Who is it that updated just now? It's me! With Ultraviolence! I know it's been a long time. With everything that happened last year, I needed an extensive break from uploading. The break ended up being much long than I expected, but I'm back. I had to switch to online college which has been much more difficult than in-person classes, not to mention that this is my last year so I have a heavy workload. But I only have eight more weeks of school until I graduate!
At any rate, I've been writing and I have a few chapters ready to be uploaded. I'll be publishing them weekly and will continue writing. Of course, if you want to send in sponsor gifts, don't hesitate.
And if I've lost count of your sponsor points, please let me know.
Now onto the chapter. If you've all forgotten, the feast was announced last chapter. An action-packed feast chapter awaits.
Flux DuBois (14)- D8F
I wake the next morning with dew covering my face and neck and hands, the only uncovered parts of my body. I groan as I sit up, wiping the moisture away from my eyelids, sticking them into my mouth, reveling in the water on my tongue. I glance around, remembering where I am. The dense trees seem just as menacing, dark even under the sunlight. At the shore, the sea gently laps toward the island. I look out over the rocks for my raft, but I can't see it. It's either floated away or I just can't see it from here. I shrug, checking my pack to make sure everything is still there. With all of my supplies in order, I stand and take in the statue in the daytime. Its face is more visible in the light, but still crawling with ivy. Underneath the leaves, I see her sorrowful face and downturned eyes. With the dew that's built up on her face, it almost looks like she's crying.
Suddenly desperate for water, I wipe off the dew from the statue with a finger, sticking it into my mouth. The taste of dirt hardly registers with me over the sweet taste of cool water. I spend several more minutes gathering the moisture from the statue, but still step away from it not satisfied. I've learned to deal with a constant headache and fatigue since before I left for the island, but it's getting worse. Even my sleep last night was interrupted by the feast announcement, leaving me unable to sleep for some time afterward. It's difficult to know what Raven will do, and I'm torn between hoping he'll go to the feast, and concerned about his safety. The group of monsters that Claudius Templesmith mentioned must include the one that trapped Thimble on that cliff. If Raven manages to obtain its so-called 'weakness' at the feast, Thimble might be able to escape.
I shake away anxiety about my friends. Worrying won't accomplish anything. There's no use in worrying about them dying, or wishing I had stayed behind so I could have gone to the feast, or hoping I'll be able to see them again. Even if it's all I can think about… it's pointless. I need to look forward. The prospect of water in the woods makes it seem more inviting, my thirst and headache returning to throb through my head. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the journey to come.
I hike my pack farther up onto my shoulders and start walking. I step into the trees with my hand around my hatchet, prepared for any beasts or tributes to jump out at me, but nothing happens. The trees are so packed together that I almost feel like night has fallen again, but the sun shines through the leaves just enough that I can see. I push through the underbrush, keeping an eye out for any signs of life or food. My stomach rumbles, but I push forward, resolving to save my fish for later. After an hour or so, I'm panting and sweating in the humid heat, but I've seen rustles of wildlife in the leaves. Birds are audible overhead. I can hear the sounds of insects and distant foxes calling to each other. Life is on the island, which means there's water here. I have to keep going.
The hours blur as I walk. I suddenly feel faint at one point and have to stop and eat some fish. It's dry at this point, and doesn't relieve my thirst in the slightest. I glance up at the sky, but I can barely sun the sun. I can't tell what time it is, but no cannons have gone off yet. Either the feast hasn't happened yet, or no one died. I stand again and keep moving.
I might be hallucinating, but I think the trees are becoming less dense. As they span out farther, a small path emerges through the trees. I eagerly follow it, staggering along. The sound of running water reaches my ears and I could cry from relief if I weren't so dehydrated. As I round the corner of a group of trees, a strange site meets my eyes. It's a small marble building, built in the same style as the archway and statue at the edge of the woods. Steps lead up to a large open door, and I can hear the water flowing inside. Without thinking, I impatiently stumble up the stairs. I pass the huge marble columns into the building.
The first thing I notice is the stream of crystal clear water that flows beside the walls, like a moat inside the building. On the marble platform in the middle of the moat is a large statue of a woman with her hand outstretched. My heart sings with joy, and I collapse onto the ground and take in large gulps with my hands, relishing in the smooth, cool taste. Once I've drank my fill, I look up across the water before realizing what else is awaiting me on the marble floor.
