Thank you to my beta MaxMan667 for proofreading this chapter!
Blossom Urakaka (15)- D9F
I'm woken in the early morning by the unmistakable sound of a cannon shot. I blearily roll on the soft ground, looking toward the sky. The stars are still peeking out from behind the clouds; the air sharp and chilly. The wind whistles through the branches of the trees above me. I shiver and huddle under the leaves of my makeshift bed. My fire from last night has dissipated, lightly smoking. I rise for a moment, listening carefully for any strange sounds. I do a short round of my territory with one of my handmade spears in hand, checking to see if any traps have been set off. From what I can see in the dark, nothing has been distrubed. I return to my little bed and use my flint to make a small fire. I shiver and pull my jacket tighter around myself, warming my bare feet by the flames. Nights in Nine could be cold, but at least we always had a hearth and warm blankets. What I would give for a nice heavy cowhide blanket right now.
Once my fire is smoldering nicely, I take a swig of water to quench my thirst and make a new bed in the soft dirt and leaves, feeling the mud in between my bare toes. I lay prone on the ground, staring up at the stars, feeling melancholy. I wonder who the dead tribute is. How many more need to die before I can return to a comfortable life in the Capitol? In order for that to happen, will I have to go face to face with a Career?
These thoughts are pointless, and yet I feel tortured by them. They crawl into my mind no matter how hard I try to push them out, seeping into the dark recesses of something that I didn't think I had anymore. Hope. In a strange way, I yearn for the earlier days of the Games when I thought that I would die in this arena. There was no pressure. No need for strategy or planning for the future. Only making the end of my life as comfortable and enjoyable as possible. Letting go of that thought is more difficult than I thought it would be.
I'm not even sure why my mind has changed so quickly. Maybe it was the realization that I could actually win. I could return to the Capitol and live the kind of life that I never hardly dared to dream of. The girl sentenced to death by fire, crowned victor of the Hunger Games. Or killed in a bloody battle by a Career. It's up to me which one comes true.
Raven Lavalee (17)- D7M
The cannon shot in the middle of the night makes me nervous. I've tried to keep going all night without stopping, but every step is like a weight in my chest, and I can feel the heaviness of liquid in my lungs. I have to stop and have a coughing fit every few minutes but I can't stop to rest. I'm Thimble's only hope. I can't even spare a thought for the idea that he might have been that cannon. He has to still be alive. This can't have all been for nothing.
My backpack bounces on my back with every step. I swing it from over my shoulder to make sure the feast items are still there. The vial of liquid and the bunch of herbs are safe and sound with my meager amount of food. I zip it back up and start again on my journey. For a second I forget which way to go. The broad stretch of meadow seems endless. I take note of the position of the rising sun and head south. Soft pink and blue streaks across the sky. After hours of running to and from the Cornucopia, my legs feel ready to give out. As I'm watching the sky, I see a hovercraft in the distance, rising up away from the arena. I feel a sudden sense of dread. No...
I keep going. I couldn't save Sparrow but I can save Thimble.
I make it to the coast an hour or so later. "Thimble…" I call out weakly, making for our camp. "Thimble, please be alive..."
I make it to the edge of the cliff, the sound of the whirlpool below guiding my way. I peer over the ravine. "Thimble…?"
His precipice of rock is bare. He's gone. Thimble is dead. He died alone, exhausted, and probably terrified. Completely drained, I sink to my knees on the hard wet rock, staring at the swirling whirlpool below. I sling my backpack off my shoulder and dig into it for the herbs within. I clench the bunch of brittle herbs in my fist, jaw clenched as I stare down at the whirlpool. The three-headed monster hidden in the rocks below peeks out from its cave, one of the heads baring its fangs. The eyes are piercing and sadistic. The three maws drip with drool.
I grit my teeth and roar loudly, baring my own teeth at the mutt. I hurl the herbs with as much force as possible down over the cliff. The monster hisses in protest and tries to retreat back into its cave in vain. As the herbs draw close, its reptilian skin starts to bubble and melt and it howls in tremendous pain. Its bones fall into the whirlpool below, whose swirling water stills into a calm. The water turns crystal clear, perfectly blue like the rest of the water off the coast.
