I had another vision of Annie.
I could hear her screaming, but I could not see her; I could only see the ocean, churning furiously within a storm.
When I woke from the vision, I felt sick. I could not fathom what was causing Annie so much torment, only that the screams were not merely screams. They were as if she was drowning, and I could just barely hear the muffled sound that poured out of her.
I had not seen her since the day I had died on that beach. I wondered if she could not come back. I wondered if Darius was with her, or if she knew where he might be.
While the visions haunted me in my waking hours, there was nothing I could do to reach out to Annie and ask for answers, or so I thought. The best I could do was hurry back to Panbank and tell Peeta about them and hope that he knew what they meant.
Gale, Madge, and I rode in a south-east direction after the night we spotted the smoke trails.
These Spartan horses were bigger than the ones I had ridden before and they were trained to withstand battle, so we made good headway. If it took only four or five days to walk to the beach. On horseback, it should take us only three or four. Those few hours we'd taken to ride west had cost us quite a substantial amount of time.
Around noon the trees and foliage started to fall back and within the hour, the path we rode opened up to a large field. Across it I could make out where the trees rose sharply again ten times as thick and I knew deep in my heart that it was Chaff's forest.
Once we reached Chaff's forest, we needed only to walk along it towards the east and we would find the north road.
We rode through the field slowly.
Our slowed pace allowed Gale to ride up next to me.
He smiled: a thin, trying smile.
I returned it, hopeful.
"I probably shouldn't be worrying about Rory, but I am," Gale admitted with a long sigh.
"We could go back for him," I offered. If it were Prim, I knew I would go back.
"No, Rory chose to stay." Gale shrugged. "He's... young. He thinks Prim will come around when he proves that he's strong... that he's with the stronger people. He thinks she's upset and rejected him because he wasn't strong enough to protect her in the first place – against the Trojans in Niuva."
"And your men? They sided with him?"
"Threw themselves in Undersee's favor. They thought I was a fool to stand up for you."
I ran my fingers down the shorn length of my horse's mane. "You... stood up for me?"
"Of course." He shot me a sideways glance as I stared determinedly down at my hands. "I always have... I should have in the tent... I… was just shocked. Not to say I'm not angry. I'm definitely angry at you, and I still don't understand why you've chosen what you have, but still... I should have stood up for you. At least in front of Undersee."
"But later... you turned on him?"
"Turned? No. I disagreed with him. He does not like being disagreed with."
"I've noticed."
A small silence fell, and I thought it was a comfortable one until he suddenly burst out, "Did you mean it?"
"Mean what? That I'd go back for Rory?"
"No. That if I come with you as a friend I will not be killed?"
My fingers curled into the horse's mane. I lifted my head to look at him. He was hopeful, and a little cautious, but there was less of his hate in him. "If I tell him you helped me, yes."
"Does he love you so much?"
I felt myself blush. "He knows how to respect someone who has helped him."
"By helping you, I helped him?"
"Yes," I said. He needs me.
"How?" Gale asked.
I shrugged, but Gale urged his horse closer to mine and he reached out a hand.
His fingertips rested lightly against my knuckles.
Behind me, at a little distance, I heard Madge gasp loudly.
Gale, who rarely paid any attention to her, did not react. I turned my head instantly.
Our eyes met. Hers were stretched unnaturally wide and her mouth was agape. I expected her to lower them to Gale's fingers still on my hand, as I had become aware of her favor for him almost immediately and though this show of open dismay at this one touch seemed petty of her, I still expected it.
There seemed to be something she wanted to say. I shook my head to convey that I did not understand, and then she slumped forward and slid gracelessly from her horse. She hit the ground with her shoulder and rolled onto her stomach, and protruding from her back was a single arrow.
"Madge!" I ripped my hand away from Gale's and grabbed at my horse's halter.
As I moved toward her another arrow flew through the air and struck Madge's horse.