A tiger lazily snoozes on the other side of the stream, in the middle of the room. His large ears prick at the sound of my gasp, and I scramble to my feet and back up onto the grass, heart pounding. My head quickly snaps around the room, noticing more tigers sleeping in the far corner and even a pair of lions sitting together on the opposite side. One of them glances in my direction and its giant golden eyes seem filled with something akin to hunger.
I turn tail and run. All I can hear is the sound of my own breath, my heavy footsteps beneath me, my heart pounding in my ears. I only stop when I realize that nothing is following me. I'm deep back within the trees, where hopefully none of those creatures will be able to see me. Bent over and breathing hard, I try to recover from my hasty retreat. It seems I'll need to figure out a different way to retrieve the water. I was a fool to think the Gamemakers would make it easy.
Luna Everett (12)- D11F
Thorn and I spend the morning looking for places to set traps. Our fish will run out eventually, and both of us spent enough time learning about traps in training that we'll be able to catch more food. We sit in the tops of trees, looking for little branches to use as rope, and shaving springy bark off of larger branches with our knives. I tie a piece of bark and smile, setting it into our pile. I glance over at Thorn, who is silent for once, fixating on his knife working over the tree trunk.
We had spent some time last night discussing whether or not we should go to the feast. Templesmith said that the feast will have weapons to defeat monsters that will give us resources, but now that we have water it almost seems pointless to attend… but we hardly had to talk about it before concluding that we would go anyway. Food is more scarce here in the woods than by the sea, and our water will also run out eventually. It would be foolish not to go.
"We need to stay on the edge of the woods," Thorn says abruptly. His face is blank, impassive. "If we decide to go in, I'll run in and steal something. You'll keep watch."
"In other words, stay out of danger," I say dryly.
He glances up at me. "Exactly. Is that a problem?"
I sigh, returning to my work. "No, I just wish you would stop treating me like a child. I can handle myself, and I can help you at the feast."
"You are a child," he says, so sharply that I look back up at him quickly. His brows are drawn together, his eyes staring at me. He shakes his head a little, his brown hair flopping around.
"I guess we all are," I say quietly.
We both sit in silence for several more minutes. I glance up at the sky every now and then, making sure that we're not losing track of time. After shaving enough bark off of the branches, Thorn and I tie up some traps on the forest floor. Hopefully by the time we return here tonight, we'll have some dinner here ready to be cooked. I finish tying a snare with nimble fingers, then sit up to see Thorn watching me.
"Did I do it right?" I ask curiously.
"Yeah, yeah," he says, gesturing toward the trap. "Just thinking about… later."
"We need to get going," I say. "Or we'll be late."
"Yeah," Thorn says quietly. He stands completely still, almost like he's frozen. I stand and brush the leaves and weeds from my legs, watching Thorn out of the side of my eye. He's staring up at the sky through the treetops. I hope he's not still affected by the singing he heard yesterday. I'm still not quite sure whether it was real or if he's just slowly losing it, but I suppose it doesn't matter. We're still in this together.
"Hey," I say softly, tugging at Thorn's sleeve.
He looks up suddenly, blinking with surprise. "Yeah?"
"We're gonna be fine," I say reassuringly. "Don't worry. We've gotten through the bloodbath, haven't we?"
I lightly tug on his sleeve again with a smile. He returns it timidly, clasping his other hand over my own. "Yeah… sorry. It's just… we're not a story, you know? Not like the story I told you yesterday. That's not us. It's not."
I nod slowly. "I know. We're going to survive."
He watches my face carefully for a few moments, then looks away. "Let's get going," he says easily, sounding more like himself. "Before the Careers take all our stuff."
Thimble Brier (16)- D8M
Raven is preparing for the feast above me, muttering to himself as he shaves some new spears from driftwood, skinning some fish to eat along the way. I've already tried convincing him not to go, but his resolve is too strong. He thinks that if he can find the weapon to kill the monster trapping me here, I'll be able to get out… but I know the chances are slim. Raven is too weak to fight his way out of the Cornucopia. If he returns, how will we kill the monster? Will I have to climb up the side of the cliff in my state? I'm too weak. My vision is blurry at the edges, and I'm so exhausted that I can barely move. I lightly raise a hand to block the sun out of my eyes.
"Raven," I say feebly.
My ally shuffles up on the surface and his distant, blurry face appears above me. "Thimble? Are you okay?"
I chuckle a little. "Just perfect. I just… wanted… to tell you something."
"Yeah?" he moves closer to the edge, peering down at me. "What is it?"