I collapse onto the rock, eyes closed. I would cry, but I'm too dehydrated. I lay there for what seems like forever. I couldn't save Sparrow. Or Thimble. Or even myself.
I blearily open my eyes, blinking up at the blue sky above me. I groan and turn my head, taking in the softly blowing grass and dust of the cliffs, smelling the salt of the seawater and listening to the sounds of the waves against the rocks below. I turn my head the other way and realize the water is not just below the cliff… it's much closer now.
I stand quickly, realizing a small stream of water is flowing right by my feet, through the sharp crags, slipping down the cliff to the ocean below. I scuttle over to the stream, cupping my hands together and slurping up water as fast as possible. The water tastes more delicious than the most exquisite Capitol food. After drinking my fill, I sit back with a clearer head than I've had in days. I realize I'm too exposed out here on the rocks. Now that I've somehow summoned this stream, tributes will soon be on their way.
I gaze over the horizon to the island. Flux is still alive. If Sparrow and I can't win, I need to make sure Flux does. It's been days since she left for the island. If she's in trouble, I need to get to her.
Luna Everett (12)- D11F
We're not a story, you know? Not like the story I told you yesterday. That's not us.
Thorn's last words to me echo in my head as I amble along through the tall grass. My knife hangs limply between my fingers, dragging on the ground. I suddenly become aware that my throat is incredibly dry. When was the last time I ate something? Drank something? I didn't this morning, and I definitely didn't last night. I sigh and sit in the green and yellow grasses, feeling their tips brush against my face. I dig into my jacket pocket to retrieve some of the roasted fish that Thorn and I caught before the feast. I try not to cry as I take a bite into its midsection. I chew around the bones and spit them out. I can't even taste the food. If I swallowed some of those bones, I wouldn't even notice.
Once I've eaten a bit and taken a few drinks of water, I put my head between my legs and cover it with my arms. The warm sun sears my back, the grass tickles my skin, a small spider crawls up my leg. I flick it away. I feel my eyes fill with tears, my throat clogged up. I can't just keep crying. The Capitolites appreciate emotion over a dead ally, but show too much weakness and you're just a piece of prey to be mowed down by someone more worthy.
But how can I hold back my tears? I see Thorn's face behind my eyes, his devilish smile and eyes twinkling with mischief.
I glance over to the bones of the fish that I disposed of in the grass. Spiders seem to have found my trash heap. A small swarm is circling the bones. I make a noise of disgust and stand, grabbing my knife and shaking off a few stray spiders.
I need to keep moving. I spent so long trying to convince Thorn that I was a worthy ally; that I wasn't some stupid little girl. Now I have to prove it to the Capitol.
Flux DuBois(14)- D8F
If it weren't for the uneven surface of the statue below me, I would be able to fall asleep. Even the low growling of the tigers around the room has a strange comforting quality. I smirk to myself as the breeze lightly brushes my face. I wish I could make the most of everything like you can. Kaine's words float through my mind. His smiling face and shaking head appear in front of my eyes. I can almost hear and touch him. I glance down to see one lion drinking the water below me. Most of the others seem to have forgotten about me, but when I make too much noise, all of their heads perk up again, staring up at me on the statue. Their low roars remind me that they aren't my own little lullaby machines. They were sent by the Gamemakers to kill me. If I don't die of dehydration first. At least I got to have a good long drink yesterday, but my tongue already feels dry again.
I gaze out over the island, the tall trees and green grass speckled with yellow swaying the wind. The smell of the saltwater from the shore. The roof of the building prevents me from seeing the sky, but I imagine it's a bright, sunny day out. If I don't want to see Thimble or Raven's faces up there soon, I need to hurry and get back.
