Holy cow, this was one long chapter to write! Even if there were only 2 POVs used. I don't believe this, I split the bloodbath into two parts with the express purpose of making things easier on you guys, and then I go ahead and publish a chapter that's nearly 10 000 words long anyways. Sorry 'bout that :) I'm really hoping that things don't seem rushed in this chapter (I know, rushed despite it being 10 000 words long), since a lot of this was written at late, late hours - actually never mind, my clock here reads 1am. So make that really, really early hours :) I just really wanted to get this thing finished for you guys. Anyways, hope it's alright, I know this chapter was sort of built up to a lot and I'm hoping it lives up to expectations! :)
Oh, and thanks to the suggestions for the dragon's name :) I mentioned them all, but finally settled on choosing one that I think might be one of my all-time favourite dragon names. If you get the reference, I will love you forever :) If you don't, well, watch Stargate SG1. Most. Amazing. TV. Show. Ever. :D
Enjoy!
Noah James, District 12 Male
Oddly enough, the first thought that popped into my head when we were confronted by the two Careers was the fear that Malia might get hurt, or worse, killed. I guess after living with the torturous injury given to me by Precious for three days, I'd somewhat come to terms with the fact that I might not make it out of this arena alive. Don't get me wrong, I still desperately wanted to get back to my family and, most of all, my little brother, but after during my pain-induced hallucinations I'd suffered throughout the day where I'd been, for the most part, out cold, I'd decided that even if I didn't make it out, if Malia won in my place, Gabriel would still be alright. After all, our district would receive the food parcels no matter which of us emerged a Victor; but most importantly, we'd both agreed to watch out for the other's younger brother if they didn't live. So he'd be fine. Gabriel would be fine.
"Don't give in," he pleads, the sole visible figure amidst the shadows that surround me. "Please Noah, you can't!"
"It hurts," I whisper, the words barely able to leave my mouth in between moans of agony. "Gabriel . . ."
"No, you said you'd win! And then you'd come home and we'd have a huge party and you'd be safe! Mom always taught us to keep our promises and you promised!"
"But my injury-"
"Don't worry," he says, dropping to his knees beside me. "You always took care of me when I was sick, and now it's my turn." He brushes a hand across the gaping wound in my side, and is it my imagination or is the pain lessening slightly? "Just hang in there, and I'll help you. Or at least," he adds, smiling, "someone will."
He looks up and some sort of shining light appears, bringing with it the face of an angel as she looks down upon me; an angel with brown hair and very familiar blue eyes. "Noah?" she calls out to me, her voice intermingling with that of my brother's as he begins to talk again, the two of them speaking in sync. "Come on, Noah, wake up. Don't die on me; do not die on me."
"Sure thing," I whisper, my mind slowly kicking back into action as I try to forget about the pain, instead focusing on the images of my saviours. "Sure thing, Gabriel."
Of course, I'd been out for a while, and there'd been plenty more fevered dreams, most of which I barely remember, but that one's stuck with me since I first woke up shortly after having it. My brother may not have been there for me in the arena but I knew that far, far away back in Twelve, he was sitting at home with our parents, eyes glued to the TV screen and praying for me to make it. The thought ignited some sort of determined fire within me, a resolve to keep pushing forward no matter how much pain I was in. Whether it was Malia or I who made it out of the arena didn't matter as much anymore; as long as it was one of us who lived. And I had to be there, helping us the entire way in order to ensure that that was the outcome of these Games.
However, no matter how much dream-Gabriel reassured and aided me, he couldn't help the fact that I could barely stand on my feet, much less fight the District 2 girl when she'd offered me the choice. And it was in that moment that I'd realised that it seemed as though I wouldn't be the one who left the Games alive. With it came a terrible sadness, but I'd had to push it aside, use the chance I'd been offered to distract the Careers so that Malia might be able to get away and emerge victorious in the end.
At least until the boy from Ten had came, bringing with him the most terrifying monstrosity I'd ever seen.
"Malia!" I shout, attempting to run towards her and nearly passing out after the first step. But I can't let my injury get the better of me now; I have to get to her.
The girl from Two seems to have completely forgotten that she's nearly backed my ally off of the cliff with her sword; instead both she and District 1 female stare up in horror at the new mutt, before Calican seems to recover from having a foot crush down onto his chest, which might have potentially cracked a few of his ribs. Still, he manages to find the strength to shout out, "Run!" before taking off, the two Careers quickly following close behind. One might find it ironic that he's giving out survival advice to kids who probably wouldn't hesitate to kill him, but I figure that it's just the sort of thing you do automatically. Like when there's a fire and you shout, "Fire!" even if there's no one around to hear it.
Anyways, my guess might be wrong; not like I had much time to think about it. If you didn't notice, we sort of have bigger problems to worry about.
Malia reaches me before I manage to even take another step, half-dragging, half-pushing me over behind a large boulder nearby, just jumping behind herself as the area where the five of us previously stood erupts into raging flames.
The two of us huddle behind the rock as the dragon continues its deadly attack, the trembling body of my ally pressed so closely against me that I can feel every shudder she feels as though it's my own. Although, in some cases, it probably is my own; Malia's getting me to cover, while saving my life, created a strain on my injury ten times worse than when I attempted to stand. I can feel the steady streams of blood trickling out from the bandage soon turn to rivers, my vision fading in and out from the combined burden of the pain and the intense heat blazing behind us. Do not black out, I think, barely suppressing a cry of torment as a wave of agony consumes me like the dragon's fire consumes the rocky terrain behind us; and all it has to do is aim its inferno a few feet to the right in order to char Malia and me to crisps.