"I'm just…" I trail off to cough for a moment, my throat dry and aching. I hear Raven echoing me from up above, his own cough wetter and more painful-sounding. "I'm very grateful that you took care of me," I wheeze. "You never gave up on me, just like I asked."
I can hear Raven's smile in his voice as he responds. "Of course. I haven't given up on you yet, Thimble. I'm gonna get that weapon and get you out. Then we're gonna wait for Flux to come back, and we'll all survive to fight another day. Got it?"
I resist the urge to laugh at his hopeful sentiment. I doubt that I'll be able to survive the day, but I won't crush his spirit. "Thank you, Raven," I say weakly.
"I have to get going," Raven says awkwardly, standing up with help from one of his wooden spears.
My heart is suddenly in my throat. "Just be careful," I implore. "Don't die trying to save me."
"You think I would die for you?" Raven says teasingly. "I'm just doing this in case they have some of that Capitol risotto at the feast."
"Don't talk about food right now," I groan. I lean my face up to the sun again, missing his reply. By the time I glance up to the cliff again, Raven is gone. Maybe it's for the best. Goodbyes are always too hard. I look out over the water to the distant horizon, a smile appearing on my face despite myself. I could have a worse view.
Caillou Wight (17)- D3F
I've decided not to bring anything with me to the Cornucopia except my water. All of my other supplies are tucked away in the top of a tree, branches pulled all around it so it's not visible. I memorize the spot, the trees around it, the shape and texture of the trunk.
I take a swig of water and wipe my mouth, eyeing the sky. The sun is nearly high in the sky, meaning the feast will start soon. I glance around the forest, and slowly begin to make my way through the underbrush of the forest. I hear a distant rumbling sound from the sky, and see a vague gray shape moving above the trees toward the Cornucopia. The feast items have arrived.
I start moving faster, pushing weeds and fallen branches out of my way as I go, avoiding snapping any twigs or crunching any leaves. The rumbling noise flies above me again, and I imagine climbing onto an impossibly tall tree and jumping onto the hovercraft. I could cling to it until it reaches the Capitol, then sneak away onto a train and make it back to Three, and convince my mother and brother to run away with me. We could survive outside of Panem, just the three of us without ever thinking about the Hunger Games or the Capitol again.
A faint tinkling sound reaches my ears, pulling me out of my thoughts. I frown and look up, searching for the origin of the sound. I've heard it once before during the Games, when my mirror was given to me. Could my mentor be sending me something new?
A silver parachute gently floats down from the treetops, getting caught in a low-hanging branch. I eagerly shimmy up the trunk and grab it, wondering if the gift has something to do with the feast. I curl up on the branch, glancing around to make sure no one sees me, then crack open the box. The object inside is small, plain white, and thin, with strange straps attached to it. I curiously pick it up between two fingers, inspecting it carefully. Measuring it against my fingers, I realize what it is with a start. I line the object up with my left hand, where an empty space signals my missing ring finger. I wrap the straps around my palm, and the finger fits perfectly into the empty spot. The joint is even moveable when I touch it with my other hand. I smile to myself, even giggling as I wrap my left hand around the branch underneath me. It's strange to feel my ring finger after so many years without it.
I flex my fingers repeatedly, my smile fading. Why would my mentor send me this, and why now, right before the feast? Why would I need all of my fingers?
I drop down from the tree, taking another drink of water nervously, watching the trees around me. Claudius Templesmith had said that the feast will feature weapons or tools of some kind. I slowly move through the trees, mind buzzing. This has to mean something. I suppose I'll see what when I reach the feast.
Only fifteen more minutes of walking, and I can see the glint of the Cornucopia in the distance. I quickly find a tree and sit low on the branches, surveying the clearing for any tributes. I can't see anything except for the grass blowing in the wind, the glimmering Cornucopia, and the table beneath its mouth. The table is lined with objects, most of which are too far away for me to see. Each one has a small plaque in front of it, but I can't make out what's on them. I squint as I try to make them out. Most of them seem to be very small. The biggest one looks familiar, a shape I haven't seen since training. Realization hits me as I flex my fingers again. It's a bow and a quiver filled with arrows, a weapon that I'll need my missing finger to use accurately. I take a deep breath. My mentors saw these weapons and put their faith in me. They think I can get in and out with that bow, otherwise they wouldn't bother giving me the finger ahead of time. They want me to take the risk.
