Inevitable
Bloodbath
The 113th Annual Hunger Games Arena
The tribute platforms were raised up, twenty-four faces entering the arena of the 113th Hunger Games. Twenty-four lines of thought ran through each of them. Who was thinking of home? Who was looking around to get a gauge of what they could see? Who was contemplating who to attack first? Who was deciding whether to go into the arena or to run? Who was wondering if this all was even worth it?
Tate had her hands stuck tightly at her sides, determined not to make a mistake. Her eyes were lifted to the horizon while the clock counted down. Sixty…fifty-nine…fifty-eight... Directly in front of them laid the cornucopia, packed full of its goodies, with most of the weapons lying neatly inside the steel walls or just inside its mouth. The twenty-four pedestals were ringed around a beach, meaning each tribute would have to run directly through the sand to get to the cornucopia. Clear blue water spanned on one side of said beach, but Tate knew well enough that drinking it would be useless. The Capitol wouldn't make it that easy.
Forty-five…forty-four…forty-three… On the other side of the cornucopia laid the arena proper. Tate could see thick trees - a jungle, not just a forest. Rough dirt pathways ran into the thicket. Every tribute could hear the songs of insects from the cornucopia. Far in the distance a tall mountain, no, a volcano, rose.
Thirty…twenty-nine…twenty-eight… To be honest, the place was beautiful. The volcano's sides were ringed with flowers, giving the impression that it could be dormant. Tate knew from past Games that where it began and where it ended could be very different things. Down one side of the beach, there was a wooden set of structures, nearly like a pier at home.
Fifteen…fourteen…thirteen… She could almost imagine what it was like back at home. Callum and her father, sitting in the living room, watching their screen as the clock ticked down. All those years together, now they would be on opposite ends of what her father had intended. In a way, had her father gotten what he wanted? Callum got to live, she was going to fight to survive. She gritted her teeth at the thought, nearly missing when the horns went off to signal the start of the Games.
Shit! Tate knew she had lost precious seconds because of her deliberation, sprinting forward. The sand kicked up behind everyone's shoes, but no more than hers. Her idea to get right to the center and use her speed to make it was gone. There was a backpack far closer to her, maybe there was a knife hidden inside or something similar. As she's reaching to grab the pack, someone slammed into her and sends her flying into the sand.
The grainy pebbles lashed into her skin immediately. Tate didn't have time to look, but she knew her skin must've been burned from the fall. There was a girl advancing towards her, a little smaller than Tate herself. The only difference was that this girl had a knife, and Tate hadn't gotten a hold of the bag.
Defense, Tate, defense, she told herself. She was set upon before she had expected, forcing her to stumble back in the sand. The knife blurred in front of her, wild stabs attempting to find a part of her to drive home in. Luckily, the girl didn't seem to be entirely comfortable with the weapon. Tate had time to roll to the side when the next flurry of attacks happened, giving her time to kick the back of the other girl's leg.
This time, Tate felt like she had a bit of an upper hand. She grabbed the girl's wrists and tried to pry the knife from her grip. The two groaned and fought each other for control of the knife, but Tate finally was able to wrench it from her grip. She didn't have any time to think before she plunged it into her chest. The last thing Tate allowed herself to see was the little '5' marking on her shoulder.
Survived one. Tate held tightly onto the knife and surveyed her surroundings. There were a few fights here and there, but no one stood in the way of her getting directly to the cornucopia. She took off again, running for the center. A few of the swords had been taken, but an array of glittering axes hung on the wall of the cornucopia. Perfect.
Tate grabbed one that was a nice medium size and looked sharper than any she'd worked with either in training at the Capitol or in Four. With a sleek black handle that was relatively easy to handle, she was more than satisfied with her choice of weapon. The sounds of fighting drove her back to reality, making her turn to gauge what was happening around the cornucopia. Really, the only ones left were fights between Careers and their prey. Drago was in a tangle with a blonde-haired girl, Fianna was slashing ever closer to the boy from District 8, and Gemma was pursuing the girl from 11 closer to the jungle's edge.
The only difference was Valerius. His feet were nearly in the water, and the boy from District 7 had an axe that was much like her own. The axe was coming down hard every time, forcing the boy from 2 to deflect them to stay alive. It was clear to Tate that her ally was very much on the ropes. Tate knew she was the difference between his survival and his death. Which suited her more?
It took her a handful of moments before she ran through the sand, her new axe raised. The fear present in Valerius' eyes were clear, looking up at his attacker. Tate was closing the distance quickly, gripping the hilt of her axe tightly. Every step was a frustration, with the sand forcing her to go slower than she had hoped. Just as she reached the pair, bringing the axe down with a sickening crack into the tall boy's back, his own axe had sunk into Valerius' chest.
The light went out of both of their eyes nearly upon impact. Tate pulled both her hands back and put them above her head, watching in horror as the pair hit the water behind them with a splash. Dark red blood mingled with the bright blue water, curling in tendrils or pooling together depending on the area. She took a shuddery breath as she grabbed her axe and wrenched it out of the boy from 7's back. Eyes cast up into the air, watching the azure sky and its puffy, white clouds pass above rather than the carnage beneath her.
A quick glance behind her confirmed that the fighting had ended. The Capitol's spectacle was over. Or at least Act 1 was. Tate trudged toward the shore, burying her axe into the soft, wet sand. Some of the blood washed away, but Tate knew she didn't want to touch it herself yet.
"Tate?" Drago's voice brought her back into reality. "We're grouping together over here."
"Alright," She nodded and pulled the axe back into her hands, shivering as the warm air hit her now-waterlogged legs and feet. Perhaps the water would be nice to have.
The group had formed a semi-circle around a small pile of weapons, food, and other supplies. Tate reached and grabbed an apple to munch on. A few bites helped alleviate that queasy feeling she didn't know she had in her stomach until she had been standing in place along with the other Careers.
A series of cannons began to fire to mark the dead from the original fighting. One. Two. Loud blasts marked them, one after the other. The Careers fell silent as they listened for the end. Eight in total. Sixteen tributes left, including five in their own alliance.