Just as I worry that the mutt will do exactly that, the stream of fire disappears; but of course, the two of us know better than to think that it means an end to the danger. Seconds later, a roar resounds through the arena, shaking the very ground with its cacophonous echoes as the dragon bellows furiously at the fact that all of its prey escaped. Don't come for us, I pray silently, trying to hold on to the thought despite the agony throwing my brain into disarray. Please don't.
A giant rush of wind bursts down on us from above, the weight of the air so heavy neither of us can even manage to lift our heads and check where the thing is heading. But soon the pressure lifts and Malia jumps to her feet, glancing all around to try and find the mutt.
"Is it-" I begin.
"After the others," she confirms, and I try to rise, making it half-way before she has to catch and steady me, helping me to see over the top of our hiding rock, which is currently sizzling after having half of its face burned away by the scorching flames.
The dragon seems to have picked the moving tributes as its targets, and we watch as it lets out another roar before swooping down in front of them, landing with a resounding crash on the rocks and opening its mouth wide to shoot out another fiery blaze. Calican and Rhine jump to the left while Cordelia dodges to the right, loading an arrow as she does so and taking aim at the colossal beast. An arrow fires, soaring straight up and hitting home, piercing the flesh of the dragon's throat as it opens its mouth to roar again, instead only emitting a bellow of pain at the small, sharp projectile lodged inside. The giant teeth gnash together, but they only succeed in breaking the shaft of the arrow and shoving the head of the weapon in further, earning another roar of pain before it tries swiping a massive claw down at its attacker, but she's ready for it and dodges to the right, hand already reaching to the quiver at her back for another arrow.
"What do we do?" Malia asks frantically, tearing her gaze away from the horrifying scene and turning to me, her blue eyes wide with fear.
"Get away. As quickly as possi-" I'm cut off on the last word as tremor of pain wracks my body, a low groan of pain escaping from my mouth and causing the terror in my ally to make way for the newfound concern that fills her features, but I wave it off weakly. "I can make it; we just need to go. Now; while it's distracted."
She nods and glances back, just in time to see three figures emerge from the woods between us and the dragon, each one of them brandishing some sort of weapon. "The other Careers," Malia whispers and I nod, watching as the girl from Four doesn't hesitate to throw herself straight into the melee, wielding an axe in one hand and a whip in the other, which immediately elicits a response from the dragon as it cracks down across one of its four claws. "Do you think they can take it?"
"Even if they can, we still have to go; they'll come for us next." She nods and wraps an arm around me, careful not to touch my injury as we slowly begin to hobble out from behind the rock and towards the cover of the woods. Too slow! part of my mind shouts, but I try to calm the panicked thoughts. We'll be fine; it's distracted with the others. We can get away.
I risk a glance over my shoulder, just in time to receive a full-blown blast of wind in my face as the thing flaps its wings and takes off once more, roaring in fury at the newcomers and their weapons, it's front claw covered with angry lash marks while blood drips from other points on its leg where it seems to have been stabbed with a trident. "What's happening?" Malia shouts over the bellow of the dragon, too intent on getting us to safety to take the time to look back.
I open my mouth to respond, but no words emerge, stuck in my throat by the fear of the situation. The monster snaps its teeth towards the ground before an arrow soars up from below, aiming for the leathery fabric of the wings but blown off course almost as soon as it's let loose, the wind caused by the dragon's flapping stopping it from getting too near. It seems to know what the goal of the weapon was though, and lets loose another bellow that quickly turns from animalistic roar to deafening crackle of flames as another torrent of fire shoots from its mouth. Everyone scatters behind whatever cover they can find, and as the tongues of flames lap at the rocky surface before slowly dying out, I wait for them to come back out and resume the attack on the beast. But nothing moves in the barren landscape, save for the gigantic monstrosity floating above us. It too seems to notice the sudden lack of prey running around and roars in annoyance, its massive head swivelling this way and that through the air as it tries to catch a glimpse of its earlier victims, more fire spewing forth from its mouth. Though it finds no one; wherever the Careers and Calican are, they seem to be perfectly happy to stay behind the rocks and have a few more seconds where they don't have to worry about fighting for their lives. Time's swiftly running out though; the dragon will land soon and start clearing away boulders and such that obstruct its view manually if it can't easily spy its targets from above. And there's no one around for it to see.
Except for us.
As soon as the thought hits, my insides seem to freeze, paralysed in fear as I look wildly around for some sort of cover. But we're nearing the forest, and while there are trees in front and rocks behind, we've reached the midway point where nothing exists to hide us. Maybe it won't see us, though, comes one thought out of my petrified brain. We still have a chance. But not if it hears us.
"Malia," I whisper quietly. "Stop moving."
"What?"
"Stop. Moving."
She freezes accordingly, still having no idea what's going on behind us and seemingly too terrified to glance back and take in the scene I currently watch, unable to tear my eyes away as the dragon blasts another small column of fire into the air in anger, its reptilian eyes still searching madly for signs of life. Just don't turn around. Just don't turn around. Just don't . . .
