A Song for Snakes and Rats
Day 3 and Day 4 of the Games
Male Tribute from District Twelve, Viridian Ahane
Another canon sounds, announcing that only eleven of us are left to see the sunrise. I swallow down the water, waiting, wondering who it is that has died.
McAfee is dead. I found that out yesterday, huddling beneath a plant, barely avoiding the downpour. Still, despite al the rain, I was able to make out her face.
Who would have thought I would be here and her in the sky? Certainly not our mentor. I bet they'er all astounded back home, too. The betting is probably rising to its highest now that over half of the competitors are dead. Secretly, I wonder if anyone is betting on me. Most likely not, I tell myself.
I sit there, sipping from my canteen, wondering if I'll join them soon. Fransiska. The pair from District 3. McAfee. Heat bears down on my face, causing me to sweat, despite the absence of the sun. It never dies down here. The heat. It's as though the leaves and trees hold in all the warmth, only to release it when the stars come out.
To distract myself from the heat, I think about how I was told to make sponsors. Yet now, I am thankful that I went in alone. Only McAfee was considered an acquaintance. The rest of them were strangers. Which I don't mind. Not at all. Because grieving someone you know is different then grieving the boy from District Two and the girl from District Ten. You don't know them enough to cry or care. It sounds cold, but it's the truth.
I think about that for a long time, wondering if I'm cold or heartless. I'm still wondering it, unable to decide, when the sun rises, the birds singing and monkeys howling in the distance. I know I should get up, especially with the howling of the monkeys getting closer. But I don't. I just keep sitting there, periodically sipping and drifting off. I don't know where my mind wanders off to. Not to District 12. Not to a place that isn't filled with sweet memories of escapism.
But I'm not here, either. Only the buzzing of insects brings me back to reality. A mist of insects inch towards me. Without thinking, I am up and running, fleeing in any direction, not really thinking.
I only stop when I don't hear the buzzing anymore. Without warning, tears seem to come, sliding down my eyes. Why am I crying? I think as my heart slows, as the panic slowly itches out of me. As I've escaped something that wants to kill me.
In the distance, I suddenly hear the sound of running water and decide to head that way. Maybe I can refill my canteen. Maybe I can find some sort of refugee to wait out the rest of the Games.
The sky darkens as I make my way over to the sound of running water. I watch as the sky above transitions from pinks and oranges to a complete darkness. With the darkness, there comes a silence to the birds and monkeys and all other creatures. Of course, new sounds will start up shortly, the night creatures awakening.
I start back walking. Only stopping when the seal comes. The first face that appears is a shock. It's the girl from District One. The blonde. It might make me cold, but I exhale, thankful a Career is dead. Her face slowly morphs into the girl from District 4. Hope arises inside of me at the sight of another Career dead. Two of them gone, leaving only two left, and making my chances of win greater.
Yorik is next, the little leader of the anti Careers. If I was assuming, he had something to do with the two previous girls dying. Maybe more are injured. Dead, even. Maybe I'll see the pair from District 7, too.
But then there's the face of McAfee's ally, Jeriah. I want to be sad for him, I do, but I didn't know him. He was only McAfee's ally sadly. Last, is the girl from District 8, another of the anti-careers dead, which can only work in my favor.
The seal darkens and I do a little count of all who are left. The boy from District One, Chime. The girl from District 2. I have to assume those two are together. Then there's the pair from District 6. I can't remember much about them. The Anti-Career alliance now consists of District 7, the boy from Eight, and the girl from District 9, I think. Lastly, there's the pair from District 11.
Two Careers. Four anti-careers, and two district pairs. Everyone is aligned. Except for me. Great, I think. Just great.
Male Tribute from District Seven, Proteus Anche
I exhale when I don't see Rahni in the sky. I knew Zenna would be there, watching her die, leaving her to the fate of the vines. I've never felt more cowardly. But I didn't want to die, and sadly, she wasn't worth my life. I know that now. Know that I'm not willing to be the hero everyone thinks I am.
I chose me, I think. And I know I'd do it again.
I hover around the Cornucopia, waiting for Denim and Rahni to return. They must have succeeded in taking out some of the Careers. But at the cost of losing Yorik. At the cost of getting their own injuries, too. I try not to picture a bleeding Rahni hobbling back, barely holding in her guts.
Three of us left, I think. Out of a group of nine. Only three of us are still alive, the odds definitely not in our favor.
I move around the edge of the woods, watching, scanning, hoping to see Rahni and Denim walking out of them. But they don't come. Or I just don't see them. Either way, I stay, waiting, unable to give up just yet. They know to come back, don't they? They know I'll be waiting here, right? Or do they think that we were attacked, with Zenna now dead?
Out of the corner of my eyes, I see a flock of birds take to the sky, their wings glittering bright white. Excitement comes through me and I can't help it, I yell, "Rahni! Denim! Is that you?"