I take a deep breath, glancing around the arena. The Careers have to be close, probably waiting for other tributes to run out so they can attack them. I can't be the first one to try it; I have to wait for a distraction.
Suddenly, I hear a rustle down below me. I quickly look down and see the pair from Eleven. I remember them from training; the smug boy Thorn and the sweet little girl. They'll be a perfect distraction… but I hesitate. Can I really sacrifice another innocent tribute to save my own life? I gulp, watching below me as the boy creeps forward, looking out into the clearing with intent. This isn't the time for moral questions. I'm in the Hunger Games. I push down my queasiness and prepare to strike.
Passion Mavros (18)- D1F
I crouch down in the underbrush, peering around. The clearing is barren, but I know Leto and Marlowe are also just on the edge of the woods, waiting for the other tributes. We had to leave the Cornucopia for the hovercraft to bring down the feast items, which are underwhelming in my opinion. The announcement said they would be tools or weapons, but there's only one weapon that I can see; a bow and quiver of arrows that sits pristinely on the table. Perfect bait.
I lie in wait for a tribute to run toward the golden horn. We decided that Leto would stay at the back of the Cornucopia, watching for anyone who tries to sneak up from behind, while Marlowe is at the opposite end of the clearing as me. I've already taken my own feast item: a thick rope that I might be able to make some traps with. The little plaque beside it had an illustration of a woman with wild hair and a maniacal grin. She reminds me of myself.
The sun is high in the sky, but I haven't seen anything yet. I sigh quietly, starting to get bored. It's hot out, and I don't want to sit in these trees with the bugs and itchy weeds any longer than I have to.
I'm about to get up and start searching for tributes when I hear a sudden noise. I look over quickly to see the girl from Three leaping from a tree, pouncing down on a figure below her. I hear a high-pitched scream as I grab my mace and take the opportunity, pummelling through the underbrush toward my targets. As I get closer, I realize the pair from Eleven were the victims of the surprise attack. The girl from Three has disappeared by the time I arrive, but I run after the pair from Eleven as they run deeper into the forest.
"Run, Luna!" the boy yells, his eyes wide and frenzied as their feet bring them to the table at a lightning fast pace. I snarl as I speed after them, swinging my mace at their heels. The boy gestures past the Cornucopia, and Luna follows his instructions, crying out as she changes course and runs to the side. I pause in my pace for just a moment before picking up the pace again. A little girl doesn't pose a threat, but the older one needs to be eliminated. I chase after him with my mace swinging, laughing a little. Does he really think he'll be able to lose me?
I shriek loudly to scare him as we run. Eventually we both grow tired, and I feel sweat pouring down my face and throat. He has more stamina than I expected, but I force myself to keep going. He startles as my mace head touches his back, nearly ripping into his shirt, letting out a frightened yelp before continuing. I have to stop for just a moment to catch my breath, looking up at the sky.
My short break gives me enough energy to start sprinting again, nearly catching up to him. I can hear his heavy breaths as we continue onward. He trips over a weed and I desperately swing my mace in his direction, smashing it into his foot before he stands with a shout of pain. He shoots me a dirty glance as he starts running again, and I'm surprised by the lack of fear in his expression. My chest eaves with exertion, and I have to stop once more. He's injured. It won't be long now.
I start sprinting again, and suddenly I hear something familiar. It's a male voice, singing softly in the distance. I stop and look around warily. I remember this from when we traveled into the forest before. Up ahead, the boy is still running. I grip my mace tighter and head forward again.
Raven Lavalée (17)- D7M
I watch with bated breath as the girl from One chases after the pair from Eleven, peering out from my hiding spot in the underbrush. I glance around, keep my eyes peeled for the other Careers. They're nowhere to be seen, nor are any other tributes. Should I take my chance? I was hoping for a better distraction, one that would allow me to slip in and out without being noticed. But thinking about Thimble sitting alone on the cliff, thirsty and hungry, strengthens my resolve. I brace myself to run forward-
The girl from Three bursts through the trees, her face determined as she runs straight toward the table. I stop myself before I move out of the forest, watching her with awe. Then the golden girl from Four emerges to my right, baton in hand. She stalks behind her as quiet as a fox. Caillou grabs the bow from the table and turns to run back just as Marlowe swings her baton in her direction. Caillou ducks just in time, rolling out of the way.