But before I can even repeat the prayer a third time, I watch the dragon crane its neck, one wing flapping more as it begins to turn itself towards us. Merely seconds are passing, but it feels as though it takes more than four lifetimes for the beast to slowly rotate through the air and finally catch a glimpse of us. Its eyes narrow and it flies closer, as though it's not entirely sure whether we're live prey or merely part of the landscape. Understandable, considering that the two of us aren't moving even to breathe, holding the air in our lungs and wishing more than anything we won't catch the attention of the mutt. Malia's probably still hoping for that; out of the corner of my eye I can see half of her pale face, eyes closed and lips moving in a soundless prayer. She has taken a glance back to seem the impending death flying closer and closer towards us, a gleam in its eye as it realises that we are, in fact, living beings. And there's nowhere for us to go; the cover of the forest is too far away and at the pace we've been going, we'd never make it. Not with my injury slowing us down.
We'd never make it.
But maybe alone, Malia might.
Unconsciously, my hand slips into the pocket of pants, fingers wrapping around the crinkled piece of paper that rests there. My note to Gabriel. District 12 has yet to have any previous victors, so I wasn't sure who to give it to to ensure it would get to my brother; at least until I asked our escort and she told me that I might as well keep it in the arena, since I didn't have another token. And I figured that it would work; even if I died, he'd be able to find it when they delivered my body back home. A morbid thought, certainly, but at least he'd get it. Now though, with the dragon bearing down upon us, its mouth beginning to crack open to unleash a fiery torrent of death, it seems like there might not even be a body left to deliver home to my brother, let alone my note. But I can't let that happen; I need this, to get this to him, give him something to remember me by. And taking in our current situation, there seems like only one way for that to happen.
My district partner's eyes flash open as I push the note into her pocket, her blue eyes full of confusion as I stare into them, trying to get her to understand. "Run," I whisper to her. Her brow furrows before rising upwards, realisation filling her every feature as she begins to turn her head to take in the mutt. But she makes no move to leave, merely gasping in horror and the dragon behind us, the beginnings of a gigantic fire ball building in its throat.
"Go!" I shout, using my remaining strength to push her as far away as I can and causing my wound to reopen and bleed down my tribute uniform. Out of pain and exhaustion, I collapse to the ground, all of the energy fleeing my body in the form of the red rivers of blood running through the bandage. But it doesn't matter; it isn't like I'll need the strength to do anything more now. And as Malia whirls around, sprawled in a position a good eight feet away from me, our eyes meet one last time and she shouts something, trying to pick herself up and get back to me. It's too late though; for me, anyways. I'm done.
I'm sorry, Gabriel, I think to myself. I'm sorry I couldn't win this. And as I bring my gaze back to my ally, who starts to take a step forwards, I manage to choke out one last word. "Aurevoir."
And then the world erupts into an endless, blazing inferno.
Rhine Carson, District 2 Female
"So we got a plan to kill this thing?" I shout over the roaring of the flames as the blasted dragon tries yet again to burn us all to crisps. After doling out a painful and arduous beating that only seemed to make the thing annoyed, we wisely decided to employ our talents of stealth and sneak into the shadows while formulating an ingenious plan to get ourselves out of this mess.
Alright; so we were hiding. Hey, if you had a gigantic, supposedly fictional, fire-breathing beast after you, I'm pretty sure you would take the cowardly approach as well.
"It's protected on the outside," Cordelia says next to me; after we found the thing to be much tougher than it looked (which was saying a lot), we both dove for cover behind the nearest boulder. Meredith, Perrin, Rowan and Calican presumably had done the same, though it was impossible to see them through the immense clouds of smoke filling the air around us. And let me tell you, the smell was unbearable. "Those gigantic scales are lessening the blows of our weapons."
I glance over at her; this mutt attack seemed to have remarkably changed her attitude. She'd finally snapped out of her sort of depression, and was keeping a remarkably cool head despite the imminent peril that we were in. It was a wonderful change . . . not that I'd care, of course. "So what do you suggest?"
"Target the stomach. Or the eyes."
I raise an eyebrow, mildly impressed that Cordelia, of all people, could come up with an idea that might actually work. "Surprisingly, that sounds like an alright plan." She throws me a look as if to say that I shouldn't be so surprised, but before she can actually say anything another blast of fire erupts behind us. "But, um, maybe we should wait a bit before attempting to execute it."
Cordelia nods at that and we both lapse into silence, nothing really to do but sit tight and listen to the scorching death searing the ground a few feet away from us. "You know, I should have prepared myself for something like this, since I volunteered and all," my ally says, seeming to have gotten back into her chatty habit. "But, I mean, I don't think anyone could have envisioned having to battle this, this thing. It's, well, it's pretty terrifying."
"Mm," I say, not wanting to blurt out anything like the fact that I was completely unprepared for an attack like this or that I've been currently trying not to have a complete, panicked melt-down ever since that thing flew into view. Had to maintain a cool, Rhine-like exterior, after all. So instead I settle with, "I think it needs a name."
She glances at me sharply. "What?"
"You want to keep calling it 'the thing?'"