"Eight," Fianna rubbed her face. She had gotten a cut across her cheek from a scrape in the Bloodbath, but she didn't seem to be bothered by the blood that kept leaking down her face. Gemma seemed tired, eyes cast straight to the ground, almost inspecting every piece of sand.
"We need to get that number to climb," Tate said, cutting in before Drago could speak. "I'll go out and look for more tributes. As long as someone stays back here to keep track of the camp, in theory, the rest of us can go and hunt."
The others agree before long, and it's decided that Fianna would stay behind since she is capable of fighting people off on her own, and it could allow her to put pressure on her wound. The trek through the dense jungle allows Tate to have more time to think than she wanted. Each soft, long leaf that brushed against her cheek reminded her of a ghost touching her hair, her shoulders. Valerius.
Had she chosen to kill Valerius and killed him just as much as the boy from 7 had? And…if she had…was that wrong? Only one of them ended on the other side of the arena, and if it wasn't now, it would be later. He had looked at her with hope. That hope may have been his doom. It had distracted him enough that he left his guard down for a fraction of a second. A choice is all it takes. Inaction was a choice just as much as action was.
The dirt pathways that raced over rocks, tree limbs, and fallen leaves were uneven and relatively clear. That told Tate that no tribute was going to be on the paths, they would be hiding in the trees somewhere. Or near the volcano or on the pier. Somewhere out there, eight families were mourning their children, their siblings, their friends that would never come home. Sixteen were eagerly watching, hope rising despite it all in their chests, a fluttery feeling that their loved one would make it out.
Two thoughts dueled in her mind as they heard some rustling of leaves ahead. That hardly registered in her mind as they began to run together. Was Callum planning on sleeping at all that night? Would he be sitting in front of a screen, looking for any glimpse of her that he could? Then, on the other hand, a more bitter thought. Somewhere in District 2, was Valerius' mother weeping, sitting beside the bedside of a child that would never come home? Were there pictures that she hadn't looked at in years, that she hadn't realized would be her last memories of the child she had raised? What would she think of Tate? Was she an avenger, the girl that had killed the boy that killed her son? Or was Tate an enemy who had waited too long to save her child?
The sun had begun to go down behind the hills that rose in the distance, but it still allowed Tate a clear look at the boy they had unearthed beneath some leaves. There were no supplies readily seen, nor any weapons. Tate didn't let herself think much longer than to throw her axe into his gut. No more thinking about who she had to get rid of. They would only hold her back, hold everything back. She had to be perfect.
A cannon fired and she pulled her now-bloodied axe from the body. She refused to look at the body or the face of the boy she had just murdered. One step at a time. Tate turned and looked at the rest of her allies.
"Let's make our way back," Gemma advised, glancing around. "Fifteen now, it's almost nighttime. It's best to be grouped up at night or something may happen to Fianna."
Tate nearly scoffed and commented on her cowardice - as well as lies about her supposed care for Fianna - but she bit her lip to stop that. If she was being honest, being out at night made her a little worried as well. Some Games provided night vision glasses, but no one had been able to find a pair of those. A lone attacker at night sometimes could overpower a few people if they had the element of surprise. Plus, a bit of rest would allow them to have more energy for the next day.
"Alright," Drago nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.
Tate kept her axe firmly in her hand while they walked, her eyes looking left and right, and her ears open. She was much more alert this time than she was when they arrived. Whether it was the night sky blurring her memories, or the fatigue starting to get to her, Tate was grateful either way.
Fianna was sitting by the entrance of the cornucopia, a bit of cloth pressed to her face to staunch bleeding. She had done a bit of work herself, setting their supplies together. The group spread out as they all arrived, claiming different spots in the sand to sleep.
"I'll stay up first," Tate volunteered, knowing she wanted to watch the night sky that night to see who was still left and who wasn't. She had no doubts others would do the same, but it would work the best for her. Day 1 was over. Nine deaths, and none of them were her or Tengiz. Not a perfect day, but one she survived.
Night One - Day Two
The Arena
The night was listless. Bugs screeched from every direction, their calls becoming a unified chorus. In the thickness of the jungle, Tate had no doubt that there were a few tributes that would go without sleep. On the shore, like they were, they could at least count on quiet from the direction of the ocean. The lapping waves and the sound of them breaking upon the sandy shoreline was a constant reminder of home - perhaps the only thing that would lull Tate to sleep later that night.
She rested her back up against the metal cornucopia, brown eyes watching the edges of the jungle. Tate had confidence that no tribute would dare attack the Careers on their first night, but she couldn't let her guard down anyway. The dirt paths that had been bright and easy to see during the day led straight into the darkness of the jungles.
As the moon rose taller in the sky, the anthem began to blare in the arena. Any tribute who had been attempting to sleep that night was surely awake now. In the thickness of those trees, Tate wondered if they would even be able to see the faces of the dead. The Capitol symbol started the small tribute to the fallen, and the first face to appear on the screen was Valerius'. His stern face was looking off in the distance somewhere, with District 2 plastered beneath it. In the arena, there were likely tributes rejoicing to see such a face up there.
Just like that, his face was gone and replaced by the next. It was a young boy's face from District 3. The next was the girl from 5 who had attacked her at the beginning of the day. Looking at her now, she seemed different. More serene. Tate supposed that came with the fact she wasn't actively attempting to kill her.
The skip meant that Tyene had survived, the girl from 3 she had met. At least for now, it was possible that the two girls from 3 and 6 were together. The next few went by fast - the boy from 6 and both from 7 were gone. Adelaide made it too, then. More than possible they were together. The boy from 8, boy from 10 and girl from 11 ended the tribute, with the Capitol symbol showing the end of the night's memorial.
Nine gone. Three of them had been because of her - directly at least. The girl from 5, the boy from 7 and the boy from 8. Were sponsors offering Ella money to her because she had gotten the most kills so far? She had overheard earlier that Fianna and Gemma had each gotten one, while Drago had gotten two, like her, during the Bloodbath. The boy from 8 made it uneven between them.