I take in a deep breath and push myself forward. I just have to get the right item and slip out as soon as possible. I run as fast as I can, ignoring a need to cough. I pant as I manage to reach the table, glancing over at the battling tributes. Marlowe kicks Caillou square in the chest to get her on her back, lifting her baton to pierce her chest. The look in her eyes is manic, even possessed. Caillou sweeps her own feet under Marlowe's, causing her to fall beside her, the baton spearing into the ground. She lets out a yell of fury as Caillou scrambles to her feet.
I quickly turn back to the table, frantically looking at my choices. A few are already missing. A plaque with a picture of a bear has nothing behind it, nor does one with a wild-haired woman or another with a picture of a strange cat-like creature. I scan over the other options and immediately pick one with a picture of a three-headed snake accompanied by a generic swirl. It must be the whirlpool and the monster in the rocks. Behind the plaque is a bunch of herbs. I snatch it as fast as I can and nearly turn back around, before another plaque catches my interest. I recognize the shape that's depicted on the plaque. The shape is distinctly that of the far-off island on the horizon, the one that Flux set off for. Carved next to it is a large cat. I quickly grab the vial of liquid behind it and turn to run back into the trees.
I glance over at Marlowe as I go. She's kneeling on the grass, her chest covered with blood. A small shock of adrenaline runs through my body at the sight. An arrow sticks out of her shoulder, but she seems more disgusted about it than anything, glancing up at me with hate-filled eyes as I run away. Caillou rolls out from underneath her, clutching a bow in her hands.
I don't bother with the cover of the forest this time, instead heading straight for the beach. It will take several hours to get there, but shorter than taking the roundabout into the forest. I have to get to Thimble as soon as possible.
Thorn Guerra (16)- D11M
I cough as I try not to stop moving, my foot pulsing with pain. My pace has slowed to a near walk, but we're nearly there. I can hear the enticing song in the distance, my grandmother's voice just as I remember it from my childhood. I never thought I would hear it again, and yet it's the last sound I'll ever hear.
"Come on," I weakly taunt Passion behind me. "Come get me, Mavros."
She snarls at me as she struggles forward through the trees. "My family will make merchandise celebrating your death after I kill you," she growls, dragging her mace on the ground. Despite her threats, she seems distracted, eyes constantly glancing around the forest. Her black hair, always a perfectly smooth sheet around her face in training, is now a tangled mess. She bares her teeth at me as she stalks closer, and I keep moving until we finally emerge from the trees. The clearing is small, leading to the steep dropoff to the sea below. I can hear the faint sound of the waves lapping against the rocks, but it doesn't drown out the singing. It gets louder as we get closer to the edge. I drag my foot to the edge, resisting the song for as long as I can.
Passion approaches with hesitation, her eyes unfocused. "What is that singing?" she asks me sharply.
"So you can hear it too," I say with a weak smile. "Good. I'm not crazy." I heave in a breath, listening to my grandmother's alluring song.
"Callum?" Passion asks quietly, walking slowly to the edge. Her brow is furrowed with unease. "How…" she trails off.
I drag myself to my feet, peering over the edge myself. The water is pure blue and swirling around the gray rocks. I swear I can see something moving at the bottom, looking like a human figure. The person's hair is flowing wildly in the sea wind, a grin appearing on its face. I smile to myself as I stumble over to Passion.
"Say hello to him for me," I whisper, pushing her forward.
Passion digs her feet into the ground as she heaves forward, her arms flailing in the air as she tries to retake her balance. She should have fallen over the edge immediately, but instead it looks like she's standing on thin air. My heart jumps into my throat as I see the invisible platform glitch beneath her feet. She stands in midair for a moment to look down at the sea below, clearly just as confused as me, before turning to me with hate-filled eyes. She grabs my arm and shoves me over the edge. I watch as the platform glitches and disappears as I fall through it.
I don't scream as I fall through the air. My grandmother's song fills me with comfort as I plummet downward, and I can feel her rosemary earring against my neck, dangling in the wind. The salty spray and the feeling of cool air makes me smile just before I hit the rocks.
Leto Larston (18)- D2F
I lean back against the tail of the Cornucopia, running my fingers along my whip, keeping my eyes out for any tributes. I've heard commotion at the other end of the Cornucopia, but it's not my place to go investigate. My job is to catch anyone sneaking up from the back, or catch them trying to escape.
I sigh as a scream erupts from the other side of the Cornucopia. It sounds like Marlowe's voice. I hope it's just a warcry. I snap my whip once, hearing the crack resound off the ground.