It screamed, kicked out its legs and ran our way. My horse could not move out of the way fast enough, despite how hard I jerked on its halter.
In a horrible jostle of the two, my leg was momentarily crushed between one horse's flank and the other's.
Moments later, my horse was struck with an arrow that just barely missed my thigh.
In its panic, the horse threw me.
Gale shouted my name, vaulting off of his mount.
I scrambled to my knees, fearing I would be trampled.
Gale made his way towards me, but an arrow struck Gale's shoulder, and another found its mark in his chest. He stumbled to the ground.
I crawled to Madge. She was still breathing, but the breaths were short and shallow.
Behind us, just at the edge of the field, stood a group of men. They were neither Spartan nor Trojan.
They looked nothing like the blue clay daubed savages that had attacked our fleet at the beach of Achates birth. They wore animal skins for clothing, not wool or linen, and their long hair and unruly beards were matted and unwashed. Some had painted their pale faces with red and blue dyes, and they bore heavy-looking shields. Only two men had bows, and they were both notching another arrow as I watched.
I was not strong enough to carry Madge the rest of the way to Chaff's forest. I crouched there for only a second longer before I had to make a difficult decision. I could not die. Not like that. I could not leave Primrose nor Achates. I was Peeta's power source, and I could not let my death be the cause of his.
As I turned to run, I looked to Gale. He had snapped off the end of the arrow protruding from his shoulder. He was grimacing. The blood ran over his chest and down his arm. He would not carry Madge either.
He joined me in my retreat. We ran towards the trees of Chaff's forest, and I could hear the howls of the tribal men as they pursued us.
I had almost taken that last step into Chaff's forest before I felt the pierce of an arrow in the back of my thigh.
I believed for a moment that I would continue on sprinting, but then I took a step with my injured leg and it folded underneath me without my permission.
I leaned into the trunk of a tree. Gale was only a few paces beside me, but had fallen to his knees, giving me a bleary and desperate look before he collapsed completely and no longer seemed conscious.
I wondered if the arrows were poisoned.
I could neither sit nor stand with an arrow protruding from the back of my leg, but I crouched awkwardly and clutched my chest, and believe it or not, I prayed.
Hera, first, of course. She was dead and I knew she would not have helped me even if she was alive, but she had been my deity since I was a child and I had first seen her breathtaking image painted across a vase within the whorehouse. My mother had told me once she was the most beautiful being in all the world.
Oh, my queen of queens.
I could see the men crossing the field, content that their prey would no longer flee.
My blood pooled in my sandals.
The men spoke in a slippery, slobbery tongue. One was shouting excitedly, as they came upon Madge.
I prayed to Darius. I shouted his name in my mind, over and over, but I knew that this time he was not going to save me.
I prayed to Peeta. I screwed my eyes shut as the men drew near.
You promised.
Praying was useless. My mind was too small for the them to hear. My being too weak, too mortal.
The men were upon me. One of them wrapped a repulsive hand around my arm.
All were crowing at each other with delight.
Two of the tribal men started to drag Gale back toward where they had Madge. The one holding my arm pulled me to my feet, and it was agony for my injured leg to bear my weight.
Dizzy, I lunged towards Gale, and just barely grasped his ankle.
Another man bent down and put a knife to my throat. With his opposite hand, he pressed on the arrow in my leg. I screamed. They pulled Gale free of my grasp and lifted him by his arms, hanging between two of the savages.
A fifth man, holding a menacing axe, circled around to Gale's back. He smiled at me with blackened teeth.
He said something to me in his language and even if I knew the words, I do not think I would have been able to understand. The pain was coursing through me and my head was growing increasingly fuzzy.
The fifth man raised the axe high over Gale's neck. I cried out and flung my hand toward them, pressing myself into the knife despite the trickle of blood that trailed down my throat.
"Please!" I shouted.
The axe had been swung. The instant I realized that no matter what I said, Gale was going to die, right there, before my eyes, in such a cruel way, I snapped my eyes shut.