I'm running without really thinking about, moving over to the tall grass where I saw the birds fly out of. I stop a few yards, remembering the danger, remembering that I should be able to see someone who wants to be seen walking in the tall grass. Nervous, I take a step back. I grip at my axe, remembering it. Right now, it's all I have. The rest of my supplies back near the Cornucopia.
A person emerges out of the tall grass, slowly, quietly, eyes wide.
It is Tassia.
"Tassia," I say.
"Where's the others?" she says.
"Where have you been?" I ask. "We weren't sure where you went."
"I was chased," she said. "By the boy from District 12."
"You okay?" I ask, slightly hesitant, slightly nervous as she closes the difference.
"Yes," she says. "I hide under some roots."
"Wait?" I ask, remembering that someone warned us about the birds.
"Was that you?" I ask, stepping forward. "Did you warn us about the birds?"
"Of course," she says. She smirks. "I would've followed you. But I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"The birds," she says. "They nearly killed me." She pulls down the sleeves of her jacket or maybe it's a shirt. It's too dark to tell.
"Are you hurt?" I ask, confused.
"No," she says. She moves forward. "What happened to Zenna? Alys? Blair? Sesame?"
"They're dead," I say.
"I know," she says. "I saw the sky. I meant how. Was there an attack?"
"Alys, Blair, and Sesame died in the bloodbath," I say. "Zenna by the vines." I point at the vines that coil and wrap around the Cornucopia.
"Interesting," she says. "They attacked you."
"Yes," I say. I grip at my axe, still weary. Why didn't she stay and help us fight? If she was chased, why didn't she come back after she escaped? And why didn't she say anything else, letting us know that she was okay, that it was her? We could have helped her escape, too.
Maybe she's just a coward, I think. Couldn't blame her if she was. . .
"Do you know what provoked them?" Tassia asks.
"No," I say. But then I look around, noticing all the torches are out. "But I think it was the torches."
"So fire," Tassia says.
"Yes," I say.
"And the others?" she asks. "Rahni and Denim?"
"I don't know," I say.
"Have you tried looking?" she asks.
"No," I say, embarrassed.
"Maybe they'll come back," she says.
"Maybe," I say.
Female Tribute from District Nine, Tassia Morrone
Three allies instead of six, I think. It's what I wanted. It's what I predicted. Except Sesame was to be the blade that ripped the group apart. Dead, he gave someone else the opportunity to do it. The Careers. Still, the odds turned in my favor. I've only District 7 and Denim to deal with.
The sun rises as we sit there, crouched, waiting for Rahni and Denim to return. It's Day 4 with eleven of us left. I suppose the real games are about to start. Most of the pawns now dead.
I glance around the Cornucopia. The vines haven't moved, and I'm planning on going in as soon as the sun rises. Knowing there's a threat, I can assess it. I can predict an outcome. I can prevent becoming like Zenna. Dead.
"Was it lonely?" Proteus asks. Of all the ones to be stuck with, it had to be him. The one who seems lost, who needs direction constantly. But then I think about, instead of grumbling, and maybe I can turn Proteus on my side. Maybe I can position him as some sort of sword against Denim.
But then there's Rahni and I know her claws run deep in him. He won't leave her. Not unless she's dead.
I shift a little, appearing meek, acting uncomfortable with the question. "Yes," I lie. I take my time. Counting seconds in my head. "Don't mention this to anyone. But I cried." In all honesty I can't remember the last time I cried from loneliness. But he doesn't need to know that. No one does.
"That's fair," he says. "Especially with what happened to Sesame the first night." Oh, right. Sesame.
"I didn't expect him to die," I lie again. Of course, Sesame was going to get himself killed. He was erratic at best. "I mean, I didn't expect to see him that first night. And-" I let my sentence trail off. "It rattled me."
"I get that," he says. He shifts next to me. "I cried." There's a pause. "After watching Zenna die."
"I can't imagine," I say. "Watching someone else die, I mean." There's another pause between us. "I don't think I'm ready for that." He shifts closer and hopefully I've done enough. I've moved the pieces into place for me to get further on the board.
"I don't think anyone is," he says. "But it happens. People die. Here. Back home."
Trust me, I know. I lost a mother.
The sun rises higher, illuminating all the tall weeds around us. I tell myself that it's time to go in and get more supplies. But I have to do this the smart way.
"Is there food?" I point. Proteus looks over at the Cornucopia.
"Yes," he says. "But it isn't safe."
"I'm willing to take the risk," I say. My stomach growls as if knowing the part its supposed to play in all of this. "I haven't eaten in days."
"Well, we'll have to be careful," he says. We'll, I think. I wasn't expecting him to help.
"Okay," I say. And with those words, I am moving toward the Cornucopia, moving towards the supplies, moving towards my next move in these Games.
I move in. The vines stay put, unmoving, unshifting, coiled around the bronze horn.
"I'll cover you."
I nod. Going in, I shuffle through the crates. Every ten seconds, I look up, scanning. Even if Proteus is covering me, I can't be too careless. I can't end up like Zenna.