Movement catches my eye to the left. My eyes narrow in on a small figure running at the perimeter of the clearing, past the few trees that line the beginning of the hills, heading in the direction of the prairie. I watch the tribute like a predator sighting its prey, cracking my whip once more and taking off.
I run as quietly as I can, following in the footsteps of the little tribute. I realize as I get closer that it's the little girl from Eleven. She's so small that the prairie grasses almost envelop her completely. I nearly get to the edge of the grass before I hear Marlowe let out another scream, this one clearly of pain. I stop in my tracks, sharply watching the grass for any signs of movement from the girl, but seeing nothing. I sigh in frustration, looking back to the Cornucopia. This little girl isn't a threat- it would be nice to up my kill count, but my ally is more important. I turn heel and head back to the golden horn.
I round the Cornucopia to see Marlowe laying on her back in the grass with blood seeping into her clothes as she staggers to her feet. She's alone. In the distance, a cannon goes off, echoing all around the arena.
"Yours?" I ask Marlowe with a raised eyebrow, snapping my whip.
She grits her teeth. "No." Her hand presses down against the wound in her shoulder. A broken arrow rests in the green grass beside her, stained with blood. We had purposely left the bow and arrow on the table to draw out tributes, and it seemed to have worked. To draw them out, at least. But it seems Marlowe let them get away with the weapon.
I huff as I take off my backpack and dig inside it for some salve and guze. This injury is worse than the shallow cut she sustained in the bloodbath. I hand her the bandages, which she takes with a wince and begins to wrap around her torso.
"Goddamn bald one stabbed me with an arrow," she hisses.
I try not to shake my head. "How could you let her get away?"
"She's stronger than she looks!" Marlowe complains, getting to her feet.
I thought I would have a chance to kill some tributes watching the back of the Cornucopia, but it seems I was a fool to let Marlowe and Passion deal with the feast table on their own.
"Where's Passion?" I ask sharply, trying not to lose my temper.
"Took off after some kid." Marlowe rolls her eyes, as if she had done any better.
"Let's hope she killed him then," I say bitterly. I glance once more around the clearing, but it seems the feast is over. If Logan dares to show his face around here, I'll make sure to kill him myself. I grip my whip tighter, staking around the edge of the clearing for any signs of tributes.
The sun is starting to set over the trees as I make my rounds, listening for any sounds of tributes in the distance. Eyes scanning over the forest, I pull out my feast item that I took before we assumed our positions, and look it over. It had lured me in with a captivating plaque set in front of it that depicted a strange half-bird, half-cat creature. Unlike Marlowe, who had grabbed a smooth, heavy stone behind the picture of a dragon, or Passion, who took the length of rope behind the wild-haired screaming woman, I decided on something that can't be used as a weapon. The small slip of paper is inscribed with a short sentence written in cursive.
The victor.
I'm not superstitious, but even I wouldn't leave such an item for anyone else to take.
Blossom Urakaka (15)- D9F
Today is feast day, yet I'm shocked when I hear the first cannon of the day resound throughout the arena. Did I expect more tributes to die? None? I can't quite say. At least there's one less opponent to deal with. Hopefully by the day is over, there will be even less.
The evening is cool, a gentle breeze lightly blowing through the fruit trees as I perch on the arms of one of the giant statues. I had managed to climb up the marble folds of its clothing to get a better vantage point over the trees, just in case. Only one of my traps have gone off so far, trapping a lone rabbit. Its skin is drying over a fallen chunk of marble, its meat roasting over my campfire. I look up every now and then, scanning the horizon for any approaching animals or tributes as I strike two pieces of marble together. They're coming across nicely. Once I'm finished, I'll have sharpened marble weapons instead of just my wooden spears. I'll be able to take on anyone who dares threaten my little paradise here.
I stop for a second to take a swig of water, then return to my work. The rhythmic nature of it reminds me of chores back in Nine. Us girls would spend entire days sharpening scythes for work in the fields and creating stone spears to protect ourselves from the Peacekeepers. It was technically illegal, and the Peacekeepers generally left us alone, but there were ones on occasion who liked to mess with us. Steal our supplies, extort food from us, threaten to tell the Capitol about our existence. The elders weren't only obsessed with keeping people in, but also keeping them out.
The tattoo on my back itches. Maybe if I win, I'll have it covered with something else. The Capitolites alter their bodies in all kinds of crazy ways; surely there's one that could cover up my past and create a new future for myself. I thought that the Hunger Games would be a relaxing end to my life, but as I look around my camp I can't help but wonder if it will be something more. Maybe a start to a whole new life.
