F11: EBONY ECHO
I've lost him. I went to sleep last night knowing he was near and I woke up alone. Marius is lost. I don't know where he is at all! I scream, scaring a flock of little birds from their perches into the crisp air. If they were tributes I wouldn't even care- they're not Marius. I kick a stone away from my foot and sling my pack onto the ground. My stomach rumbles in hunger, but I still have plenty of water. I vow not to eat until Marius is dead. I smile at the thought. I might get a little hungry, but my ferocity will overwhelm any fatigue in battle! I gently run my thumb over the tip of a crossbow bolt. I have four arrows remaining. Two of them will leave the arena with Marius.
I'll go back to the Cornucopia. That's where the Gamemakers always try and have the big fights- the bloodbath, the final battle, et cetera… I'll wait there for Marius. The Gamemakers must be on my side and will drive Marius to me. They won't want an insane killer to win, would they? I'll take down Marius and then I'll go home. We'll dance and he will fall, like in that children's song about an ancient plague. Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posy, ashes, ashes, we all fall down! I won't fall. I'm not all of them. I'm Ebony Echo, avenger of Linley and victor. I'm going after Marius and he won't be ready for me this time. He won't escape again.
I stretch out my legs and slowly stand. I'll go slowly, to let the Gamemakers drive Marius to me. We'll be a team, but our alliance won't have to break. I giggle. It won't break like the stupid Careers broke. My crossbow is back in my weathered hand and I'm on the move again. The dance is waiting- the musicians are warming their instruments and soon the main piece will play loud, its chords straining away to Claudius Templesmith's announcement. I'll be ready for that; I'll bow like they do at the end of dances. Before the explosion, Nessa would dance. She and I would play together like princesses and queens and jesters- dancing. Marius dances differently.
The rocks are steep as usual and I allow their slope to guide me downhill. As long as I'm not going away from the Cornucopia and towards the walls of stone from the avalanche, I'll be happy. I'll be happier after Marius fights me. I'll taunt him, the fish out of water, and he'll die like poor Linley died. I rest my hand on a rock and my crossbow knocks against it almost musically. The conductor's baton- for the dance. Now there are only five left. Five guests to the dance. I only look from the treacherous rocks when the sky grows dim.
On little cat feet, the fog rolls in. I can't see anything and I shiver. Anyone could sneak up behind me. I load my bow and peer into the mists, but I can't see anyone emerging. Then I realize this could be good for me. In Eleven there are often mists- they are wonderful for the crops, but sometimes they keep the workers at home. They once gave a lesson on how to work in fog- be as focused as you can. I crouch low to the ground and allow myself to snicker. Now Marius really won't see me coming. I'll see him- down low where he won't look, and then I'll attack. I creep forwards as quietly as I can. If only I keep going in this direction, I'll be at the Cornucopia shortly.
Down at earth level, the view is clear. Despite that, the rock doesn't even show up until I'm almost against it. I swerve in my crawling to avoid it and my hand slips on a rock slick with water droplets. I lose my footing and start rolling, rolling down the mountain's side. I never learned what to do, how to keep safe and react, in a situation like this! I flail around instinctively but it doesn't slow me down or anything like that. I smack my legs against tree trunks and briar thickets and my arms catch momentarily in bunches of leaves and scrape against stones. Nothing stops my mad tumbling. Soon the thoughts of catching Marius are shooed from my mind and replaced by an animalistic instinct of self-preservation. I screech as I roll now, instead of just whimpering when the terrain caught me. I roll in a little ball, trying to save my neck and head, but then I scream in pure pain when my back slams hard into a tree. I uncurl and sob, the trembling just making me hurt even more.
I drag myself along the ground, the fog barely comparing with my fuzzy, agonized brain. There-a rock offers slight shelter. Marius will have to wait. I army-crawl underneath the overhang and take in ragged, gasping breaths. Nothing's broken, at least. I collapse again and watch the mists swirl uncomprehendingly. Soon the pain over takes me and I start to black out. "I'll find you again…. Marius…" I croak. Then I go out.