"I really don't think this is the time to-" But she's cut off as some of the smog enveloping the area around us penetrates her mouth, seeping into her lungs and causing her to dissolve into a fit of coughing. Without really thinking, I reach out and thump her on the back a few times, until the hacking begins to die down. There's more silence for a bit, interrupted only by Cordelia's raspy breathing before she manages to choke out, "I think it might be gone."
"Fluffy."
"What?"
"No? Alright . . . Norbert." I glance over at her, the amused glint in my eyes meeting her disbelieving stare. Hey, we all of our ways of getting through terrifying situations. Sometimes acting arrogantly casual is the only way to go. "Bob?"
"Darrel."
"Darrel?"
If it weren't for the smoke messing up my vision, I swear I'd be able to see her blushing as she shrugs. "Darrel the dragon?"
I stare at her for a few more seconds before cracking a grin. "Sure, why not?"
She smiles too, then shakes her head. "I don't believe this; we're a few inches away from death and we're trying to pick out a name for our killer."
"Pretty much," I say, smirking slightly before my expression turns more serious. "It's been quiet for a while now, hasn't it?" Cordelia's small smile disappears too and she nods, before the two of us slowly rise and peer over the top of our protective boulder.
The smoke is still thick, but it slowly begins to clear up thanks to the lack of fiery attacks from the dragon. Even with a full cover of smog though, it'd be hard to miss the deadly pillar of flames that erupt from the dragon's mouth, heading right for a solitary figure collapsed on the ground that I can just barely make out as the boy from Twelve. It would also be pretty hard to miss the tortured scream that comes from the girl's mouth as she watches her district partner burn alive in the inferno, her cries still somehow heard over the noise of the dragon's fire. The monster's attack stops just as the cannon booms, and after being assured that it has sufficiently killed its victim it turns on Malia, who seems to manage to pull herself together enough to dodge out of the way as the next wave of fire descends, before sprinting swiftly off towards the forest, now unburdened by her partner and his injury and thus making it swiftly to cover before the monster can attempt to char her as well.
"Enjoying the show, ladies?" Seemingly out of nowhere, Meredith appears behind us, a weapon in each hand and looking extremely annoyed. "Sorry to ask you two to get up and actually do something, but we really should be making the most out of this opportunity."
"Exactly." Perrin materialises out of the smoke behind her with Rowan close behind. "It's distracted; let's fall back to the trees and try and come up with a plan from there."
"You mean, give up?" Meredith sneers. "Are you kidding?"
"I didn't say give up, but we need to-"
"No. We're finishing this, right here, right now."
"Are you-?"
"I have a plan," Cordelia pipes up, interrupting the two of them. "I figure it might work."
The two of them stop and turn towards our youngest ally, who begins to explain the idea of the dragon's weak point while I watch it torch the ground in irritation, seemingly thinking that Malia is still somewhere out on the barren landscape instead of safely away in the trees. Then, remembering us, it begins to turn back, letting out another roar of fury. "Might want to speed things up," I interject. "It looks like Darrel's coming back."
None of them have enough time to ask who in the world I mean by "Darrel," but Meredith seems to get it and nods. "Alright. Perrin, Rowan and Cordelia, get out there and start killing it. Rhine and I'll join you in a second."
Perrin frowns. "What will you be doing over here?"
"Discussing strategies." I raise an eyebrow as he narrows his eyes, earning a short sigh from Meredith. "Look, Perrin dear, I could explain it to you but honestly, you're losing your window of attack. Don't want to miss that, do you?" His frown deepens but after a glance at the dragon, which is now set on a course heading straight for us after spotting the mass of five people all attempting to hide behind one boulder, he merely gets up and leads the other two off, throwing his district partner a glance as he goes. She just waits until they're out of earshot and focusing once more on the dragon before turning back to me. "So, you want to talk strategies with me?" I smirk. "I'm honoured, but don't you-"
"Shut up," Meredith says swiftly. "We're not talking strategies; I'm sending you off on an errand."
"Excuse me?"
"Boy from Ten." She nods her head behind her, where I can just barely see Calican slowly moving backwards, attempting to get back to the forest without the dragon noticing. "Get him."
I look at her in disbelief, the idea that we're here fighting for our lives against some massive beast and she's worrying about some random tribute who is in no way a threat to us seeming completely stupid in my mind. "Are you kidding me?" She says nothing, continuing to stare at me with cold blue eyes holding no hint of this being a joke. "Um, hello, giant dragon out here?" I roll my eyes. "Get your priorities straight."
"I am. You seem to be forgetting, Rhine, that the main goal of the Hunger Games is to kill off the other tributes. Letting him get away would most certainly not be helping with that goal."
"So while the others are out there fighting that monster, you want me to go kill that scrawny kid from Ten."
"No, not kill him." I raise an eyebrow skeptically. "I've got a little, ah, score to settle with him." She grins, but the expression is in no way a happy one; the look in her eyes is maniacal, and I almost want to step back. "So find a way to save him for later. For me. Think you can do that?" She smirks at my expression and takes a few steps out from behind the rocks, readying her axe and whip. "So don't come join us unless you've got him taken care of, or you'll have to answer to me. And I can guarantee you, you won't like that." With that, she takes off towards the dragon, leaving me still in a state of shock, unable to even ask how she expects me to "save him for later." I nearly shudder at the thought of what she wants to do with him after that point, but quickly snap myself out of it. Enough Rhine; you're a Career. Quit getting all soft and act like it! You're behaviour has been absolutely unacceptable lately! It's true, really; accidentally saying that I was "friends" with Cordelia, offering the boy from Twelve a fight – even if that could hardly have been considered fair because of his condition. Now pull yourself together and quit acting like your wishy-washy sister! I shake my head slightly, trying to clear it of all non-Careerish thoughts and quickly take off in the direction of Calican, gripping my sword tightly and alternating between scolding myself and figuratively rolling my eyes at Meredith and her crazy plans. Honestly, even if we are the Careers, do you not think that this might be a bit of a bad time to be worrying about killing off everyone else?