Passion Mavros (17)- D1F
The sun is setting by the time I return to the Cornucopia. I still don't understand what happened, but I'm not about to complain. Did the arena glitch and let me survive? Do the Gamemakers really love me so much that they let that idiot from Eleven die instead of me? My mind is plagued with questions as the golden horn appears in my line of vision.
I hurry up to the clearing, making sure to keep an eye out for any other tributes who are scoping out our supplies. I can't see Leto or Marlowe, but I know they're both alive. There haven't been any cannons except for when my opponent died, his brains splattered on the rocks below that cliff, his limbs splayed out unnaturally. A few of the female figures with wild hair had emerged from the sea and slithered toward his body, their hands outstretched. I had taken a few moments to ogle at the sight before turning away to head back.
The feast table is empty by the time I reach it. I sidestep it to enter the mouth of the Cornucopia. Leto is sitting just inside, her fingers idly rubbing the tail of her whip. "Nice of you to finally join us," she says, voice clipped. "I thought maybe you were dead."
I puff out my chest indignantly. "You wish."
She sighs, standing slowly. I hear a groan coming from farther back in the Cornucopia, and I peek around a crate of supplies to see Marlowe sitting against it, pressing a rag to her chest. She glances up at me as I approach, then flashes me a grin.
"What happened to you?"
She winces as she rolls her shoulder. "Bald one from Three. Got me with an arrow."
I can't help but giggle. "Almost got killed by some ugly nobody?" I flip back my hair, pretending as if it's perfectly washed and styled instead of a dirty, matted mass. "Couldn't be me. I killed that boy from Eleven."
Marlowe narrows her eyes at me. "Well, good for you," she spits venom.
"One more down, seven to go," Leto says behind me. I turn to see her standing with her arms crossed, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Good job, Passion."
I smugly twirl my rope that I got from the feast. They don't need to know the strange circumstances surrounding his death…
I stop, frowning down at the rope in my hands. It seems so innocuous, just a simple rope. But then I remember the plaque that had been in front of it on the feast table: a woman with wild hair, just like the creatures at the bottom of the cliff. My fingers curl around the rope and I place it back into my backpack. Templesmith did say that each item was the weakness of a specific mutt in the arena.
Logan Wheeler (18)- D6M
The setting sun creates a beautiful smoky orange all across the sky. The blowing green grass of the rolling hills combined with the lightly drifting clouds in the sky would be tranquil if not for the circumstances. I take a moment to stop and take it all in. The distant sounds of insects chirping and the gentle blow of the wind. Without the heat of the sun, I start to feel a little chilly, so I throw on my puffy jacket and continue walking for another hour or so. The hills are starting to flatten out into a flat meadow, the grass just slightly too tall to really see far in the distance. I think I see something up ahead, perhaps another hill or a group of trees. As I settle down for the night, I make it my new goal to investigate that strange landmark up ahead. I might even make it there tomorrow.
It feels nice to have a goal again. I've spent the whole day replaying the deaths of my friends in my mind; the splatter of Pagani's brains and blood as she gurgled for me to run away. Volt's bloody and bruised face as the girl from Two punched him. Her district partner's anguished screams as he died. I shake my head to get rid of the thoughts, a shiver running down my spine. I let out a breath and take out the final bit of my jerky. My stomach rumbles, but I still don't have any desire to eat. The jerky tastes stale. I finish it and take a large swig of water. I'll need to find some more good tomorrow if I want to make it back home. My large water canteen is still mostly full and I've been rationing it despite how thirsty I feel.
I carefully place my water back inside my pack along with the empty jerky container, then curl up in my coat in the grass. I haven't seen anyone for days, so I'm likely still safe, but I keep my sword close anyway. I dig into my pocket and take out my token. The small coin is engraved with the logo of the Warriors, my gang back in Six. I slowly try to replace the faces of Pagani and Volt with those of my real friends, the ones who I will see once I return home. The easy smile and steady words of Dante, who is probably trying to comfort the Warriors right now and convince them that this isn't the end for us. Lance's sharp eyes and heavy-set jaw. Natalie's beautiful long brown hair and smooth skin. She's probably trying to stay strong for my family right now. The least I can do is act confident and staunch here in the arena.