I fill pack quickly. Shoving down a med kit, dried meat, another flashlight, and several cans of what must be rice or grain. It's enough food to last me days.
I'm shifting over to the other crates, searching for anything else that could be useful and that's when I see it. Flint, matches, and some sort of blowtorch. I think back to what Proteus said about the fire and the vines. An idea comes. I could use the fire to get the vines to kill them. Rahni and Denim will want supplies. I'm certain of it. And so when they go in, I can light the fire. But I'll have to make sure they're trapped and I have a way to escape. This plan could easily get me killed, too.
"Cover me," says Proteus. I'm scooping scooping up the blowtorch and matches and shoving them into my pack. It's heavy as I swing it over my shoulder. Proteus passes me as I dart out and away from the Cornucopia.
Instead of watching Proteus, though, I watch the weeds. And that's when I catch the head of someone watching us.
I smirk, thinking about the little cockroach.
"Proteus!" I scream.
And that's when the boy from District 1 emerges from the grass and begins sprinting into the trees.
Female Tribute from District Eleven, Dasenia Bartlet
Lukas doesn't speak. He only revisits the pool again and again and again, washing himself constantly. Ever so often, he finds blood. In his hair. Under his fingernail. And again, he goes to the water. At first, I tried to convince him not to bath so much. That there could be something—some type of water living muttation—living in the water. But that did nothing.
Dripping wet, he sits next to me. I fumble with the blade that killed that girl from District 12. Lukas hasn't picked it up since then. Hasn't said much about it. No poems. No questions.
I wonder what's going on inside of his head. I wonder if killing her has broken his mind. He wouldn't be the first tribute to go mad because of the Games.
"You should eat," I finally say.
"Not hungry," he says.
I hand him over one of the pomegranates. "Eat."
He takes it, scooping out the purple seeds with his hand, before tossing them into his mouth. I watch him chew. Swallow. Repeat the process. We don't speak. Not like we did before the Games. I try to think about what my friends are doing back home. I wonder what Jett is doing, if he's still singing, if he's missing me next to him. But then that feels foolish—focusing on a crush, daydreaming about him, as if this isn't going to change us. As if there was an us to change, I think. Jet didn't know that I liked him. Not like I knew Charlie liked me. Frankie knew, I suppose. He knew it all. Every mutter. Every line I took out from our songs. Behind us, playing the bass, Frankie caught the glances.
Desperately, I attempt to push them all away. Frankie strumming the old bass. Charlie beating away at the drums. Jet singing next to me. We're smiling. I'm dancing. It seems like a different world. Like a dream and in here I'm finally awake.
Was I just singing with them two weeks ago? Yes, I was. Tears threaten to come at the thought of never making it back to them. Of never seeing friends who have turned family.
I have to keep it together, I tell myself. For the cameras and for Lukas.
Monkeys howl to the left of us, coming to life.
"It's about that time," I say. The monkeys howl often, but if I had to guess, they're part of some gamemaker trap.
Lukas looks up, squints his eyes a little. Then he's standing, shuffling backwards and back over to the water. "Someone's here. Look."
I'm up and moving. Blade pointed out, I'm turning around. It's a boy. He stops when he sees us. He's a stone's throw away. My heart pounds at the running distance. My mind starts to run scenarios. He runs. We fight. He dies. I run. We fight. I die. He runs. Lukas dies. I run. I die.
I step forward, attempting to have Lukas get behind me.
There's splashing behind me. Lukas is back in the water. I want to turn around, but I don't. I can't. I have to stay focused on the boy.
"I don't want any trouble," he yells. He even holds up his hands. Weaponless. I place him as the boy from District 12. Instantly, I wonder if he knows Lukas killed his district partner.
Probably not. They don't let us see the cameras. They don't give that type of information away.
"I just want some water," he says. He pulls out his canteen from his bag. "Please."
I don't do anything. I just stand there. Unsure if I'm supposed to charge like I did with his district partner. I even tried to kill the boy she was with. Only for him to die later.
The boy from District 12—Viridian, I remember—walks over and gets water.
"Don't kill him," Lukas says. "Please." I turn around and that's when I see it. The eyes come up from the water.
I scream. But Lukas doesn't turn fast enough. The mutt is on him, pulling him down. Scales and teeth and skin. Blood turns the water red. I scream again, throwing the knife at the monster. A canon sounds as the blade vanishes to bubble.
I scream again. Louder this time.
A/N: Still posting. Still writing. I'm determined to finish this.
Questions / Interactive:
What mutt should I add?
Also, we're doing the numbers thing again. Every tribute has a number. You guess your tribute's number. They get a sponsor gift.
Thoughts on the overall chapter?
Deaths are based on realism, plot development, and if I struggled to write the character.
11th. Male Tribute from District Eleven, Lukas Briar. RakTurtle, I really enjoy Lukas. How he was poet. How he was morbid. How he was extremely normal. Sadly, this is where I wanted his story to end. Thank you for submitting a poet to my story.