My target doesn't see me coming until I'm too close for him to do anything. I take a swing at him with my sword and he ducks, straightening up just in time to receive another kick to his already delicate midsection, and I swear I can hear a few ribs crack as I slam my forearm into his collarbone and force him against the nearest boulder. "What are you doing?" he manages to gasp. "Do you not see the giant dragon?"
"I know," I say, twirling my sword casually in my other hand. "Trust me, this isn't my idea. But apparently you're supposed to be saved for later." His eyes widen instantly but he only gets a second to take in the meaning of my words before I slam the hilt of my sword into his temple, effectively knocking him out. I release to fabric of his uniform and allow the unconscious body to slide to the ground, wondering what exactly I'm supposed to do now. I could just leave, but he might wake up; so what, should I pile rocks around him and make a cage? "Yeah; great plan, Meredith," I mutter to myself. "Complete waste of my time, thank you very much." I glance down at Calican, half-wondering if I should just slit his throat and deal with Meredith afterwards . . . though thinking about it like that, I decide against; I'm pretty sure no one wants to "deal with Meredith" in these Games. But still, it seems rather ridiculous to spare his life just so she can have fun killing him slowly later; that's not being a Career, that's being arrogantly stupid. Still, I guess it's not up to me to make the decisions; I sigh at the thought that are alliance would do so much better if someone else was calling the shots (coughcoughmecough) and turn back to see how the rest of our alliance is doing with the dragon fight just in time to see something that makes my mouth drop open in horror.
I guess trying to get at the beast's stomach was too difficult, since it resumed its position on the ground and decided to attack our allies from there, soft belly completely protected unless someone was feeling particularly suicidal and decided to try and run under the dragon. But whatever the reason, they seem to have chosen to target the second weak spot. I thought when Cordelia meant hit the eyes, she was just going to shoot an arrow at it or something, like the first time. Though I guess I hadn't taken into consideration the fact that the dragon might actually be learning while we attacked it, not falling for the same tricks twice in a row. Maybe she had tried shooting at it again, but it had knocked the projectile away with a claw, or just burned it into nonexistence. But whatever the case, she'd apparently decided that shooting arrows wasn't going to work. So she was climbing on the back of the dragon.
"Crap!" I shout, completely forgetting about the boy from Ten and leaving his unconscious body behind the rocks while I take off in the direction of the dragon, watching my ally clinging madly to one of the many spikes that line its back as she tries to hold on, slowly but surely edging her way up the monster's neck. What is she doing? I think furiously, my arms pumping wildly as I sprint back towards my allies. She's going to get herself killed!
Not that I'd care, of course. But, you know, it wouldn't . . . send a good message about our alliance if one of the Careers died doing such a stupid thing.
Yeah, that's it.
"What the hell is she doing?" I demand as I reach Meredith, who's just completing a backwards roll after having given the dragon's leg a pretty hard lashing and dodging out of the way before its foot slammed to the ground at the place where our leader had been not moments before.
"Obeying the plan," she says, brushing a bit of ash off of her uniform. "Did you get the boy from Ten?"
I stare at her, trying to convey as much disbelief and skepticism as I can in one glance. "Does it matter? What about the dragon? Why is Cordelia trying to climb it?"
"She suggested that part herself, actually," Meredith says, grinning as I glance upwards again to watch our youngest ally nearly tumble to the ground before managing to get a good grip on the tips of the dragon's horns; she's nearly to the top. "We tried heading for the stomach but, well, that didn't exactly work out." She nods her head over to where Perrin and Rowan are attacking the monster with their respective weapons, trying to distract it from noticing the little sixteen year-old climbing up it. Upon a closer analysis though, I see that Perrin's blue shirt is drenched in red, one arm attempting to cover the nasty looking claw mark slashed diagonally across his chest while the other continues to wield the trident, trying to fight as though the injury were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Say what you will about our leader, but he can be pretty perseverant. "After my district partner failed to get at the stomach," Meredith continues, smirking slightly at her ally before turning back to me. "We decided to target the eyes. Blasted thing was too smart to stand there and wait to get hit by any flying ammunition so we were forced to find . . . other methods of injuring it up there."
"And aren't you our leader? Why aren't you up there doing it?" I ask wildly, my grip on my sword tightening slightly as I watch Cordelia begin to make the perilous journey across the head, using the two horns to balance her.
"Because I'm the best fighter and it's a waste of my talents trying to get up there." She smiles and strokes the whip with an almost loving touch that makes me want to throw up. "I'm better down here distracting it. Which is a job you might also want to help us with. You know, if you're not too busy."