I glance over to where my bag of water is lying on the ground, perfectly undisturbed by the cats. If I grab the bag and make a run for it, I'll be able to get to the boat and shove off the shore before any of them reach me. But that's assuming I can outrun a group of tigers and lions with a twisted ankle. By now it's turned a deep purple color and has started to swell. I wince when I move my leg a little. If only I could figure out a distraction. I've been waiting for them all to go to sleep, but it never happens all at once. They only sleep a few at a time.
I run my fingers over the inscription under the arm of the statue. I realized after being up here for a few hours that the woman's arm was holding something- a vial of liquid. The inscription took a few tries to read upside down, but I finally put it together. Not that it makes any sense anyway.
The cause of the curse
Is the flesh impure
And the liquid obscure
Is the curse cured
It has to be important, but I'm not sure how. The Gamemakers seem to have put these cats here to guard something other than just water. I peek around the room, pleased to see that the cats are otherwise occupied. A few are tearing up a carcass of what looks like a boar. Others are snoozing by the water. A large group are playing on the opposite side of the room. Now is better than never.
I slowly pull my backpack from my back and rummage through it for my hatchet. I grip it tightly in my hand, eyes darting around the room. I reach out and grab the vial of liquid and place it securely in my pack, then swing it over my back. None of the cats seem to care about what I'm doing.
I take a deep breath, Raven and Thimble's faces flashing before my eyes. I drop down onto the ground and sprint toward the water bag. I hear a growl from behind me, much closer than I anticipated, then a loud roar. My ankle twinges, and then suddenly hurts even more, but I keep moving. I grab the water and keep moving. I can't stop, no matter what.
Marlowe Bahari (18)- D4F
I hiss in pain as I press the rag to the wound in my shoulder. Luckily, Leto was able to help remove the rest of the arrow without any trouble, but I'll still have the scars for the rest of my life. I'm glad. Nothing shows a worthy victor like a nasty, visible scar. Once I get my revenge on that little bald bitch and kill everyone else, then I'll be worthy of this scar.
After the feast, we decided to rest at the Cornucopia for the night. I had been angry at first, wanting to go after Caillou and wrap my hands around her neck, strangle her until she turns blue and limp in my hands. But even I knew that I had to relax after getting injured. I wouldn't be able to hunt her down with a pierced shoulder. The wound stings as I roll my shoulder, glaring out of the mouth of the Cornucopia to where Leto is practicing her whip. Passion is watching passively, idly twirling her mace around. I sigh and take the rag from my shoulder with a wince. The wound isn't bleeding as much anymore. Maybe I could finally wrap it.
"Passion!" I shout. "Stop pretending to practice and come help me with this!"
She glances over to me, a hand on her hip. She sashays her way over with narrowed eyes. "Don't speak to me like that," she complains. Still, she sits beside me and unwraps the bandage we found in one of the med kits at the Cornucopia. She wraps it tightly around my shoulder, making me hiss in pain. Once the bandage is secure, I roll my shoulder a few times to make sure it stays on. Passion pops her tongue and glances over at the mouth of the Cornucopia. Leto is approaching, sweat gleaming on her face and neck. She snaps her whip once and passion rolls her eyes beside me.
"The two of us should go to hunt now," she says, her voice flat.
I begin to pick myself up off the ground until I hear her sharp objection. "Not you."
I look up at her incredulously. Passion stands. I can practically feel the smug pride radiating off of her.
"What do you mean, 'not me'?" I ask darkly.
"Passion and I will search the forest for tributes. You said you saw the Caillou girl heading that direction."
"I should be the one to kill her!" I exclaim. I struggle to my feet, feeling a tugging sensation in my shoulder. "You will not steal my kill from me."
"Marlowe," Leto says in an even voice, her face totally blank. "You are not well enough to go hunting. The wound might get infected. Stay here to guard the Cornucopia. You might still get a kill that way."
I shake my head furiously. My golden hair spills over my shoulders, natted with my own blood. "I won't stay here while you two get all the action!" I snarl.
Passion sighs scornfully. "Like you've done so much for the alliance, fish bitch" she says. "You've only gotten two kills! Well, more like one and half."