She was the best so far. But the boy from 8 kept needling her in the back of her mind. He had been practically defenseless, with no weapon near him. How fair had that been? Was the Hunger Games fair? Tate knew it wasn't, but she wasn't sure that made it right either.
Tate ended up being glad that she had taken the first shift. If she had tried to sleep right away, she wasn't sure if those faces would've ever left her dreams. When Fianna nudged her later to take over, Tate obliged and laid down to sleep. It took some time, but with her fingers curled into the sand beneath her, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
. . .
With a gentle push to her shoulder, Tate is woken up much earlier than she expected. Groggily, she rolls onto her back and looks up towards the sky, where the sun has already begun to come up. I'm not sure if I'll ever get enough sleep in here, Tate thought to herself. Tengiz's deliberative face was looking down at her, apparently having taken the last shift of the night. He smiled and sat up properly beside her.
"No more cannons last night," Tengiz informed her, his back resting where hers had been during her watch. "We're going to eat quickly and then a few will go out to hunt today."
She yawned and got to her feet, following Tengiz over to where a crackling fire was going in the sand. Apparently someone had been gifted eggs, because they were cooking on a stick that was holding each of them up. Tate wouldn't complain, especially since she had reason to doubt they would need many of their abundant sponsor points.
"Morning," Drago commented as the two from Four took their seats in the ring around the fire. Tate gave a brief nod in response.
"What's up today?" Fianna stretched her legs out in front of her. The shallow cut on her cheek had remained shallow, and the dark crust of blood had stopped further bleeding.
"Same thing as yesterday. Minus the Bloodbath at the beginning," Drago smiled wryly as he took an egg to eat himself. Each one was a bit charred, but as Tate took hers and tried a bite, she couldn't deny that it was good.
"Fifteen left now. And five of us are sitting right here," Fianna said, gesturing around at them.
"Still double the amount out there somewhere," Tengiz replied. "Who knows what they're doing or planning."
"Right," Drago shook his stick at Tengiz. "The second day is always an eventful one. Everyone has had a night to think, to plan. Luckily for us, we've done the same. We need two to stay back this time since the odds of an attack on our supplies is bigger than yesterday."
"Should be Tengiz and Gemma," Fianna munched on her own food, commenting while eating. "You and Tate got 10s, I got a 9. They both got 7s. It just makes sense."
Tate saw the logic in the argument, but part of it didn't sit right with her. Tengiz and Gemma got the lowest scores, but they weren't incapable of fighting. Fianna had stayed back the day before though, and there was no way that Tate was going to stay back. She felt like Drago was much the same. Maybe it was for the best.
"The Gamemakers were just unfair," Gemma complained, explaining that she had missed on her first try and then got the next three dead on. By the end, the way she said it, they weren't paying attention anymore. Tate didn't necessarily buy the story, but she didn't want to provoke an argument.
"It'll work fine," Tate stepped in to stop her bellyaching. "Fianna stayed yesterday so it's only fair she gets to go out today."
Gemma's mood noticeably brightened and she acquiesced then. Tate had figured her out, in one way or another. Her ego was fragile and if you presented it in a way that didn't imply she was weak or inferior, she would agree to it. It even could look like she preferred to stay back.
Drago, Fianna and Tate got to their feet after their meals and went to grab weapons. Tate stuffed the end of a protein bar into her waistband, hoping it would serve for lunch if they didn't make it back to camp beforehand. There was a knock on the steel of the cornucopia beside her, startling her while she put the food away.
"Good luck," Tengiz said with a smile. "The more that we get rid of, the safer it gets for us, right?"
"Right," Tate replied uneasily. The detente that had developed between the two of them made her feel less alone, but his words didn't ring true for her. She felt it was the opposite - the more outer tributes that died, the likelier it was that one of their allies turned on them. Would it be Fianna or Drago and Gemma was her only question.
"You can do it," Tengiz said encouragingly, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Just make it back."
The smile he had was genuine, pulling at the sides of his sweetheart smile and creating lines on his handsome face. In a normal year, Tengiz would've been a favorite. Tate was just unlucky enough to have picked an abnormal year when so many of her fellow competitors had some leg up on her. What did she have? Her 10, a sterling record that had solid foundation even when everything else crumbled.
"I will," Tate promised, turning around to meet Fianna and Drago where they were waiting at the jungle's edge.
The journey they made in the jungle was much longer than the one they had taken the day before. Drago, Fianna and Tate were as silent as they could be, moving in through the trees and trying not to disturb any animals that would make more noise. Whatever tributes were out there hiding were either far away from the cornucopia, or had picked good spots. That afternoon, they stopped briefly in a clearing where there was a small puddle of water, almost as clear as the ocean by the cornucopia. They each had time to sit down and eat what little they had brought and braved a mouthful of the water.
While they had mostly stuck to the pathways, they had ventured off a few times when they heard a rustle of leaves in the wind or the sound of an animal scurrying around. Tate thought she knew the general way back to the rest of their group, but she was nervous that they would make the trip back too late. But as long as Drago and Fianna pressed ahead, she would too. She couldn't afford to look as weak as she felt.
After their meal, the group set out again. Fianna was in front, Drago and Tate making a triangle behind her. Each had their weapons clasped tightly in their hands, ready for any potential threat. It must have been in the early afternoon when they first heard a peculiar noise.
It sounded like crackling. If she didn't know any better, Tate thought it was a waterfall that was far in the distance, like water breaking on rocks. She bit her lip and inched forward behind the group, coming upon a cave that dipped below the jungle's floor. The entrance was partially shielded by leaves - and not naturally, either. Someone had tried to obscure it from view. Whoever it was hadn't done a good job of making it look natural.
Fianna put her right hand out and slowly pushed the greenery to the side. The soft swishing sound that the leaves made forced Tate to wince, hoping that if someone was in there that they hadn't been alerted to their presence. Fianna took a step into the now-glowing cave first, Drago entering second, and Tate last.
