Chapter 7: Set Fire to the Rain
Peeta's POV
A large whistling sound pierces the air, waking me up the next morning. The lovely dream I was having, in which Katniss's face floated about me in a haze of smoke as she made love to me, suddenly dissipates…
…. Except when my eyes open, I can still see smoke.
Jerking about, I note how Prim is still by my side, curled up in the sleeping bag. Glancing to my left, I suddenly yelp, barely holding back the sound from turning into a full-blown scream, as I watch flames licking up the side of a tree about fifteen yards away from the one we're now perched in.
Turning to my district partner, I frantically shake her awake. "Prim, get up! GET UP! We have to leave now!"
Prim thrashes about as she awakens, her sparkling blue eyes going huge when she sees the tree nearby in flames. Another whistling sound comes from overhead, and she and I pack up camp lickety-split.
"Move! Move! Move!" I tell her. I suddenly feel heat bearing down on us. "You're gonna have to jump!"
We jump, crashing into the leaves below. I feel a strange twinge, too late realizing that leaping from at least twenty feet up was probably not wise. I push whatever pain it is down, just hoping it is not fatal, as Prim and I break into a run.
We don't know where we're going, nor do we have time to very much care, as something from above continues to set the entire forest ablaze. Holding Prim's hand and tugging her along, I glance up to see an entire fireball tear through the canopy and set a leafy slope just strides away from us on total fire.
I yank Prim hard in another direction. "This way!"
We end up spending the next several hours like this, running in a zig-zag pattern as I push and pull Prim out of the way of oncoming fireballs. Not once do I let go of her hand. There's no way this isn't a Gamemaker trap. I've seen them when watching the Games plenty of times before. What baffles me is why they're sicking these fireballs on us now, when just yesterday the Capitol got to see plenty of blood. Lulls in the Games are quite common – why haven't we at least gotten a break from running for our lives?
Unless, of course, the purpose of this trap is less about trying to kill Prim and me, and more about driving us near the other tributes….
A fireball is suddenly hurtling directly at my face. "Get DOWN!" I spin and tackle Prim to the earth, the heat broiling my back as the fireball misses us by inches. Then I suddenly hear a yelp of pain.
Pushing up to my feet, I see Prim whimpering and holding her arm, which is now licking with flames.
"Coat off! Quick!" I shrug off her windbreaker, toss it to the ground and stamp the flames out underfoot. Prim is still moaning a little, and I beckon her to me.
"Come here…. just let me see it…." The skin of her underarm is pink and mottled, and I let out a hiss. There are certain degrees to burns – we learned about it in school. Now, I'm starting to wish I had paid better attention in Mining Safety class. The flames might be gone, but that burn has to be treated.
The flaming balls have mercifully stopped for now, but I still glance about frantically.
That's when I see it: a gushing stream, about thirty paces off from us.
"Prim! I see water! There!" Helping to her feet, we go at a light jog to the stream and wade right in with our clothes still on. Prim cries out when her burned arm touches the water, and I could swear I hear a sizzle. Soon, however, her face relaxes.
I too deflate in relief, if only by a little bit. The water will help, but she still needs more effective treatment than that. An ointment or something…
As I take the opportunity to fill our canteen with water, I am just starting to consider circling back to the Cornucopia to see about rifling through remaining supplies when a tinkling sound comes from above. Lifting our heads, Prim and I watch as a parachute floats gingerly down to us, coming to float right on the slow-moving water. A gift from a sponsor!
Climbing out of the stream, I rummage through the pot tied to the bottom of the parachute, and come up with a disc of what appears to be lotion. Eyes lighting up, Prim holds out her burned arm, and I lather goop all over the pink and mottled skin. Before our very eyes, the coloring starts to fade, until the burn marks might as well have not even been there.
Suddenly, my blood runs cold as I hear shouts and war-whoops. Glancing back, my heart turns to ice when I see Cato and his merry band of marauders loping through the trees towards us, on the other side of the stream.