Chest heaving in anger, I shove her with all my strength, reaching for my baton. Passion grabs one of the mini-axes at her belt.
"Stop it, both of you!" Leto shouts. Her dark eyes pierce my soul. She looks back and forth between us several times until Passion lets her axe-hilt slide back into her belt. Leto lets out a huge sigh of exasperation. "There will be no arguing."
She starts to walk away, until I lift my baton and twirl it in her direction. She turns back just in time, and with a loud crack, her whip is wrapped around my blade. We stare at each other for a moment before the whip slackens and its tail falls to the ground. Her intense gaze doesn't soften. Passion seems bored as she watches the two of us.
I grip my baton tighter. "Fine," I spit out. I grab my pack and an extra bag of food and walk past both of them, out into the sun. Neither of them try to stop me as I march resolutely toward the trees. If this alliance isn't serving me, then there's no reason for me to stay. I trained all my life for this. I won't let two arrogant girls get in my way. And the next time we meet, my wound will be healed. And my baton will taste blood.
Logan Wheeler (18)- D6M
My stomach growls. I've gotten used to the hunger by now, but the thirst is unbearable. I force myself not to drink any of my water yet. It feels heavy in my backpack and my sword lies heavy where it's strapped against it, the sweltering sun scalding my face, sweat dripping off my neck. I keep my eyes fixed on the mysterious mound up ahead. I originally thought it was a grove of trees, but now it looks more like a large pile of stones.
One foot after the other, hours on end. As I get closer, I realize it's not just a pile of stones; it's a group of ruins, partially overtaken by nature. Vines snake over the destroyed walls; marble columns lay in piles on the ground. A marble floor is cracked and teeming with weeds. There's some kind of mosaic in the floor that is partially covered with grass. I lean down to try and make it out when I hear the unmistakable sound of air under wings. A rather large pair of wings.
I look up and blanch at the creature in front of me, falling back onto the ground. A giant cat head greets me, attached to a fur-covered neck and body, a pair of huge feathered wings extended from its flanks. The creature is nestled in between ruined walls. It stares at me with yellow feline eyes. I see two pairs of paws curled underneath its body. A snake tail flicks behind its body, large enough to knock someone off their feet.
I scramble to my feet, backing up until I hit a collapsed wall. The creature doesn't move toward me or even away, but rather simply observes me with curiosity. My eyes are drawn down to the mosaic on the floor again. I realize it's the Capitol insignia, with words in black laid over it. I glance up at the creature, but it doesn't seem to be moving. I lean down to brush away some dirt and grass from the mosaic.
What carries a scythe in the morning,
a sword at midday,
And a scepter in the evening?
I glance back up at the creature. It watches me closely with inquisitive eyes. I breathe out shakily. Behind it, I notice what looks like a stash of brightly colored food. My eyes rave over the plates of Capitolite cakes, pastries, sauces. A pot of soup and a platter of roasted duck wink at me from behind the creature's body. It's snake tail swishes and blocks my view once again.
My stomach growls again. Guess I'm not so used to the hunger after all. I take my backpack off and reach in for my water bottle, taking a large drink to hopefully take the edge off. The creature watches my every move. I twist the cap back onto my canteen and place it on the ground. I peer into my backpack at my measly bag of dried jerky. It's almost completely gone. I gaze longingly over at the feast behind the creature, then back up at its face. It doesn't seem aggressive…
I take a step toward. The creature doesn't move, still watching me passively. Another step, and it still doesn't move. I let out a loud breath, then walk freely toward the food.
I'm suddenly slammed back onto the mosaic. My breath is knocked out of me, the point of impact in my stomach aching. The creatures' lion paw returns back to the ground, and its yellow eyes continue watching me keenly.
I stand and huff in frustration. "Stupid animal," I growl. "Let me pass!"
The creature blinks at me quizzically.
I draw my sword, its blade gleaming in the hot sunlight. The feline eyes harden at this, and it hisses loudly. The noise resounds off the marble ruins. I snarl at the creature, lunging toward it just to be knocked back once again. The sword flies out of my hand and onto the mosaic. I stare up at the sky, littered with a few fluffy white clouds. I need a better way to get to that food.