I make the wise decision to ignore her sneering tone rather than respond with one of my own sarcastic remarks (because let's face it, if Meredith and I chose to have an insult battle, it would most likely go on for ages), instead merely drawing my sword and sprinting towards the dragon. Because whatever hare-brained job our female leader had put Cordelia up to, it most likely would not work, and therefore I had to be there to make sure my ally didn't get herself killed.
Even though I wouldn't care if she died. Totally wouldn't.
Since Meredith and the boys already seemed to have the front legs covered, I figured my best choice would be to race around the monster and hit it at the back. The blurred images of the mutt's thick hide flashed by me as I sprinted to the opposite side, grabbing my sword and, acting on impulse, digging it into the beast and dragging it down with me as I ran. What normally should have sliced through a large swath of the monster's flesh only managed to chip a few of the scales that covered the dragon like some sort of giant, impenetrable shell, but at least it did seem to annoy the thing; I risk a glance back to see a giant head turning to glare angrily at me, opening its mouth and not hesitating to send a scorching blast of fire my way, forcing me to dive to the side in a rather poor imitation of Meredith's earlier roll but saving me from getting burned to a crisp all the same. As I dodge out of the way, I notice the fact that the fire doesn't seem to hurt the monster at all, despite the fact that tongues of flame still lick at the side of its hide. Great; it's fire-resistant too. Is there anything that can hurt this thing?
As soon as the flames dies down I pick myself up and whirl around, preparing to have to dodge yet another wall of fire, but it seems the others are doing their jobs well; whatever they're doing, the dragon seems to have decided that they're currently the bigger threat, and gone back to dealing with them. I glance upwards to see how Cordelia's doing, and my heart skips a beat as I watch her dangling over the side of the dragon's face, body flailing wildly as she hangs on to the ragged flesh of its ears by the tips of her fingers. Having the monster twist its head to face me must have thrown her off more than I'd originally planned. Though I see the worst consequence a moment later as the beast pauses in its fight with Perrin, Meredith and Rowan, one paw lifting off of the ground slightly as though it means to rub its face and figure out what the annoying irritation hanging there is. Maybe it couldn't feel her when she was hanging onto the horns, but apparently these ears are a different story; unless someone can provide a more . . . annoying distraction. Well, make way for Rhine, the queen of irritating others.
"Oi! Darrel!" I shout, gripping my sword in my hand and running forwards to stab the blade into his foot. Unfortunately, these freaking scales seem to everywhere, and it's not exactly easy to try and kill something that has rock-hard skin. Where can I hurt you, I think, gazing up and down at the beast's massive body. Where can I-
Ah. That's where.
I charge over to the very end of the dragon, passing the back legs as I come to a stop staring at the sight before me; a massive tail, the continuation of the monster's spinal column, curls around the various rocks before disappearing over the edge of the cliff face. An evil grin begins to form on my face as I realise that, like the dragon itself, the top half of the tail is covered in scales while the bottom is less protected. But unlike the actual beast, this part isn't protected by four lethal claws and a monstrous fire-breathing head. In fact – I turn, checking to make sure that the dragon's full attention is still on my other three allies, while Cordelia climbs the ear to make it back to the top of the head – little, old Darrel isn't paying any attention to what's going on behind him.
Excellent.
The ground seems to almost fly beneath me as I rush to the beginning of the tail, analysing the area where the thick, black scales stop and a more yellowy, fleshy colour begins, covering the entire underneath of the appendage. As a test, I prod part of the skin with the tip of my sword, not hard enough to draw the attention of the monster but just enough to test the strength of the flesh. It gives much more easily than the protective layer on the top of the dragon and I grin; well, this should certainly get its attention.
Without warning, I plunge the blade into the dragon's tail, nearly smiling as it disappears all the way up to the hilt, thick gobs of black, shadowy blood dripping from the place where my sword entered, and I immediately twist the weapon this way and that, slicing it along the tail and deepening the cut, making sure that it feels all the pain. Sure enough, a tortured bellow escapes from the dragon, and I turn towards the head, meeting the glare of the yellow eyes as they hone in on their attacker. Normally someone might be terrified if they were caught in the gaze of such a monstrous beast, but whether it's the adrenaline of the moment or the pride at the fact that I finally managed to wound the thing, all I feel is a rush of satisfaction, even smirking back at the dragon, waiting for it to open its mouth and let loose another torrent of fire. But I'm ready for it though; I can dodge any attack it throws at me. Well, Darrel, I think, smiling. Consider yourself distracted.
The happiness of the moment continues to last for about two more seconds, during which time I begin to ponder why the monster hasn't opened its mouth to attack yet. That is, until something slams into my side with the force of a dozen Capitol trains and I fly through the air in an almost graceful arc, limbs flailing wildly before I lose momentum and start my plummet to the ground.
Bend your knees, Rhine. Despite the rising panic boiling inside of me, a distant memory comes to mind, of the time I had been running around the quarry mines and, like an idiot, tripped and fell off of a relatively high cliff, breaking my ankle in the process. It had been Rush who had found me, and even through the pain I snapped something at him about not telling me that I'd been a klutz, but all he did was just tell me what to do if it ever happened again. At the time, I'd dismissed his advice as "help" which I've always deemed is for losers, but still, his words stuck with me. If you're ever falling from a really high place, hit the ground legs first. They're not as vital to your body as your tail bone or spine. Keep them loose, not locked, and try to relax to transfer less force to your vital organs during the hit. Land on the balls of your feet, protect your head, allow your legs to absorb the impact and try to roll out of it.