"Aaagh!" Fianna yelled as someone came crashing down on her, hitting the ground beneath her hard. Drago ran towards the action, attempting to haul a boy off of her. This wasn't like the boy from 8 - this one had a knife.
Tate leapt into action behind them, keeping her axe close at hand, but worried about hitting her allies with it if she swung too big. Fianna screamed again, Tate seeing the knife go into her upper arm at just the wrong time. Blood came immediately and Tate knew she couldn't wait. Another second and he would have the knife back in hand, aiming for somewhere more vital to kill her off.
Drago had the hold of him, wrestling the boy away from Fianna. His arms were clasped around the boy's neck, holding him in a headlock. Drago wasn't Valerius though, and while his arms bulged with muscle, he couldn't hold the purpling boy forever. Each second only earned him another blow, the enemy kicking at Drago or shoving against him.
"I'm sorry," Tate whispered to Fianna, pain written plain on her face. "I have to."
"No, no, no," Fianna groaned in alarm, attempting to back up.
She curled her hand around the knife in her shoulder and pulled it back out. The scream that Fianna unleashed was enough to shatter ear drums, but Tate blindly turned around to finish off their prey. The fire had been dwindling, leaving shadows on peoples' faces and the soft glow wasn't enough to give them a clear sight of the place. As she was beginning to bring the knife down towards his chest, his leg kicked out and sent her falling into him. The knife hit true, but caught him in the shoulder instead of where she was aiming for.
He groaned and hit her with a closed fist, sending Tate reeling to the side. She rolled off the pair with a stinging jaw, but didn't see that it had allowed Drago to get a better weapon. He grabbed the knife and yanked it out of his shoulder, cutting his throat quickly. A cannon fired immediately, as even the Capitol knew it didn't take anything more than that.
"Fuck," Fianna cursed, blood pouring out of the wound to her shoulder. Even while Tate knew her jaw hurt, it wasn't anything compared to what she was going through.
"I've got you," Tate said slowly, opening and closing her mouth to test the muscles there. She used the bloodied knife to rip a portion of her outfit, tearing a strip midway down her arm to her wrist. That part wasn't as important as others, at least.
"Hold it there with your other hand," Drago instructed Fianna as he made his way over. "There may be more to deal with that back at the cornucopia."
Tate slid her arm around Fianna's waist and helped her up. She was blowing air out her mouth, trying to stay calm. The trio lumbered up to the top of the cave, light basking them once again. In the light, they looked worse than Tate had even thought. Fianna's face was pale and gaunt, but she hoped that the blood loss would stop and she would improve. Drago had taken more of a beating than Tate had seen, a bruise already forming on his cheek, and likely down his legs as well. There was even a shallow slash on his leg, where Tate wondered if someone had missed in the original fight and cut him.
All one person, Tate thought to herself. The boy was from 5, she had seen that as they left. He wasn't supposed to be that much of a competitor, but he had bloodied and bruised the three toughest Careers. Are we weaker than we thought? Tate felt more pessimistic, but the thought occurred to her that the boy was fighting for his life, and that unlocked something in you.
"That bitch," Fianna ranted to them as they walked, the girl eventually not needing Tate to help anymore. She still looked rough on her feet, but still able to walk. "He fought dirty. He almost bit me! I hope you're proud of that, District 5."
A smile crossed Tate's face. "Very respectful of the dead." She lightly teased the girl from 2.
"Well," Fianna scowled. "I suppose. Doesn't mean I have to like that he jabbed a knife in my arm, though."
The trio made better time the longer they went. But the time that they had lost while Fianna was improving was proving to be a problem. Some of the paths began to look familiar, but by the time they had reached the spot they were at during lunch, the sun was beginning to go down. When they got back to the cornucopia, it would be the dead of night.
"We have to get back," Fianna managed to say. "They'll come looking for us if we're gone too long. They won't make it."
Just as she was finishing her words, a knife whizzed through the air. By a stroke of luck, Tate had been taking a step back to see if Drago had gotten any ticks in his hair. If she hadn't, it would've hit her right in the throat. The knife bounced off a tree and skittered to the forest floor.
In a moment of clarity before panic, Tate grabbed a hold of Fianna's hand and ran with her. Leaves slapped their faces, sticks tore holes in their uniforms as they hurried through the forest. They quickly lost Drago, who must have taken a different road or got lost in fighting. All Tate knew was they were making a racket blundering through the jungle. However, there was no other option.
The two girls braved it the whole way, Tate struck that Fianna was still able to go as fast as she was. Adelaide. Tate had no doubt about that. The knife wouldn't have been as accurate if it wasn't her. The girl from 6 had found them in a vulnerable spot and nearly got her. Was there a reason she had been aiming for Tate and not Drago? Fianna skidded to a halt when the first cannon fired.
Was that Drago? Or Adelaide? Tate looked at Fianna and they both shared the wide-eyed look. Surprise compounded when a second cannon fired quickly after. That wasn't right. How could both of them have died so quickly?
"What do we do?" Fianna hissed at her. "Who was that?"
"I don't know," Tate whispered in response, the two hidden by thick layers of leaves and trees. "I don't think that was Drago and our knife thrower."
"I don't think so either," Fianna whispered back. "We should get back to camp. We're not far, I think."
"Let's go," Tate finally let go of her hand, which she had held in a death-like grip. The two hurried faster towards the light that was coming from the end of the jungle. As they staggered out of the jungle, Tate gasped.
Handsome, kind Tengiz's body was being lifted by a hovercraft. A scarlet smile had been cut on his chest, and his eyes showed no emotion. Tate fell to her knees, in shock as she surveyed the area around them. Another girl lay on the sand, waiting to be picked up. With dark eyes and dark hair, sweet Tyene was gone too. There was a sword sticking out of her back.
A few yards away, Gemma's clear eyes were still blinking and alert. She had cuts on her face and Tate had no doubts that whatever other wounds she had were worse. The girl was slumped against the cornucopia, the winner of whatever bloody battle had taken place there.