Fear, despair, and grief surged through me, and the emotions escaped my mouth with a single sobbing word: "Seeder!"
Something hit me.
Not the axe, but something much larger, like a body. Except this body was furred. A beast burst by me, knocking both myself and my captor to the ground.
I opened my eyes fast enough to see the beast launch itself at the axe-wielder.
He died screaming. The axe missed Gale's neck, but the blade still cut across his back, opening a vicious wound, before the pair of men holding Gale up dropped him to the ground.
No one moved, as the white stag tore open the axe-wielder's throat with its giant antlers.
The man that had held a knife to my throat started to back away. He uttered quiet, urgent words to the others, and just as quickly as the beast had appeared, the men turned and ran. They abandoned their weapons, Madge, and even their dead comrade.
The beast jerked its head toward their retreating backs but made no move to chase.
I crawled to Gale's unconscious body. He was bleeding profusely. I thought frantically about what I could do to plug the wound, and even attempted to stop some of the bleeding with my hands, but the wound was too great. He would die soon, if I did nothing.
The beast turned to me just as I was attempting to tear off a portion of my robe to use as bandaging.
I had never seen a beast like it. I had seen many majestic stags before, but never one so unnaturally large, so blindingly white, and with antlers dripping with the blood of men.
I tensed, readying to defend myself.
The beast did not lunge but paced towards me. I was tempted to flee, but I held off, hoping. He had large, glossy eyes, that never wavered from mine. I was startled when it stopped just before me. There was something peculiar about those eyes. I could see intelligence in them.
"Who sent you?" I whispered.
The beast simply paced around me, scanning the horizon.
I turned back to Gale, bundling the piece of my tattered robe against the wound.
As I worked on him, I could feel my own blood leak across my thigh. I was growing weaker, and I knew better than to take the arrow out, but what could be done? I secured his wound as best I could and, then, feeling faint, laid on my side, and tried to keep the surrounding forest from blurring.
I would have laid there forever, I think, bleeding out, if not for the beast, who looked quickly to our right.
Alerted, I sat up.
I heard a twig snap, and some leaves whisking, and though it could have been the savages returning, I called out for help.
Brutus emerged from the trees a few moments later.
"Katniss!" Brutus exclaimed, wide-eyed, and then he saw the stag, and he nearly fell to his knees, whether in awe or fear, I could not tell.
"It's alright," I said, my voice choked.
Brutus looked away from the stag, noting Gale, Madge, and the corpse of the tribal man.
I tried to stand but was forced to place a balancing hand on the beast's muscular flank, and I still scarcely managed to get to my feet.
"Brutus, this is urgent. Have you been to Panbank recently? Is Peeta there? If he is, go now, and lead him to here, please?"
"Peeta is not in Panbank. He was heading north, in search of you."
"Has he gone by here?"
"That, I do not know."
"Go now, find Finnick or Deimas then," I said. "Get horses or others to carry my friends, and a healer."
"What about you? I cannot leave you here. Your leg..."
"Is less injured than my friends," I said, holding his gaze sternly. "Just go."
With one last apprehensive glance at the beast, Brutus turned and left.
As she waited for Brutus to return, Katniss kneeled in the grass just inside of Chaff's forest and rested her forehead against the ground.
She knew that the beast was no coincidence. It had come to her because she was Chaff's replacement. It was only a beast, but it was a mystical beast with knowledge and strength, and a connection to the god that she had replaced. Perhaps the beast did not even know why it had come to her, but it had sensed her desperation and fear, and it had saved her regardless.
Katniss was grateful, but still in pain, and she was also angry and heart sore.
She was angry about how useless she was, and how helpless she felt. She had felt this way for weeks. Seeder had given her the means to become powerful, but she had not given her the knowledge she needed in order to harness said power. She had no idea how to utilize Chaff's gift and create a power source!