Caillou Wight (17)- D3F
The trees are dense, so thick that I can barely see the sky. I idly mess with my prosthetic finger on my left hand. I'm still trying to get used to the feeling of having all ten.
I'm also getting used to the feeling of knowing that I caused someone's death. It's a weird kind of grief. I never knew the boy from Eleven, but seeing his face in the sky last night gave me a strange queasy sensation in my stomach. I can still hear the little girl's squeal of fear ringing in my ears.
A twig snaps in the distance and I nearly jump out of my skin. I let out a deep breath, deciding to take a moment to rest. Despite the foliage blocking out the sun, the heat is still nearly unbearable. I gently sit in the grass, putting my head between my knees for a moment. The image of my hand shoving an arrow into that Career's shoulder replays behind my eyelids. She had snuck up on me after I grabbed the crossbow at the feast table. I had been surprised that the wound in her shoulder didn't immediately start bleeding, but after I ran away and looked back for a second, the blood staining her jumpsuit had been like a shot of adrenaline. I gulp and slowly stand, blinking rapidly. I can't let these incidents affect me. The Capitol will jump at any hint of weakness.
I open my eyes and sigh again, trying to clear my mind. I gaze down at my crossed legs and the green grass beneath them. A small insect crawls over my ankle. The sound of the leaves blowing in the breeze reaches my ears. I inhale deeply, then slowly stand. I reach for my bow that's sitting on the ground beside me, examining its golden sheen. I draw an arrow from underneath the bow and notch it into the bowstring, aiming it at a nearby tree trunk. The prosthetic finger pulls against the string. I steady my breath and let the arrow loose.
It barely misses the trunk, flying past it into the underbrush. I jog over to retrieve it, then notch it once again and draw it back, aiming at a different trunk. I try to recall the trainer's hands on mine, pointing and stabilizing them. I let out a breath to help with my aim. I adjust my hand on the bow in the way that the trainer told me to, and suddenly realize that the prosthetic gives me better stability. I close my eyes for a moment before opening them again and pin-pointing my target. I release the arrow again. This time, it squarely lands onto the wood of the tree. I grin slowly, rotating the bow in my hands. It seems that some of my training did stick with me. I examine my new fake finger, the grin still on my face. I never realized how my grip had changed after losing my finger. I had lost it so young that I forgot what it was like to be able to hold things steady.
I practice for the better part of an hour with my new crossbow, getting used to my new finger. My aim is way better than it ever was in training. I can reload the bow so much easier with all five fingers on my left hand. I can hit almost every close-range target if I take a few moments to aim. Long-range targets are harder, but I hit them about half the time. I only stop once the sun starts to set and my stomach is growling. I glance around the forest, realizing I should move farther away from the Cornucopia and find a place to stay for the night and eat some of my berries.
While I'm gathering all of my supplies, I feel an intense itch on my leg. I reach down to scratch it, but it doesn't help. I pull my pant-leg up with a frown, then my eyes widen when I see the large rash covering my entire leg below the knee. I scramble for my eucalyptus, scoping some up with my fingers and applying it to the rash. I don't have much left, I realize as I quietly panic. I grab my cream and also smooth some of it over the sheer layer of eucalyptus. I try to calm my breathing. It's probably just a minor rash. Probably.
Leto Larston (18)- D2F
Passion and I have spent the rest of the day sitting at the Cornucopia. Passion doesn't seem bothered by Marlowe leaving, just twirling around her mini-axes and snacking on crackers and dried fruit. I've been patrolling the Cornucopia, watching for any straggler tributes, but haven't seen anything except birds and squirrels. After a few hours of contemplation, I know what I need to do.
I approach Passion at the mouth of the golden horn. She's munching on an apple when I approach, her green eyes following my movement.
"I'm leaving," I say.
