting against her weight I remove my back slightly off the ground and extended my neck to bite, viciously the bridge of her broken nose. She screams as my teeth sunk into the flesh lower down her nose either side of her nostrils but she retaliates by sinking the cruel blade into my shoulder, causing me to release a whimper of pain myself. Iris's body weight shifts allowing my arm to slip and my hand to move freely. I remove a blade from my thigh holster and sink the two inch blade into Iris's right thigh,
Iris removes the blade from my shoulder as her force on my arms entirely weakens and I manage to wiggle them free and take a large handful of the hair from the back of her head before rolling her body off me and swapping places. Like she had to me, I sit on her chest pinning her shoulders with my knees. Iris wriggles and arches her back, all in a desperate effort to throw me off but her efforts are worthless. A strange pain tingles in my left hand as well as my shoulder as the adrenaline fades slightly undoing the barrier between me and pain. As myself and Iris were rolling, the little bitch must have droved her small blade into the top of my left hand.
I pull the blade free from my hand without much effort, thankfully the blade hadn't travelled very deep into the flesh. "Thank you." I tell her without much thanks. I am enraged by her comment about my sister however if she wanted to bring up family. I can do that because her sister never won the 80th Hunger Games.
Iris snarls at me like a predatory animal before screaming at the top of her lungs, "Cato!"
Curling my bloody hand into a large fist, I jab it into her windpipe, very effectively cutting off her voice, "Iris, Iris, Iris." I tut looking down at her. Trapped and helpless but there is a large chance that Cato could be nearby guarding her or hunting down Garrett. My eyes dart to the table sitting in front of the Cornucopia, mine and the pair of District 2 packs are still waiting there but I think I have some time to make this satisfying enough for me to cope with another tally to my name.
I turn my attention back to Iris, slipping the corner of the blade into her mouth, resting the razor sharp edge against the corner of the right side. "Not so fun when the boot is on the other foot." I say tugging at the blade to indicate what I mean. Iris struggles in an effort to unseat me but it's no use. I am too heavy and my lock on her was too tight.
"You seem to remember my sisters death, but do you remember how your own sister died?" I questioned, beneath me, Iris struggles against me but I keep her flat, "He sliced her throat." I tell her slowly, as if she had forgotten whilst removing the blade from her mouth before tracing the blade against the delicate skin of her throat. "Then, as she died slowly, he carved his name into her face." I snarl removing the blade from her throat to her face, the small part of her cheek below the right eye. The same place where the male from District 1 carved his name into Iris's sisters face.
I return the blade to her mouth as I watch her eyes widen with hate due to the harsh reminder of her sister. "Just do it already!" Iris screams at me, the blade deepens into her mouth but I laugh hardly, my chest hurts by the sudden action however I continue to laugh at her.
"I'm not going to kill you like this," I admit, "That's cowardly, I want to kill you with my hands but lets give the audience a good show before one of us pegs out." I chuckle before throwing the knife away and removing myself from the body of the fifteen-year-old beneath me who automatically struggles to her knees.
Wanting to kill Iris with my hands was true, but really, I could of just strangled her. Maybe it's possible for me to still have emotions, killing Iris without giving her a chance to defend herself is somewhat unnerving however if she was attacking me, killing her would simply be a reflex I won't mind.
I shuffle backwards a meter or so as I watched the child. Iris pushes herself to her feet to stare at me. Iris's nostrils flared with anger and her eyes were sunken. "Are you ready for this?" Iris asks me rolling up her sleeves and removing her survival pack, along with a sleeping bag and loose weapons. I copy her actions, removing my survival pack, leg holster and loose knives however I keep the hidden knife in my sock.
Grinning, I reply, "Are you?"
Listening to the people in the Capitol collect drinks before hushing their voices. Two families in the Districts are now on the edge of their seats as Iris and I stare each other down. We both have injuries, me more than her but thankfully I've had help from sponsors to treat that but the stab wound in my shoulder is fresh and so is the stab wound to the back of her shoulder. My breathes were static as I study the female tribute, she stands at five-foot-four – same as I – with muscular arms and legs, plus years of training. I feel sick and stupid at suggesting this but if I'm going to die in here, I might as well go out with some dignity.
"Let's get started." I growl.
A/N: Until next time, my loves. Iris vs Anastasia, which team are you? Review!