Through the tears springing to my eyes thanks to the wind whipping in my face, I manage to spot the rather hard, solid looking ground coming closer and closer at an alarming rate, and though my side is bruised and screaming in pain from where it was hit by what must have been the dragon's tail retaliating against my attack, I manage to try and get myself into the position my brother taught me. Head tucked in, arms overtop to protect it, try and land feet fir-
Suddenly, where there had been only air seconds before, rocks appear beneath my feet as I land with a sickening crunch on the ground, one leg hitting the land before the other and bending in a way that I'm pretty sure legs are not supposed to bend, before the momentum tips me over and I try to roll as much as possible to absorb the impact, head still jolting and banging around on the ground despite the added protection of my arms. For a while, all I can see in the world are quick flashes of sky and rock, before I come to a stop a good ten feet from where I actually landed, one leg twisted at an impossible angle while the other feels only slightly better by comparison, aching and throbbing along with the rest of my bruised and battered body. A low groan escapes from my lungs, but I stop immediately when I realise that even making the slightest bit of noise positively kills. Maybe it would have been better to die from the impact after all; the cuts and bruises and other monumental injuries are just torture, half-making me want to just lay down here and wait for death to come to me anyways.
Though apparently I won't have to wait very long; another roar echoes through the arena and I crack one eye open, just in time to see the giant body of the dragon rearing up on its hind legs as it glares down at me from above, wings outstretched as though it might be ready at any moment to take flight. But it won't; it's here to make sure that I won't try a trick like that ever again. So . . . is this it? Rhine Carson, who made Hunger Games history by being so hated in her district that nobody volunteered for her, that same Rhine Carson is going to spend her last few moments eye to eye with a dragon, collapsed on the ground with no strength to move, no energy to do anything but wait until the monster burns her to a crisp. That's the way I'm going to go. And even though it sounds awful, even though part of my brain is screaming at me to get up and run, I can't seem to make sense of any of the disjointed thoughts floating around in my mind. The fall must have knocked my head harder than I thought.
One thing does manage to penetrate my addled brain though; the sight of Cordelia, clinging to the ridge of the dragon's eyelid with one hand, an arrow in the other as she stares down at me, eyes wide in horror. But even that barely manages to register. What's she doing up there? I wonder, in a foggy daze that even the view of the opening mouth as the dragon prepares to eat me or burn me alive can't break. Isn't that dangerous? Silly Cordelia, she could fall!
You know when I use the word "silly" to describe anything, I've hit my head way to hard.
There's a half a second where her eyes seem to flicker from the dragon, who seems to be savouring the fact that it's getting ready to kill the one tribute who actually managed to penetrate its armour, then back to me, still lying on the ground with at least one broken leg, if not two, and barely any idea what's going on at all. Then she steels herself, raising the arrow above so that its silver head seems to gleam in the dwindling rays of sunlight before it disappears, the tip plunging straight into the middle of the dragon's left eye.
If the mutt had thought it was in pain when I stabbed its tail, that was nothing compared to the agony it must feel now, as it lets out a noise so different from its previous roars and bellows, a noise that can only be described as a cross between a high-pitched shriek and a whimper of pain. A shudder seems to run the entire length of its body and it takes a half-blind step forwards, whipping its head from side to side as though trying to dislodge whatever evil thing could have possibly deformed it so.
Yep, that's my ally. In fact, I think I'm almost proud of her.
Cordelia holds on tightly to the scaly head beneath her, and manages to regain her balance enough to wrench the arrow from the monster's yellow eye, now dripping with disgusting fluids I don't want to even try analysing further. But I have to admit, as I look up at her, riding the top of a dragon with the bloody, pus-covered arrow held aloft, she makes for a pretty impressive picture. Almost actually like one of those fairytales the Gamemakers based this place off of. The hero (or rather, heroine, in this case), placed against insurmountable odds, faces off against the deadly creature, winning the fight and saving hundreds of lives in the process (well, mostly just mine. But I figure that my life is probably worth at least seventy five lives of other more normal, pathetic tributes).
Though what happens next rudely awakens me from my little daydream, showing me that this is the Hunger Games, not some children's story. And here in the arena, there's never a happy ending.
Cordelia's glance darts to the other dragon's eye as she realises that merely stabbing it once won't help. Admittedly, hitting both eyes would only blind the beast, not kill it, but it would make it a hell of a lot easier to get the job done. The hand with the arrow comes down, not to attack this time, but to grip the top of the dragon's eyelid for support while the other lifts, preparing to help her shimmy down to the other side of the mutt's face and finish her job. But withdrawing the weapon seemed to have reawakened the monster's fury, and the roar that comes out of its mouth this time is not one of pain or torment, but one of pure, unadulterated rage. Quicker than any of us have seen the beast move so far, one claw reaches up and rakes the back of its head, not seeming to care whether it wounds itself, only caring to get a hold of its attacker. Cordelia.