She raises an eyebrow. Her perfectly manicured black brows have grown out so that she looks like one of the tributes from an outer district. Her expression gives her away as a Career though; no untrained tribute would have that assured confidence in their eyes. Despite her confidence, she's still not the kind of ally that I wished to have during my Games. It would have been better if Callum survived the bloodbath and she had been killed. She may be gifted at killing, but she's selfish and reckless. She killed the boy from Eleven, but the girl from Three wouldn't have escaped if she had stayed at the Cornucopia instead of running off after him. And Marlowe wouldn't have been injured.
"What do you mean?" she asks, sounding bored.
"The alliance is over," I say. "I'm taking my things and leaving. You can have the Cornucopia."
Passion is silent, watching me pack up some supplies. I grab a curved knife just in case I end up in close combat, then start packing up on food. A large first aid kit sits pristinely on top of a large crate. I stuff it into my backpack, then grab a second smaller bag that contains a blanket and several bottles of water and some empty canteens. I spot a fire-making kit on the ground and grab that as well. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the objects from the feast. Marlowe's pick. She must have forgotten it when she left. The smooth stone had been behind a picture of a dragon on the feast table before she had picked it as her feast item. She had chosen it since it could be used to bash someone's head in, but I know the feast items have a more strategic use. Like Claudius Templesmith said, they can be used to defeat some kind of beast in the arena to obtain a resource. In case I come across that dragon, I should take this with me along with my own feast item.
"You really want to end the alliance?" Passion asks from behind me.
I quickly shove the stone into my bag before she notices, then sling the bags over my shoulder and stand, locking eyes with her. "Yes. It's time."
Passion gazes at me curiously for a few moments, then shrugs. "If that's what you want." She smirks, hand on her hip as she assesses the Cornucopia. "I'll have this whole place to myself with you gone," she says, voice dripping in satisfaction.
There's no point in making conversation. Once I've finished gathering my things, I turn to Passion and hold out my hand in the way that the mentors at the Academy always taught us. "May the odds be ever in your favor," I say solemnly.
Passion meets my eyes and hesitates for a moment before shaking my hand. This is the proper way to end an alliance in the Hunger Games. Not what Marlowe did. With one last nod to Passion, I walk out of the Cornucopia and into the sun. I immediately head towards the rolling hills to the northwest. I haven't explored much of this part of the arena, and I know that the remaining member of the alliance we destroyed fled this direction. If he's still over there, then maybe I can get another kill in before the finale.
I don't look back. I know that Passion won't follow me. She could if she really wanted to get rid of her biggest competition, but she'd also be killing her district's reputation. The Careers next year wouldn't be able to trust their One allies, and it would end badly for them. Even the other victors wouldn't respect her. Of course, Passion has always been selfish. But this point is drilled into our heads since the beginning of training. An honorable end to the alliance ensures that we both have a good chance at winning.
I trudge over hill after hill. Though they're small, constantly going up and down is exhausting. I keep moving until I can barely see ahead of me. I find a spot nestled between two hills and spread my body out in the soft green grass. I stare up at the emerging stars while trying to memorize the arena's map in my mind.
I've trained my whole life for this moment. I know how to end an alliance. Passion can keep the Cornucopia; I'll have some time to hunt before the final confrontation. I'm fully prepared to kill her if it comes down to it. The finale will likely happen in a week at the latest, and I have enough food and water to last twice that. I can do this, even without my allies. All I need to do is remember my training.
Raven Lavalée (17)- D7M
The water beneath my makeshift raft gently fluctuates, rocking me like a mother comforts her child. How long have I been floating here in this abyss? Minutes? Hours? Days? My mouth feels dry and sour. Is this how Thimble felt in his last moments? A hazy mind, blurry vision, a palpitating heart. The stars above twinkle at me in a faux-wink. The Gamemakers are making fun of me. I feel a cough build in my chest, and I hack over and over again, feeling like my lungs will slide out my throat. The raft bumps into something, and I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Sparrow?" I slur, blearily looking at the face hovering above mine.