I take a deep breath and put the coin back in my pocket. I watch the stars for a little while longer until the Panem national anthem plays. After the emblem of the Capitol, the only face that appears in the boy from Eleven. His freckles and dark hair and eyes are familiar from training. I remember him sticking with the little girl from his district. I think she's still alive, though the deaths of the tributes are starting to get mixed up at this point. I hope she's alright… and that I don't have to kill her eventually.
Flux DuBois (14)- D8F
I've only heard one cannonshot in the distance while I munched on my meal of dried fish, dreaming of the cool water inside the building. I try not to think about if it was Raven and Thimble. I need to focus on myself right now.
The lapping of the short waves against the shore mocks me with its cool and refreshing sound. It's pointless to drink, but not entirely useless. I've spent the past couple of hours testing out some of the skills I've used in training. Camouflage was one of my favorite stations back at the Training Center. I knew it would come in handy eventually; I just didn't think I would be using it on animals instead of other tributes.
It feels odd to be painting again, even if it's over my own skin with mud and leaves. I rub the mud all over my exposed arms, having taken off my jacket so it would stick better to my skin. From what I remember in training, big cats like tigers and lions can detect movement very well, but they're colorblind. If I can blend in with their surroundings and move stealthily, I might just be able to obtain some water. My water resistant jacket will make a nice container; I've tied it up into a giant leak-proof bag. The only problem will be that it's bulky to carry around; but that hardly matters when the alternative is dying.
Once my body is completely covered I roll around in the underbrush of the forest, allowing leaves and twigs and grass to stick to my skin. I stare at my reflection in the water. The parts of me that are visible are my eyes and mouth. My curly hair is matted with mud, my hands sticky. I need to do this now, and get back to Raven.
The trek back inland seems longer when I'm covered in my camouflage. The outline of the building is illuminated by the setting sun, and outside the entrance I spot two tigers ripping open the carcass of a bloody animal. I grip my hatchet tight, its handle also covered in mud and leaves. I quietly sneak past the pair of tigers, who are absorbed in their meal. They don't even glance up. It seems my camouflage is working.
I creep up the stairs and over to the pool of water, its surface flickering just slightly with sunlight. The inside of the building is extremely dark, but I can hear their deep breathing of the cats all around me. I gulp and slowly lean down to the water, dipping my handmade receptacle into the water. Once it's heavy enough that I can barely lift it, I tie the top shut and hold it close to my body. I will need to be extra careful returning this to Raven and Thimble.
I turn away, trying to breathe as quietly as possible, when I hear a low growl. I hesitantly turn, trembling and hardly daring to breathe, as another growl sends chills up my spine. It's followed by a loud roar, and another, and another. I turn and run as fast as I can through the water, past, past the statue of the woman, to the opposite end of the building where another entrance leads back outside. I hold my water bag to my chest tightly. My heart is beating faster than ever. I can hear the cats following on my heels.
I manage to find a low hanging tree branch and drop my water onto the ground, climbing as quickly as I can. I manage to get halfway up before I look down and realize that the cats are easily following me up the trunk, bloody teeth bared and eyes wild.
I scream again and jump from the tree, rolling on the ground. I feel a sharp pain in my ankle, but I keep running as fast as I can. I blindly run back into the building and over the water again, onto the platform with the statue. I grab its outstretched arm, which stands as high as my head. I hoist myself up onto it, over its shoulders, and wrap my arms around its head. The tigers have been joined by a pair of lions, who all try to claw their way up the marble… but slide back down. I watch with my heart pounding in my ears. The tall statue is too high up for them to climb. I glance down at my ankle, wincing at the pain. I take some deep breaths.
The cats eventually get bored and most of them walk away, returning to their earlier prey or to sleeping. Only a few continue to growl lowly at me from underneath the statue. I sit gingerly on the statue's shoulder and sigh, realizing what I've gotten myself into.
Obituaries:
11th) Thorn Guerra (16)- D11M- killed by Passion. I have to admit, Thorn was one of the most complicated characters that I've tried to write. His creator Oldflowers (previously Closet) put a lot of effort into creating an extremely complex and layered teenager boy whose demeanor and obsession with death bordered on sociopathic but who deep down just wanted to be loved. I hope I've done him justice and that his end was satisfactory. Ultimately, I think he went thourghthe journey that he was destined to. He had a real friendship with Luna and became a surrogate older brother for her, and sacrificed his life to save her. He learned to love and be real and open. I'm very sad to see him go.
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.
I hope you all enjoyed this very late chapter. More to come next week!