The fog is gone. Soon, although my entire midsection hurts terribly, I sit up and then stand. I have to get back on the trail. Where am I? I stumble out from under the rocks and look around. There, the mountain goes downhill, and up there, that big oak, is where I must have hit my back. I rub the offending injury and wince. I retrieve my crossbow and watch the sun carefully for a moment. The hunt is back on again. Tomorrow I attack.
M4: MARIUS DYLAN
I awake and stretch lazily. There are no allies to watch for, no cannons yet today, no enemies to worry about. There's only knowledge and memories. Immediately my good sleep and attitude are soured by the realization of where I am and what I have done during the past week and a half. I sullenly pull my legs out of my sleeping bag and automatically reach for my harpoon gun. Then I pull my hand back. I don't need my weapon right now, so why do I orient myself towards it? Then my training takes over and I grab the harpoon. I've got a few knives in my belt as well. Prepared for just about anything- although you never know what will happen in the Games, I push aside the tent flap and wearily step into the harsh morning sun. Something's weird. There's a thick fog everywhere around the lake, although the lake itself is clear. Maybe bringing my harpoon with me was a good idea. This looks like a set for a major conflict. I wonder who they're bringing. Any tribute who steps out of the mist is less important than my Shoalle and I will kill rather than let them keep me from going home. They're not Linley.
I lightly step down to the water's edge. The lake is still pretty warm, but the fog isn't cold. Just… damp. Now both my feet, which dangle in the water, and my head are wet. Yay. It's so melancholy here I feel depressed. Or maybe that's just how I'm feeling anyway and the weather just mirrors my emotions. The black water ripples and the giant crocodile pulls itself halfway out of the water. I smile. My mutt has paid great attention to this side of the lake. I wonder if the muttations feel the same sort of pull as the tributes do when they see us. It's a strange thought, to consider if animals have feelings- even if those animals are products of human blood. They still look and act like animals. I stretch out one hand and pat the crocodile on the top of its scaly, ridged head. It opens his mouth and I twitch when I see the formidable teeth, but it just sets is jaw in position in a huge yawn. It suns itself; I laugh at my fear. I've seen reports of crocodiles being thought of as statues on the beach until they closed their enormous maws on some unsuspecting bird. Mine looks almost stuffed now as its sits beside me. Like some sort of creeper, I realize that the mutt sits on the same side of me that Shoalle always liked to sit. Is it the human in it that chose its spot, or did the animal simply pick using its instincts? I'm trying to relate everything to home and I shake my head to clear my thoughts.
The fog is clearing, too. Is there no big showdown planned? Is my opponent otherwise occupied? No cannon fires and no fog rolls back in, so I relax some. I look around my camp and realize just how conspicuous I am. Anyone capable of fighting me could easily find me, and if there were an alliance out there who found me- two or three tributes might be able to take me down. One of my arms is still basically immobilized from the crossbow bolt Ebony put in my shoulder the night of the Career pack breaking. I flex the injured arm. There's a sore, dull ache there, but it's a clean wound- no infection at all underneath the tight bandages. I can only spar with it for a few minutes. Two tributes working together could wear me down twice as fast as normal.
I can't afford to think like that. I have to get back home. Not just to bring glory and all that to my district- now I need to return to apologize for Linley, to be there for my family and for Shoalle, and to show myself that I can do this. It's not for the glory. Now, I need a better spot to hide myself. AS I stand, the crocodile slithers back into the water, disappearing from my view within a few seconds. Only a few bubbles reveal the mutt's location. I roll my shoulders- the injured one throbs a bit as I do so- and snatch up my harpoon gun. I don't plan on getting caught unarmed. Never. I leave my supplies at the tent- all my important things I have with me and with the food in a little hole in the rock right above the water level guarded by a twenty-foot crocodile, I'll be safe for a while yet. Maybe another two days. Five tributes? Most likely, I'll still have food by the time the Games are over.
The mountain behind me is steep- too steep for an ocean boy, so I trek around its base and head directly towards the valley in between the oak and pine forests. My harpoon in hand, I scout for any sort of hidden places. There's a ditch there, but gullies and ravines are too hard to climb out of when an intruder comes hunting. There's a thick bunch of trees there, but everyone expects trees. When the Careers hunt we always look in the groves first. No- what I want is some sort of cave or high ground. I can't have anything too obvious, but something with a vantage point. I feel like I'm shopping for a new house or a better boat. Or that Shoalle is looking for clothes. She's pickier than I am with my weapons at the training center.