Water splashes onto my face, and I desperately open my mouth to drink the lukewarm liquid. I greedily gulp it down until I'm satisfied, then sit up with less clouded eyes.
"Here, Raven."
Flux's dark eyes and curly black hair become clear, swimming in my vision. "Flux," I say raspily.
"Raven," she says, shaking her head. "You came all the way here?" She glances around, eyes wide. "Where's Thimble?"
I hang my head low. "It's just me."
A long silence ensues. Flux silently hands me a piece of roasted fish and I immediately dig in. I realize that there is blood on my jumpsuit. My coughing must have been worse than I realized. After eating, I take a clear look at my surroundings. The raft has finally reached its destination. The island's shores are sandy and warm. The trees inland gently blow in the wind. Flux sits beneath a statue of a woman with her hands outstretched, leaves and ivy growing up her legs and over her face.
I groan as I topple off of the raft and onto the sand. Flux's raft is on the shore not far away. Flux stares at me with concerned, downcast eyes.
"You found water, I see," I croak with a strained grin.
She raises an eyebrow. "I did."
"So did I, in fact-" My sentence is cut off by a large bout of coughing. Flux pats me on my back and sighs sadly. After a few moments, I lean back up and take some deep breaths. Blood has pooled in my palm. I wipe it on the sand and groan again.
The national anthem of Panem plays loudly throughout the arena, causing Flux and I to jump in fright. I stare with dread up at the sky, watching as Thimble's smiling face flashes over the stars.
"I was just about to leave to come find you two," Flux whispers, still staring up at the sky as the Capitol insignia is shown.
I swallow hard. "I went to the feast. I got this thing-" I pull out the vial of liquid that was behind the island plaque. "and a bunch of some herbs or something. But I…" I blink away tears, not wanting the cameras to pick it up. "I didn't get back to Thimble in time. By the time I used the herbs, he was already dead."
"I don't understand," Flux says with a frown. "You used the herbs? How?"
"The feast items kill certain beasts in the arena and give you access to some kind of resource, like Templesmith said in the announcement," I say. "This one has something to do with the island. And some kind of cats, too…"
Flux's eyes widen. "Cats?" She stares at the vial of liquid that I produced, then brings out her own little vial. I sit up in curiosity. It looks extremely similar to my own.
"I got water from further in the trees," she says, sounding more like her carefree self. "Had to get past a bunch of tigers and lions to get to it." She grins widely, dangling the vial in front of me.
I stare down at my own vial. "We must be able to use this to get some kind of resource."
"Already got it," Flux says with a grin. "This, and the water." She gestures to the bag of water sitting on the shore.
"We're going to need more water than that to survive the rest of the Games," I say solemnly. "The Gamemakers put this at the vial at the feast for a reason."
Flux nods, examining her own liquid. "Dunno what this actually is. There was some kind of stupid riddle next to it."
I lean back onto the wet sand. The smell of salt reaches my nostrils, as well as the roasted fish. "What did it say?"
"How the hell am I supposed to remember it?" she complains. "Something about curses and cures and flesh."
I frown to myself, twirling my own vial of liquid in my hand. "Well, maybe we can try to deal with those tigers tomorrow; what do you say?"
Flux grins, though I can sense a hint of sadness beneath the surface. "Sounds like a plan."
Luna Everett (12)- D11F
The yellow and green speckled grass has become so tall that I can barely see where I'm going. The spiders are underfoot, in fact they've gotten more and more numerous the farther I walk. With every step, I hear them crunching under my boots. Having worked in the trees ever since I was little, I'm not averse to insects, but the sheer number of them is unsettling. The sun has already set and the faces of the tribute who died today was already projected into the sky, but I don't want to find a place to stay for the night amidst all these spiders. I had tried to clear a spot earlier in the night to sit down and rest, but then I noticed that the spiders had gotten larger as well. Their plump bodies were unnerving.