"We got us some Twelves, boys!" Cato hollers.
"Run!" Prim and I dash through the forest, trying to put as much distance between ourselves and the Pack as possible. We can still hear them behind us until we reach a particularly wide trunk.
I still don't know how to climb, but I suppose there's no better time to learn. We don't have the time to use our trick with the spear again.
But it turns out Prim has another idea.
"Hug the tree!" she tells me. We both loop ourselves around it, so that we make a circle, clasping hands.
Prim grins. "Now!"
Using our feet and leg muscles, Prim and I shimmy up the trunk, using the weight of our partner to bolster ourselves. Higher and higher we go, until when we're about twenty-five feet up, we swing onto a branch and look down just as Cato and his Pack reach our hiding spots.
If he seems in any way fazed, Cato doesn't shot it in the least. "We've treed ourselves some coons! Let's bring 'em down!"
My heart nearly stops as we watch Cato attempt to climb the tree himself, his three allies jumping up and down and calling encouragement.
"Kill her, Cato! Just kill her, Cato!" Clove is screeching.
Cato reaches about ten feet, pausing for just a moment so he can look right at Prim, a wicked glint in his eyes, his smile feral and tight from exertion. "I'm coming for you, Shrimp!"
I shift a little in front of me, the sword I got from the Bloodbath at the ready, prepared to defend her if need be.
Cato hasn't ascended much farther when he suddenly slips and with a shout, plummets to the ground. He lands hard, enough to knock the wind out of him momentarily. He gets to his feet, swearing, as Prim's sister might say, "like a drunken Twelve miner on leave." I fail to stifle a laugh.
Glimmer huffs out a frustrated breath. "I'll gut her myself." And she's stringing a gunmetal grey bow.
"Aw, shit, look out!" And I press Prim up against the trunk as the arrow fires.
From the few times that I've watched Katniss hunt, I can tell that Glimmer is truly incompetent with the weapon. The shot goes horribly wide, and would have even if we hadn't moved.
Glimmer curses and throws down the bow. They can't shoot us down, and they can't climb up after us. At least, Cato can't; he's too heavy. I can now hear Clove begging Cato to let her try the climb, and I fear he might – as the smallest and the lightest, Clove might be able to do it, probably with a knife in her teeth.
It is actually Marvel who breaks up the argument. "Oh, let them stay up there. It's that or starve to death, and it's not like they're going anywhere. We can deal with them in the morning."
Though it's obvious Marvel overstepped his bounds – Cato is clearly the one who gives the orders – the hulking blonde boy considers this and finally agrees. The Careers proceed to set up camp right at the base of our trunk, with Glimmer taking first watch. The sun sets, the anthem plays, and there are no faces in the sky tonight.
Prim's POV
We're good and treed, Peeta and I, as we try and distract ourselves by using the first of our iodine to purify the water we collected in the stream. I haven't had anything to drink in close to 36 hours, and the water tastes cool and fresh.
I try not to think about how it is probably one of the last drinks I'll ever have. Peeta and I could attempt to climb down during the night, kill whoever's on watch if we have to, and then make a run for it. The chance of getting through all of that alive, however, is pretty small. Besides, I bet the Careers are trained to be light sleepers.
It certainly doesn't seem that way, though, because when I glance down, all four of the Careers – even Glimmer, who is supposed to be on guard duty – are asleep. Cato's even snoring, lightly.
By now, it's gotten so dark, I can barely see what's in front of my face, though I can make out Peeta's green eyes as I turn to look at my district partner.
Except wait a minute… Peeta's eyes are blue, not green…. so who's looking at me.
"Peeta…." I whisper, whimpering a little.
"What?" He stills when he follows my gaze.
Somewhere above us, the clouds part, so that the moonlight reveals a little dark-skinned girl. It's Rue, my peer from District 11. Holding a finger to her lips, she points at something further along our branch.