"They were working together," Tate gasped, clutching onto Fianna's arm again. "I - I knew that girl, she was from 3. She's - she's allied with a girl from 6 who can throw knives as well as you. They - they set this trap."
"Executed it well too," Fianna muttered. "Look at me. Tate, look at me." Her eyes were fierce as she gripped her chin tightly in her hand.
Tate lifted her gaze, miserable as she glanced back at the girl from 2. Tengiz was gone. They had never been close, but she felt bad for all those times mocking his abilities now. He had never been anything but kind, gentle. He didn't deserve what happened.
"I know how you feel," Fianna told her. "Valerius died on night 1. We were never friends, or even friendly. I didn't even really like him. But it affected me more than I thought it would. Your district partner is an ally, yes, but your last bit of home. It's normal." She patted her cheek lightly. "But you've gotta help me. Gemma isn't going to make it much longer if we don't."
Tate nodded, swiping away tears that she didn't know were falling. She stumbled towards the main camp, looking up just as the anthem was beginning. Fianna took the lead despite her wound, using extra cloth they had at the cornucopia to bind Gemma's deeper wounds. She had three of them - one on her right leg, another on her stomach, and a third on her arm. The shallow wounds were too numerous to count.
"It - it was a surprise," Gemma whispered to them as they got to work. "She came from behind us. She - she must have swam."
"Shh…" Tate whispered, urging her to fall silent. Tate couldn't bear to look at the sky, but Fianna confirmed it was the girl from 3, Tengiz, and the boy from 5. Bloodied and shocked, Tate wondered how it had all fallen apart so quickly. She wasn't perfect, she couldn't save Tengiz. How could she expect to win, then?
Day 3
The Arena
The moon rose high in the sky through the night, giving Tate a clearer picture of her surroundings. They had managed to stabilize Gemma, but who knew for how long. With the girl from 1 in bad shape, Drago missing, and Tengiz dead, it left Fianna and Tate to pick up the pieces of their now-fractured alliance.
"You take the last shift," Fianna insisted as she deftly wrapped a blanket around Gemma. The girl looked rough, with what looked like small nicks from a knife all over her face. Her green eyes were closed and her chest moved up and down to receive shuddering, shallow breaths.
"I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep," Tate admitted, catching herself before she could allow Fianna to get a false impression. "Too energized from today."
It was a lie, and she had a feeling that the girl knew it just as well. Tate had a soft hold on the edge of her uniform to keep her hands from having a slight shake to them. How had Tyene taken down Tengiz and done that much damage to Gemma? Was it possible that Adelaide had made it back that fast? Tate didn't think so, that they would've heard her. The more unsettling notion was that she doubted Adelaide would've left Gemma alive.
Tate isn't exactly sure when she fell asleep in that early morning, but all she remembers is watching the waves crash in the distance for what seemed like hours. When she finally did fall asleep, it felt like it was mere minutes before she awoke again. It wasn't Fianna kneeling at her side either, it was Drago.
"You made it back," Tate yawned and sat up.
"I did," The sun was beginning to rise in the far distance. "I took the first half of your watch to look after Gemma, Fianna was awake when I got here."
"Ah," Tate scrubbed her eyes and nodded. "Get some rest, then."
From a cursory look, Drago didn't look too bad beyond what had happened in the cave earlier. At first glance, it would seem that he had only gotten lost and hadn't been able to find his way back immediately. Is that a good or bad thing? Tate wasn't sure. But whatever time he had spent tending for his district partner had surely been lapped up by the audience. Even a hint of romance would go well with them. It wasn't like Fianna and Tate hadn't done the majority of it or anything, right? Tate scoffed a little as she went to sit at the front of the cornucopia for her shift.
Gemma was still sound asleep, but with each minute, it seemed like her breathing got shallower. Quiet, like this, she looked almost peaceful. Tate felt bad for her - no one should have to suffer like that. But she knew just as well that a suggestion to Drago that she be put out of her misery wouldn't go down well. Anyone with half a brain knew that in the timeline of the Games, she wouldn't recover. Only if that volcano blew up and somehow didn't hit her would she win.
The looming peak in the distance unsettled Tate. The gamemakers never put something like that in the arena without the intention of using it. She'd seen floods, hurricanes even during the Games in the past few years. About ten years back there had been a ghastly snowstorm that left some of the tributes to freeze. It wasn't particularly liked in the Capitol, but the addition of some of the snow mutts had helped them salvage a bad year.
An early morning shift didn't mean much for Tate. The fireworks of the previous night had all but dulled out. Even if Drago wouldn't accept it, they were basically down to three tributes in their alliance. She felt more secure knowing that it wasn't two from one district and her, but both Fianna and Drago didn't seem the most trustworthy.
She allowed Drago to get a few hours in before she went to wake the both of them. Fianna was up and alert in no time, but Drago was more lethargic. She couldn't blame him after being out for how long - she didn't know if he arrived right when Fianna's shift was ending or what.
"So…" Fianna said awkwardly as she crossed her arms over her chest, taking a look at the both of them. "What are we doing today?"
There was silence before Tate shrugged. "The number of tributes has fallen fast each day. I don't know if there's a right plan."
"We should stay," Drago said firmly in between yawns. "Gemma isn't prepared to go anywhere, and unless you two want to go by yourself, which I don't suggest, it's the best move."
"We can't just sit here," Fianna scoffed, blowing air out of her mouth to push her red hair back. "We would be sitting ducks. Do you think that girl who died did all this herself? I know I can be thick sometimes, but jeez."
Drago's eyes flashed. "All the better to stay here and protect the area."
"And when the knives start flying?"
"We'll be more prepared than her."
Fianna laughed and shook her head, incredulous as she picked up her own weapons. "I'm going. I don't care if you want to sit here and mope while she dies, but she's going to."
Drago snarled and Tate saw him grab a hold of his bow.