Angrily, Katniss beat two fists against the ground.
Even then, as she kneeled there, Gale was probably bleeding to death, and there was nothing she could do.
Nothing!
She bit her lip, barely noticing when it drew blood.
Her mind wandered, barely able to hold thoughts, until suddenly, she remembered her visions of Annie, and she looked up at the sky and called her name.
She waited, wondering if her voice was enough to bring the goddess to her.
Within moments, a figure shimmered before her and at first Katniss stared in horror, and then she rushed forward, nearly falling over, and embraced Annie with all her strength. She was afraid that if she did not grab ahold of her, Annie would simply disappear.
"Oh, Annie. You came!"
"Not for long," Annie said.
Annie did not return the embrace. She leaned away from and frowned at the blood that Katniss left all over her white robes.
Katniss stepped back. Annie looked different, somehow. Physically Annie was as perfect as she had always seemed, but the instability in her eyes was far more obvious than before.
Katniss stood there, wasting many minutes, just staring at her.
Annie eventually rubbed at a temple, sighed, and gestured toward Panbank. "Their godwell…"
"Is only just begun," Katniss rushed to say. "Is Thresh troubled by it?"
A look flitted across Annie's face. "No. He does not know yet how close they are to beginning it. I only just noticed it now that I am in this realm."
"What other realms are you in?"
Annie shuddered and redirected the conversation: "You... you called..."
"You have been calling me, haven't you?" Katniss remembered the few glimpses of Annie she had seen in her dreams last night, and the night before, and back in the Spartan camp, where they had begun. "The dreams… the screaming –"
"Dreams?" Annie asked, mystified.
"The dreams or well, the visions you send to me each night. Of the thrashing sea, of bloodstains, of screaming. I've seen schools of fish scattering. Gills and the flesh of the dead tangled in hair and seaweed. Mermaids –"
"Mermaids?" Annie said, a whimsical twist to her mouth. Then it thinned. "You mean nymphs."
"So, you have been doing it! You have been sending me these images... scattered, pieced together. I see your eyes in it sometimes..."
Katniss trailed off as Annie made absolutely no show of being guilty.
"It was not I, Katniss."
"Then who? Thresh?"
"He is a careless king," said Annie.
"Does that mean he wouldn't?"
Annie ignored her and said, "Katniss, you look more luminous than usual."
Katniss blinked back at her, and then Annie reached out with a hand.
"Come here," Annie encouraged.
Remembering that she had embraced Annie before and nothing bad had happened, Katniss came nearer, allowing the hand to rest on her cheek.
Annie's eyes clouded. Her fingers skated along Katniss' jaw.
"Ah," she said.
"What?"
"You burn," Annie replied, her hand now trailing down the side of Katniss' neck.
The fingers were light and cold. They felt as though drops of water sliding along her skin. Katniss violently shivered.
"I burn?" Katniss said. She recalled Twill's words: girl on fire.
Annie leaned closer, her concentration becoming wistfulness. "How fairs Finnick?"
Relieved by the change of subject, Katniss replied, "Not well."
"No?" Annie's eyes drifted toward the horizon where Panbank sat. "Is he sick?"
"He is healthy, but he mourns you, still. He mourns Joanna as well. The two are heavy on his heart."
"Oh."
"Will you not return to him?" Katniss inquired. "Ever?"
"I fear..." Annie sighed, and a familiar tremble ran through her. She hugged herself. "I do not know."
"He will welcome you ever so much, you know. He will soon forget the slight of your lie."
"I am needed..." Annie said, almost as if a goodbye, and Katniss snatched her by the arm.
"Wait," Katniss begged. "You must tell me how to make a power source."
"It is not hard," Annie said. "Is that why you have called me?"
"Yes," Katniss said. "I need to know."
"Alright," Annie said, "but quickly. I must not be missed or there will be terrible consequences. I should not even have come at your call, but I feared for Finnick. Lean in close, I will tell you."