There's a dark spot on top of a small boulder, that's almost perfect for watching the terrain. I clamber on top of the stone and the darkness is a little indentation, sheltering its inhabitants from the wind. It seems perfect, but then I sit in the little pit. From the front, it's perfect for just about everything. When someone climbs up… their entire back is exposed to anyone coming from being. I scramble down from the spot and keep looking.
F8: ROSE TRINITY
The skidding rocks aren't stable yet from being slightly dislodged in the avalanche two days ago and I almost twist my ankle as I send one stone knocking down the mountain. My hands aren't as swollen anymore, but my stomach is tight with hunger again. And, a little bit more urgent, my throat is parched from lack of water. For what must be the hundredth time in these Games- why did I volunteer for these Games?- I'm thirsty, and if I don't get water today I am going to die. I haven't gotten a sponsor gift, but I know everyone can see how desperate I am. I cough and hack, doubling over as the agonizing coughs tear my throat to pieces. I almost retch. The stones aren't a comfortable place to rest, so I have to keep walking. My feet ache so badly, but I can't rest. I have to keep moving. If I didn't have the resolve I do, I'd be dead long ago. I'd be home already if I hadn't learned to be strong after Grandfather died. It's terrible to always be alone in your own home, but now it's probably saved my life. Even if I don't have any more stupid sponsors.
There's only one more chance. I'm not risking an illness again with the groundwater- the Gamemakers have probably made it dirtier in case I try it again. They want me to die. There's only one more source of water- the awful black lake. I don't know if it will kill me or not, but I know the groundwater will. I'll take the lesser of two evils, please. There's only one problem now, though. Marius is camping down there. He's not at the Cornucopia and the last time I was near there he was walking towards the lake. I'll have to take my chances. It's either take an uncertain risk or definitely starve to death. To me, that's a pretty obvious choice. I pick my way, step by step, down the slope. Suddenly, a rock slips out from under my foot and clatters down the mountain as I fall to the ground. I clench my teeth and hold back a cry. When I regain my footing my lower back hurts like crap. Limping a little bit, I force myself to keep walking. Soon the overhead sun glints off the lake and I breathe a sigh of relief. Wait. Marius could be nearby. I freeze, but nobody comes charging out of the bushes to attack me. Good. I keep walking.
The black water looks like the sludge that comes from the machines at the cloth factory and I cringe. I plan to drink that stuff? Gross! But I have to. I don't think anyone has died from the water, so it could well be safe. Or its horrible appearance could simply have scared everyone away from the lake entirely. Those dark thoughts are quickly shoved away by my thirst. I force myself to walk cautiously instead of running to the lake's edge. The black water doesn't leave any residue on its shore so far as I can see, but I'm slightly focused on something else. There's a tent set up on a flat rock- Marius. I creep like a whisper up behind the structure. Marius isn't visible anywhere else, so if he's here he has to be inside. I can't get my hope up yet. Slowly, warily, I place one ear against the canvas. No movement or breathing comes from inside. Marius is gone. I could cheer, but I still don't know where he is.
I kneel down beside the dark water. Cupping my hands, I scoop up some of the stuff and stare at it reluctantly. I really don't want to drink that. It really is black water. I've got no other choice, though. Hands shaking, I lift it to my mouth and dump it down my throat before I have a chance to actually taste it. It's cold and I don't start convulsing. The water is safe. Soon I'm slurping up handful after handful, but an itch at the back of my head makes me scratch there instead of drinking more water. Wait a second- that's the muttation sense. Ever so slowly, I look up.
Nothing, right away. But then I see a ferret with reddish-brown fur watching me curiously. I turn my head to one side. It does also. I lean forward. So does the ferret. I brush my hair out of my eyes; it scratches its ears with its paw. Its clever gaze burns into me. This is my muttation. I stand slowly and hold my hand out to it. But it's across the lake and can't sniff my hand like a dog. However, it stands on its back legs and paws at the air. I crack a smile- it's been so long that my lips stretch uncomfortably.