"Stop!" Tate demanded and stepped forward, glaring at the two of them. "Each of you made your choice. Drago, you can stay here and watch after Gemma to make sure that she's stable. Fianna and I will go and keep looking for more tributes. She's right, staying in one place right now is dangerous. But it's your choice to make, not ours."
The tension was let out, but Tate knew that it wouldn't be the end. Fianna's wounds had recovered, but she was still irritable. Drago was taking care of a horribly injured district partner who likely wouldn't make the day. And Tate?
Well, as the two of them set out under the mid-morning sun, she had more time to think about herself. Out of the Careers that were left, she felt as though she had the best circumstances. There were tributes out there, though, that she hadn't seen. Was Adelaide well-fed and uninjured? What about Rigby, the boy from District 9 who got an 8? He could probably make do with a lack of food if he had to.
The two turned south, aiming towards the volcano in the distance. They had gone the other way the day before, so it was possible there were more tributes that were angling for that area instead. Their own food was beginning to run low, so when the two girls stopped for 'lunch' all they had access to was some semi-cooked fish that Tengiz had found before his death.
Tate had so many reminders of home in the arena. The sand. The fish. Now, the trees, volcano, and ever-pressing threat of death were entirely new, but many districts likely had no such reminders. At least, each night, touching those grains of sand, she could feel like she was back on the beach with Brooklyn, Callum, and her other friends. For a few moments, a sense of peace.
As Tate bit into the slimy meal, a cannon fired. Both girls paused and looked around them, gauging to see if it was near them. It wasn't. The thought came to Tate's mind before Fianna said it.
"You think it was Gemma?" She asked.
Tate ran a hand through her messy hair. "Could've been. Could've been other tributes fighting too. Or someone else succumbing from something."
"You said you had a brother?" Fianna asked her, avoiding her own food for the most part.
"Yeah." Tate bit her lip. "He trained too, but didn't end up going in. Probably for the best."
"I'm starting to think he was onto something," Fianna joked. "It's just really me and my mom now. Dad's not in the picture anymore. I thought entering the Hunger Games would give her and I a better chance. And, like you, to prove myself."
Tate almost felt like she had been backhanded. Did she know that just from looking at her? She must've seemed dumbfounded, because Fianna laughed and shook her head.
"A person only gets a 10 when they're someone like you for one reason - that's because you worked so damn hard to get it. Drago and Valerius, it's easy. But for us, it's not. You've tried so hard to be at the center of everything here. I've noticed. And you know what? I'm behind you, otherwise I'm answering to that prick from One."
Tate couldn't help but chuckle as she stood up. "I'm honored for the vote of confidence. But, really, when we're down to three of us, there isn't a leader. I feel like we've been reacting more than we have been seeking things out."
"You're right on that one," Fianna began to walk alongside her. "Let's change it today, then?"
With her axe placed firmly in her right hand, Tate continued along with Fianna. The path seemed to broaden as they got closer to the volcano, and the trees were starting to thin out. They could now see farther in front of them, while still having that canopy of shade above their heads.
The sound was faint at first, but grew louder as they broke out into a run. Steel stinging against steel, that bitter brrrrrring sound ricocheting through the air. Shouting was heard, male voices. A scream - female.
"At least three," Tate gripped her axe tighter as the two ran through the forest. They broke into a clearing, nearly at the base of the volcano.
The ground was mostly rocky and dirt, a brown color, while the trees thinned out on the periphery. Three people were at the base of the volcano, the three voices that they had heard. The boy from 11 held a spear in his hands and was jabbing at the duo from District 9. Rigby deflected it with a swing of his sword, while the girl at his side looked nervous, holding onto a sword that she could obviously barely lift.
The boy from 11 had to be near Rigby's age, but a bit younger. His arms weren't as muscular, nor his body as filled out. Tate could almost feel the exertion getting to him, holding that spear up and trying to fend off the older boy. The girl from 9 was lucky to have a district partner like that willing to protect her. But it wasn't so lucky that they had run into Fianna and Tate.
The fight was disrupted, Fianna's spear acting as a rock hurtling through shattering glass. While it bounced off the volcano's edge and into the dirt again, the boy from 11 had to hit the ground to avoid it, and Rigby had to tug his district partner out of the way. Tate knew that Fianna only had a knife or two now, which would be much harder to use in a fight against swords and spears.
Tate ran in with her axe, swinging at Rigby while he was still caught off-guard. His sword caught it just in time, avoiding what would have been a severed arm. Wrenching her axe away, Tate blocked an attempted strike from the boy from 11. It was her turn to hit the ground, rolling back as a knife whizzed by. She heard a groan and saw that one of Fianna's knives had been buried into 11's side.
It gave Tate time to shift to the people she really had to worry about - the pair from Nine. The light-haired girl didn't seem to be much of a threat, and mostly stayed in the background, hovering around Rigby's hip. The boy himself was over a head taller than her. A swing cut straight at her, quicker than she had thought possible. While she lifted up her axe to block it, the sword cut open a line down her arm.
Pain laced through her body, and the second block she made was even weaker, stinging her arms with the force of it. If it wasn't for Fianna making a few wild slashes with her spare knife, Tate wasn't sure she could've taken another so soon.
With Tate having to take a step back and Fianna fighting with just her knife for the time being, Rigby sensed his chance to run for it. His blue eyes darted from one area to the next, looking for where to go. Tate recognized it at the last second, trying to swing her axe in time to get one of them. The pair from 9 rushed past, Rigby's sword slicing a red line across the 11 boy's neck. A cannon fired immediately. The two vaulted over him and began to run for the jungle.
"Damn it," Tate cursed as she watched the pair fade away. "I should've gone after them."
In the moment, she had just felt how exhausted her arms felt. That sliver of doubt had created a chasm, worrying that she wouldn't be able to take on Rigby. But standing there, as Fianna wrenched her spear from the dirt in which it had fallen, she was kicking herself. He had been desperate to get out of there, he had been fighting that boy from 11 longer than when Tate and Fianna had shown up.