I push aside another swath of grass, wishing I had a scythe or some other weapon to clear it. My tiny knife won't make much of a difference. I take a few more large steps, until suddenly I appear into a clearing. A small circle has been cut low in the grass, not like a natural clearing at all. In the moonlight, I can see that there are no spiders on the ground, which immediately makes me drop to my knees in gratitude and exhaustion. I take a deep breath and pull some of my water and fish out of my pack. I don't have much food left, but I can have a little nibble to settle my stomach before I sleep. I take a large swig of water before placing it back inside my pack as well. It's not exactly low, but I should ration it. It's what Thorn would want me to do.
I blink back tears about Thorn, reaching up to clutch the silver bird necklace that Jake gave me in our last meeting at the Justice Building. If I win this, then I can give Thorn's family some closure, if he has any. And I can ensure that his memory will never be forgotten.
After eating a bit, I walk around my little clearing to see if there are any surprise spiders. Finding none, I try to find a spot to settle down for the night when I see something gleaming in the moonlight. I stop in my tracks and squint at the strange object in the middle of the small clearing. I realize it's a flower; a very large and beautiful one with pink petals and bright green leaves. I approach it cautiously, not exactly trusting anything the Gamemakers put in here for us.
The flower has almost a sickly sweet scent. The Gamemakers probably meant for it to be seen in the sunlight for the first time. I can imagine the cameras zooming in on it; it's perfect pink color, its golden pollen. Maybe a bumblebee merrily hovering around it. I do feel some kind of pleasure in messing up the Gamemaker's plans.
I turn away from the flower for just a moment before stopping still in my tracks. The Gamemakers clearly placed it here for a reason, for good or ill. Should I find out which? Does this flower hold some kind of secret or resource that I need to win the Games? Will it help me achieve my goal of bringing justice to Thorn?
I gnaw on my lip and I try to decide what I should do. The flower looks like one that would rest in a Capitolite woman's vase. It looks meant to be picked.
I lean down and gently grasp the flower's stem. It comes out of the ground easily, as if this was what the Gamemakers wanted. I admire the flower with an inadvertent smile. It truly is beautiful, even if it might be a trap.
Suddenly, my bodysuit feels tight around me, and I look down to see it flashing bright in the darkness. When the light dies down, my clothing's golden sheen has changed to a dark grey. It's thicker as well, and much warmer. A pair of warm, thin gloves grow out from my sleeves to cover my hands. My heart is beating fast and I can feel panic spreading through my limbs, but nothing else happens. It seems the flower is designed to give me extra warmth?
I look back at the flower and see that it's wilted. The pink petals are withered and dry, falling onto the ground. The stem blows out of my hand in a cold breeze. A very cold one, in fact. I glance up at the sky, and feel taken aback when I see that storm clouds have gathered above the arena. I shiver and lay down on the grass, trying to hug myself to keep warm. I watch with dread as a snowflake falls from the sky and lands onto a blade of grass.
Obituaries:
10th) Thimble Brier (16)- D8M. Died of dehydration. Created by MatthewMJRichards. Thimble died in possibly the most painful and torturous way to die. He was such a sweet character who had a rough life, and he was one of my favorite POVs to write. It hurts to off him in this way, but I must have some realism in the story, I suppose. He's one of those characters that truly deserved to have a nice cushy life back home in Eight after everything that he's been through. I will truly miss him, and so will his friends who survive him in the arena.
The Kill stats have remained the same:
Kill Stats:
Most Kills:
Passion Mavros (17)- D1F- four kills: Sparrow, Alder, Pagani, and Thorn.
Tied for Second-Most Kills:
Leto Larston (18)- D2F- two kills: Rai and Volt
Marlowe Bahari (18)- D4F- two kills: Terra and Cyprian
Cyprian Clay (18)- D2M (dead)- two kills: Caiden and Jeremy
Faroud Pistris (18)- D4M (dead)- two kills: Dylan and Rylex
Third-Most Kills:
Pagani Chevy (16) (dead)- D6F- one kill: Callum.
How to we feel about the snow? Thimble's death? The Career alliance breaking up? The mutt that Logan has encountered? Let me know in a review! I'll see you guys next week ~