That's when I hear it: a light buzzing. A giant nest of tracker jackers is dangling only several feet away from us.
Peeta and I look at the nest, then further down to where we can see it is hanging right above the Career camp. I ponder the knife in my hands.
A plan takes shape within seconds. From the way he's looking at me, I can tell Peeta has formulated our escape too.
"It has to be you," he tells me. "I can't risk moving on the branch further out; I'm too heavy. If you crawl along, I'll hold your feet."
We quickly and quietly set to work. Using the coil of wire, Peeta lashes himself to our branch after lying flat on his stomach. Stretching himself out, he holds my feet as I crawl inch by inch along the branch, my knife in my teeth.
I reach just above the tracker jacker nest with some slack to spare. Placing my blade in one groove, I begin to saw.
It takes us close to all night.
By the time the sun is beginning to rise, the branch is nearly sawed through, and both the tracker jackers and the Careers are still fast asleep.
One more cut. I glance back at Peeta, who nods encouragement: Do it.
So I do. I make the last slice and watch as the section of branch containing the tracker jacker nest tumbles down, exploding right on top of the Careers.
Cato and his crew wake up to buzzing and stings, hollering and yelling in shock and pain. They immediately scatter and abandon camp, dashing away through the trees, screaming at each other, "To the lake! To the lake!"
The only one who doesn't move fast enough is Glimmer.
The tracker jackers are all over her, stinging her everywhere, and she collapses to the ground in shrieks of pain. Within minutes, her body is convulsing, and as the insects disperse, she lies painfully still.
BOOM.
"Time to go, kid," Peeta tells me. We break our own camp fast, climb halfway down the trunk, and leap the rest of the way. Standing over Glimmer's body as the cannon fires, I make a split second decision. Bending over her, I attempt to pry the bow from her grasp. I curse. Her fingers are already cold!
"Prim what are you doing?! We have to go!" Peeta hisses.
"I've almost got it…." Just as I get the bow loose, I hear crashing through the underbrush. Looking up, I nearly have a heart attack as I see that Cato has doubled back. With a roar of rage, he charges us.
"NO!" Leaping forward, Peeta pushes me back behind him, his sword swinging to meet Cato's with a clang. Back and forth, they dance, a pretty even match, and though Cato has been immensely trained, Peeta manages to hold his own.
At least until Cato's blade sinks into the side of his calf.
"NO!" I now yelp myself, and thinking fast, I fling the only thing I have: my knife, the one I got from Clove.
Somehow, the knife sinks into Cato's bicep and stays there, forcing him to drop his sword as he howls. I string the bow quickly, trying to remember what my sister taught me. Like Glimmer before me, the arrow goes wide, but not by as much; Cato has to twist his body a little to dodge, backing away. Peeta bravely advances, but before he can close in….
KABOOM! An explosion rocks the arena, shuddering the earth at our feet. This is quickly followed by another cannon. BOOM.
Cato freezes, face going white as a sheet. Snarling, he abandons the fight, turns and runs.
Only then does Peeta sway dangerously; diving forward, I catch him.
"No, no, no, no, no – Peeta? Stay with me!" I can do little else but drag him through the woods. If another tribute finds us, we'll be sitting ducks.
Something sharp suddenly pricks my skin, stings, and I yelp, attempting to drag Peeta faster.
I feel dizzy. Everything is spinning. There is Rory's face in front of me, and he suddenly kisses me on the mouth. There is my sister, dashing towards us in her blue Reaping dress, eyes all a-fright. There is Caesar Flickerman, strolling blithely through the trees in a suit and top hat, spinning a cane.
The visions of people are turning to shadows now, and a fourth figure is running to me.
"Prim! Stay awake, Prim! We have to get him out of here!"
I manage to regain focus, just enough. Here is Rue, reaching around to get under Peeta's other shoulder.
"Come on, Prim – stay with me!"
And together, we two twelve-year-old girls manage to haul Peeta away, vanishing into the trees.