"It's not your fault," Fianna held the spear in her arms. "You got a pretty nasty cut, and he swung at you hard. Another fight for another day."
With the two cannons, that meant they were down to ten total tributes. That fight coming another day would potentially doom her. A refreshed Rigby with his quivering district partner could do a lot of harm to them. Then there was Drago still, who they hadn't seen since they left that morning. Since it was only the third day, Tate felt like they had spent more time apart than together. What trust did he have with either of them?
"Ten," Tate muttered as she drew parallel with Fianna, making their way back through on the dusty road. The warmth hung like a sheet in the air, suffocating them with every step. What little water she had been able to bring had been mostly used by lunch. The last few drops were a lifesaver, though.
"Ten," Fianna echoed.
"If Gemma made it through the day, we know four of them are us. Rigby and his partner make six. Adelaide is seven." Tate reasoned through it. "Three others."
"The girl from 10 is still alive too," Fianna replied.
"A threat too," Tate said.
The walk back was unnaturally pleasant for the active day. Two had already died and by the time they were in familiar territory again, they heard a third cannon sound. The sand was just in view when it sounded, the cornucopia's glint peeking through the trees. Birds chirped in the air, only disturbed by the sound of the cannon.
On the beach, Gemma's body was draped in seaweed and a hovercraft was descending to retrieve her body. It hadn't been her that morning, but it was now. With the green streaked through her hair, it made her look unnaturally beautiful. She had suffered enough, Tate thought to herself. If she was in that position, she wished she would die quickly.
"I'm sorry." Tate put her arms around Drago before she could convince herself otherwise. He embraced her, echoing no response.
Each of them had lost a district partner now. Tate knew how hard that was, harder than you thought it would be. As she rubbed his back, she couldn't help but wonder - what effect would his death have? Fianna's? The girl had been through a lot with her. What if she had to kill her?
That night was spent in relative silence. Drago looked more like himself than ever, spending time stacking his arrows into a quiver and cleaning his bow out in the water. Tate counted four knives on his person as well, whatever he would use in a time most dire. Were they Gemma's knives, she wondered? One last remembrance of her?
Fianna kept to herself as well, but not as much out of intention as accident. She needed rest almost as bad as Tate, and took advantage of some relative peace for a snooze. No cannons sounded to disrupt her, so her pudgy nose snored its way through the evening.
Tate sat on the beach, her back against the end of the cornucopia. It was the first time she had felt like she was safe since arriving at the arena. When tributes numbered less than 10, usually the Capitol would greet them with a message from their families. No one wanted to miss a chance to see their family one last time if they could.
She ran her fingers through the sand, tracing Callum's name in the grains. They filtered through her fingers and stuck to her hand, but she didn't mind. It was all a memory of home. Fianna didn't need to come over and tell her that she would take the first shift, but Tate knew she would. If she won, maybe Callum could stomach it. At least if you lost your sister, her friend made it out, right?
Her mind raced rabbit holes. Tate still thought she could win, but every question was a what if. Adelaide. Fianna. Drago. Rigby. The names echoed in her mind - they were the threats to her. She knew it. The Capitol played their game dirty, she was realizing. She didn't know Adelaide or Rigby, but had no reason to dislike them. Besides, well, their attempts at killing her. Fianna was the closest thing she had to a friend in the arena. And Drago…Drago was complicated, but not altogether in a bad way anymore.
That night, the moon rose, serene, over the water. It cast its light down, almost obscuring the Capitol flag as that night's memorial began. Gemma's face appeared first, her familiar grin on the screen. But that wasn't the Gemma she remembered anymore. She remembered the small girl tucked into a spare blanket, bleeding wounds leaking everywhere. A scared young woman who just wanted to go home.
The second was the boy from 11, whose name she didn't know. He had a family somewhere, who was probably being prepared to give a message to him the next day. Some words of encouragement. But because he was gone, Tate's family would get to talk to her.
The last was the surprise - the one who had passed that morning. The girl from District 12, young, probably only 14 or 15. She had a determined look to her, but she was tiny. Who got to her? Tate wasn't sure.
The anthem ended. Nine remained. Home was calling, like a siren song out there on a rock in the distance. She had managed to make it through with a few scrapes and cuts so far. As the melody rose, she felt herself drowning in the noise.
Day 4
The Arena
A hand shakes her awake in the early hours of the morning. Tate blinks a few times and nods at Fianna to let her know that she's lucid. It was weird how, in the arena, one person was just needed to keep watch, but oftentimes, those people weren't completely awake when they needed to be keeping watch.
Regardless, her watch was uneventful. When the sun began to come up, after a few hours of watching the night's sky (whether it was real or not, she had no idea), the announcer's voice came over the arena.
"Good morning tributes," The voice was kept relatively steady. "We are down to the final 9 tributes left in the arena. As a reward for making it this long, and to provide an extra boost in the waning days of the arena, we have secured interviews with all of your families to share with you and with our audience in the Capitol. For now, we ask that you pause and take a listen."
Both Fianna and Drago were up by then, watching the sky intently. The first interview would be Drago's family from District 1. A pair of smiling parents come into view, along with younger siblings crowding around the camera. The video is short, but his mother and father share their good luck wishes and that they've prepared a meal for once he gets home. One of his siblings gives the camera a hug, which Tate couldn't help but get a little choked up at.
Suddenly, she feels like watching the interviews is a bad idea. Learning more about the people that are actively trying to kill her would make her feel worse about what was going to come. Those faces - the ones that would hopefully look at her on the Victory Tour - would be burned into her memory. The hope, the fear. No one was safe.
Fianna's mother was next. Hers was easier, and indeed, funnier. She was short and to the point, built bulky and broad like her daughter. The worry was evident, though. Hope was couched between well wishes and affirmations that she would be keeping her room ready for her on her return. Tate wasn't watching Fianna, but she could imagine her response.
It shifted once again, and Tate froze as her father and brother sat together for their interview. She knew Callum well enough to tell that he wasn't sleeping well. Whether he hadn't slept since the Games began was a complete guess, it wasn't an unreasonable one. Her father looked refreshed, and honestly, happy to be speaking with the reporters.