I sit cross-legged in the pebbly soil. The ferret leans down to the water, on all fours again, and laps at the surface. The black ripples spread out, all the way to my feet, and I look into the water. If I stare hard enough, I can make out the bottom of the lake. That's weird. There's a patch of gravel that doesn't look like stones. Something on the bottom of the lake stirs and an eye, yellow and visible through the dark water, opens in the strange patch of silt. Another mutt. I scrabble backwards on the rocks, but the thing swims in a different direction. Soon it becomes larger and I realize it's coming towards the surface. Towards the ferret.
The crocodile bursts from the water and my ferret, startled, squeals and tries to jump out of the way. I scream, but my neck hurts terribly as the crocodile snaps its great jaws around the ferret. It pulls my muttation underneath the surface and the water churns as it goes into a death roll. Both my mutt and I shriek in agony. Black throbs at the edges of my vision; the ferret's limbs spin as the reptile crushes the life out of it. The surface of the black lake turns crimson as I realize that my thirst wasn't the most pressing issue.
M6: GABRIEL GROW
Seriously- I managed to pick up the poison from the ground? I swipe my dry tongue around the inside of my parched mouth and groan a little inside. Why does it have to look so much like water? I consider throwing it into the bushes that surround me or dump it out, but it could be useful. That is, if I don't fall for it first. I have to settle for propping it underneath my head like some sort of squishy pillow. At least I can't see it there, and it can't tempt me half as much. I can get dew from the plants in the mornings and the fog drizzled a little bit of extra water, but that doesn't last a person long in the tension-filled, always-keep-on-the-move arena. I think I've already sweated out all the liquid I drank today and it's barely past noon. Ugh. Even in District Six, I never worked so hard. And all I've been doing is running. And hiding. And wishing. When Ebony came into that cave trying to kill me, I almost died of fear. Even now, she can't be far away. I didn't go far last night after the girl left. I can't call out in frustration or anything- if I talk in my sleep, I'm dead.
Soon I start to cramp up, especially in my legs, and I stand. All I have to carry is the poison, so I dash from the thicket I've been hiding in and disappear as best as I can into the trees. The woods are empty as far as I can see, so I relax a little and walk. I'm not sure where I'm going, or what I would do if I ran into another tribute, but it feels right to keep moving. I feel like a frightened animal, always looking over my shoulder and jumping nervously at every little sound. Really, though, for all I know it could be deranged Ebony coming at me again. I close my eyes for a moment. Oh, how I wish I were with Ella back home now! I hate this arena, I hate the Capitol. All I want is home; my father, Ella and District Six fill my mind.
"Got to keep moving, Gabe," I mutter to myself. When the cannon fires, I'm so caught up in keeping watch for others that I barely notice until the sound is fading away. Four left. Four left? I'm only three lives lost from home. I hate thinking in these murderous terms, but it's the way everything in the arena works. Everything revolves around death and I can't stand being a part of it. Someone died today, and all I can think is that I'm happy to be closer to home? What an animalistic instinct. I rub my temples. What am I turning into?
A harsh voice grates on my ears; somewhere in the forest a tribute calls out. "Marius?" Crap. Ebony is nearby and she could be on my rail yet again. I freeze, my stomach churning wildly. I can't run fast- I'm still sore from the last chase and I can't keep up my endurance with such a dry mouth. I can't kill Ebony right out. I'm not that person- not yet, anyways. I turn away from the direction the voice is coming from and creep through the trees. I feel terribly paranoid. "MARIUS?!" Ebony croaks again from her place. Don't see me. Her voice bounces through the trees; I can't pinpoint where she is at all! Don't see me. I dare to go a little faster. Don't see me. I wrap my fingers around the little horse charm in my pocket and think happy thoughts for a few seconds. Adrenaline won't work when there's an insane person coming after you. I need hope more than anything. Beneath my foot, the most cliché thing ever happens.
A twig snaps.