I can hear her shout of surprise at the movement from all the way down here, but I'm powerless to do anything but watch as the dragon's teeth clash together in what could almost be considered a creepy, animalistic grin, its clawed talon finding the girl and giving her no time to run (not that she'd really have anywhere to go), wrapping around her slender figure and slamming her to the ground with an even more alarming burst of speed. I wince as the rocks tremble beneath me, aggravating my previous wounds but for once I pay them no attention, the horror of what's going on finally making sense in my addled brain. That impact was bone-shattering. She never could have survived.
Yes, she could have! I think fiercely, trying to shout down the other, more pessimistic side of my brain. She's a Career; she's trained for things like this, right? And . . . there hasn't been a cannon yet! Yes, she can handle it. She can handle it.
I don't know if the Gamemakers have rigged the mutt to wait for the loud bang that echoes through the arena to know whether or not its prey is dead, or if it can just tell, but when I inch my head slightly to the left to continue watching the scene, to somehow help Cordelia with the fact that I know what's going on, even though I can't do anything to stop it, all I can see is the massive beast glaring down with enough anger for its previous two eyes crammed into one, its gaze seemingly fixed on the claw it just slammed into the ground and the being caged within it. But unlike with me, where lifetimes seemed to pass between the moments where I was nearly killed by the dragon, it takes barely seconds for the mutt to open its mouth and let loose a torrent of white-hot flames from within.
"No!" I shout, shooting up into a somewhat sitting position leaning on one arm, ignoring the screaming complaints of aching muscles and broken bones. "Cordelia!" But my cry is lost in the roaring of the fire, only to be drowned out by the awful, final sound of a loud cannon booming across the arena. It can't be . . . is she . . .?
It's in a numb sort of shock that I watch the blazing pillar of flames cease, the dragon glaring down at what must now barely resemble a human figure in its claw, before letting out another brief roar of satisfaction and reaching down with mouth gaping wide, teeth poised above the ground before suddenly tearing into the flesh of what was once my ally and ripping it in half. The horror of the scene registers in my brain, but every instinct that tells me to get away, to cry, to shout in fear, to do something is lost, leaving me even unable to tear my gaze away as the dragon sits back on its haunches, swishing the charred piece of the body from its prey through the air, splattering blobs of crimson blood everywhere around the desolate landscape. One comes flying out of the sky towards me, almost like some sort of twisted, gruesome raindrop, landing with a splatter on a rock nearby and sending a smaller spray of liquid off from the impact that manages to find its way onto the black material of my pants. And it's this little thing that holds my gaze; not the monstrous beast before me that still poses a distinct threat, not the shouting of my allies that seems to come from somewhere far away, but this tiny splash of life fluid, what used to make up a part of my ally, my fellow Career, my . . . friend. Cordelia Schylla. And now her blood is being scattered across the arena, body burned and torn to shreds; they won't even have anything to take back to her family.
A fog seems to settle over me, as though the smoke created by the dragon's fire has taken up a permanent residence inside my brain, clouding my thoughts and emotions. I hear another roar from the dragon and a shout that sounds distinctly like some sort of battle cry that Meredith might utter, looking up in time to see her taking full advantage of the dragon's position sitting on its back legs with its stomach exposed, cracking the whip mercilessly against the softer flesh of the mutt's underbelly. It roars in pain and for a second I think that it'll incinerate her too; it certainly seems to be debating the idea. But the relentless lashings of the whip don't give it time to think of any sort of plan of attack, and perhaps deciding that it's finally fought enough, the gigantic, leathery wings flap once more, lifting the creature into the sky, pausing only to allow it to shoot one more angry column of flame into the air before the dragon takes off over the arena, flying towards the small mountains that rest near the edges of the little ocean we first saw during the bloodbath from the tower. It's actually leaving.
Strong arms reach under my broken leg and back, causing me to wince as I'm lifted into the air, coming face to face with Perrin, features set grimly as he too watches the monster fly off. My eyes meet his for the briefest of seconds, during which I see many things in those sea green orbs; determination, sorrow, even the slightest bit of pity. And that's what makes me turn away. Because no one pities me. I couldn't care less about what just happened. The only things that bother me are my injuries. We Careers aren't supposed to get sad over the death of an ally. So I don't care.
It's not long before Meredith and Rowan join us, and we begin a slow, dreary walk back to the tower, past the burnt and charred scenery that lies all around us. I notice as we pass by a familiar rock that the unconscious body of Calican is no longer present; he must have woken up and scampered off before the fight was finished. My eyes wander over to Meredith, wondering how she'll take the news, but she and Perrin seem to be having some sort of silent conversation, and I get the feeling that he's telling her not to say anything to me, which rubs me the wrong way. What, is he trying to protect me? Please, I don't need the help. Help is for losers. Besides, who cares if one of our allies was just brutally murdered? I certainly don't. Not at all.
Oh, who am I kidding?
"So it's done," Rowan says, wiping his forehead as he stares out at the horizon, where we can just barely see the shadowy smudge of what must be the dragon flying off. "It's done."
No one answers his statement, but if I had the energy or was in the condition to, I most certainly would, with a biting insult or sarcastic remark thrown in there. Because unless 23 of those cannons go off and the voice of the announcer comes on to let everyone know who the winner of the 37th annual Hunger Games is, it isn't done. And after the scene I just witnessed, the gruesome acts we saw committed by the horrors the Gamemakers created, I'm beginning to doubt that, if I even make it out of the arena alive, the Games will ever be done with me.