Ebony goes dead quiet, wherever she is. My heart pounds. "Hello…" she whispers, the noise twisting like a snake through the air. A footstep, strange and unsteady. Ebony bursts through the underbrush directly on my left and we both scream- I in surprise and fear and she in glee. I run. Now adrenaline courses through my veins- paired with my hope, I feel unstoppable if not for the dryness in my throat. Ebony hesitates for a moment, probably trying to decide who I was, but she hasn't changed a bit. She runs after me, screaming that she has found Marius again and she wants to dance. She's farther gone than I originally thought she was. Soon the roots of the trees begin to trip both of us and I notice I'm holding onto both the horse charm and the bottle of poison with white-knuckled hands. Shoving the horse back into my pocket, I juggle the clear liquid for a second and try to decide if I should throw it at Ebony or not. No- she has water, she won't stop to pick up this bottle when she's on the hunt.
I keep running, the breath tearing painfully in and out of my lungs. I have to lose her again, trick her in some way. I have to get to a familiar setting, and the only places I will know my way around well are the Cornucopia valley and the cave where my first alliance spent our nights until the Careers found Delilah and Scar. I won't be able to go back to that cave without an overload of memories and emotions. To the Cornucopia it is, then. Ebony chases and I run. There are four left. That means half of them are right here, about to confront each other. I can't formulate a plan as I dash through the forest, but when I get to the valley I won't be able to do anything but turn around. I'm stronger. I have to stand my ground once and for all.
F3: MIKHAIL FREY
I'm the last one in the mountains, then. I track Ebony as she chases the boy, but her bloodlust is weaker than Gabriel's - NOT Marius's- fear and motivation and she slowly falls back. I do too- I wouldn't put it past Ebony to think even I'm Marius, or, just about as likely as that, kill me anyways and dirty her bolt. The stars are brighter here, if they're real, than they ever were in District Three. Curse all those factory production fumes and smoke. The anthem plays. I've always hated the anthem of Panem. It's so upbeat, when all the Capitol does is gorge itself and kill teenagers of its realm. Why don't they make then anthem symbolize their acts? If I were a Capitol songwriter, I would give the President a tape of crows cawing at a carcass. Something fitting, like that. I wouldn't even care if it got me killed. Rose Trinity's face appears in the sky and then fades. It's the last time any of us will ever see Rose. I haven't even seen her in the Games. The stupid Anthem plays again and I rub at my shoulder blade. The crows don't sound so bad, really. They sound more like they talk to one another. That's why I risked my family's wrath, a year ago, to do what I did. I take off my jacket and, through the frayed and worn fabric of my tunic, I can see the tattoo. I never got attention in the family. My older siblings did. Kanzy's the oldest sibling in her immediate family, and she says that her little brother always gets babied and spoiled as the youngest. Well, my family was always a bit backwards.
I wanted their attention, so I went to the club section of the main city. Three crows flew across my shoulder that night, and my parents flew at them in a rage. They couldn't quite believe what I'd done. The next morning, when my rush wore off and the pain set in, I couldn't believe it either. It's always going to be a part of me, whether my stylists like it or not. The prep team wasn't as appalled as my family, but they didn't like having a previously altered tribute. Nothing short of surgery and a lot of that stuff they use to knock you out is gonna get these three crows off my back.
The only other time my family paid so much attention to me was after the reaping. I got the attention I craved, but perhaps at the price of my life. I don't suppose I'll be ignored if I get home. When I get home- no, that just sounds halfhearted. I'll take the chance and use all my energy to get home on the fight, not the plans before. I'm still exhausted from mourning my short-lived allies. I can't take scheming, not even if it meant my plans could take down the Capitol.
I still have water. I mean, how good is that? I'm not good at being optimistic, but I still have water! Vulkin returned it to me with his death- that's right, I've been mourning the thirteen-year-old along with his fellow tributes. Everyone I've killed was younger than me. That makes it worse. I may have water, but Shaka, Ira, Vulkin, and Wyndle don't even have their lives to celebrate. I lower the bottle from my lips and shove it away from me. I think I'll have a little bit of a vigil to commit them to memory. People- the victors- say they want to forget, but what happens if they do? Twenty-three lives are forgotten by another person. I never want to forget these four, at least.
I'm the last one in the mountains. Marius returned to his little camp for the night and Rose… she's gone. Ebony and Gabriel were running towards the Cornucopia valley. Maybe the three older tributes will finish each other off and then I can go home and not add another person to my memory.
5th: D8F Rose Trinity
Wow, are you excited to get to the finale with me?!