"I always believed Tate would win," Her father was practically glowing. "Ever since she was little, I knew she was a winner. To be in the final nine is amazing, but we're confident that she'll be back with us in no time."
You never thought that, Tate thought to herself. Hearing his words, how hollow they rang in her ears, she realized that the reason she had gone into the Games in the first place was proven to be a farce. Those words were what she had wanted to hear her whole life. She knew him too well to believe that they were real.
"I love my sister," Callum's voice comes next, clear and confident despite his apparent tiredness. "She'll do whatever she can to get home, I know she will. We're all watching from Four. The next trip to the beach will be with her at our side again." A small smile passes his face before it disappears.
Gone too soon. Tate has a ghost of a smile left on her lips as she rests her head back against the sand. The words of Adelaide's sweet family are drowned out by her own thoughts of home. The first thing she would do, besides hug her brother and friends, would be getting her first good rest in ages. The thought of her bed was almost too much to take at that point in the Games.
Her eyes are closed, picturing her twin's face behind her eyelids. That was the last glimpses of him she would get before the Games were done. To think, at the beginning of them, there was no guarantee that she would. For many of those families, they got nothing. She should be grateful, but the only thing she wanted was more time. More time for everything.
Tate missed all of Adelaide's and the girl from 8's (who was revealed to still be alive) families discussing, but saw when the girl from 9's family appeared. Her name was revealed to her - Shelby. Shelby and Rigby, it fit. They praised him as much as her, which felt appropriate to Tate. He was the one keeping her alive and they knew it. She just hoped that they weren't filling themselves with false hope. When it came down to it, you fought for one person in the Games. Yourself.
She stopped paying attention after Shelby's family, but noted who was all still left as she began to put some leftover food in her pocket. Tate didn't know if things would get hairy and she would need to leave. Drago. Fianna. Tate. Adelaide. The girl from 8. Both from 9. The girl from 10. The boy from 12.
"I'm going to go wash off," Drago rubbed his face. Tate shrugged, knowing she had enjoyed the ocean water, while some of the others stuck to the fresh stuff in the jungle.
A cannon sounded in the distance as Drago stepped into the jungle. His steps faltered, his bow slung over his shoulder and quiver over the other. The shiny arrows glinted in the sunlight before disappearing behind the jungle.
"Cold," Fianna sat down heavily beside her, taking a swig out of a canteen. "Someone targeted just after watching their family for the first time?"
"I'm starting to think Adelaide is that person," Tate grumbled as they sat together. "Devious, cunning. It wouldn't surprise me."
"She didn't seem like that in the Capitol," Fianna remarked.
"She sold her part well," Tate answered in return, sighing. "And we all bought it. What did it get us? Two dead Careers, essentially, maybe more tributes down. If we're lucky maybe she'll run into Rigby and take care of one more."
"Wouldn't that be a first," Fianna chuckled dryly.
Time began to stretch. The sun, which had been steadily rising, was now directly overhead, marking it was noon. There was still no sign of Drago, but also no cannon sounding. For just washing up, even a long bath, it was starting to get a bit too long for that. Tate's eyes looked to Fianna after a while, the two having been spending their mornings separately.
"He's not coming back," Fianna traced in the sand with a knife. "Not unless he's coming to kill us."
Suddenly, it all feels precarious. The knife the girl's holding, Drago leaving, all of it. Just eight of them remained. Three of them in one place, in one alliance, were asking for someone to turn on the others. She should've known Drago was going to leave, holding his bow and arrows like that. It wasn't unusual for them to take weapons with them everywhere, though, so it didn't seem that fishy. But a casual look around only cemented the fact Drago had snitched some of the food himself.
"Let's divide the stuff," Tate suggested. She had to take the horse by the reins. Either they fought, they went separate ways, or stayed allies. If she could avoid a direct fight with Fianna, that would be preferable.
"Sounds like a good idea," The redhead smiled and the two began to partition everything. Knives, food, water, they split it 50-50. Whatever they didn't want, they left or threw into the sea. When the supplies dwindled, Tate found herself reluctant to go.
"Good luck," Tate shook the girl's hand firmly.
"If I don't make it, I hope you do," Fianna nodded at her. "And, if you get a chance, rip that turncloak bastard open with that axe."
The bit of brevity made it easier, Tate laughing as she stepped back. "I'd say not if you get there first, but I think he's got something for me, don't you think?"
It felt almost normal, the two girls going in opposite directions as they joked and teased. Beneath the hardened exterior during pre-games was a girl that was as bull-headed and determined as Tate. She could imagine Fianna fitting in with them just fine at home. Tate paused as she watched the red hair disappear beneath the trees and go out of sight. She quickly swiped at her eyes and made her way into the jungle.
It felt more dangerous, shadows lurking in every corner. If she ran into Fianna again, maybe the girl would let her off. But if she ran into Drago, an arrow could go through her skull. Being alone, it felt like the jungle itself was closing in around her, suffocating her, pushing her to get found. Suddenly, those days and nights spent out on the beach seemed as though they had left her unprepared for the end, spending the last days in the privacy of the trees.
Making the way to the water seemed like the best idea for her. Not only did it remind her of home, which Tate could convince herself wasn't important, but it was where she was most comfortable. She knew she was a strong swimmer and could at least get away from people who had no ranged weapons.
As she was pushing a stick out of her way, a cannon fired. Before she could even think about who it could be, someone came crashing down from the tree atop her and flattened her to the ground. Tate gasped as she hit the ground, her axe jostling out of her grip and falling to the side. Lucky, really, that it didn't carve her open.
"No!" Tate groaned as she reached to grab hold of it.
Her assailant was a girl, one almost as big as Fianna. She, too, was aiming for the axe. Whether her own weapon had gotten misplaced or something else had happened to it, the girl appeared determined to get Tate's. Luckily, the girl from 4 had an easier grip on it, as well as years of training with an axe. That training allowed her to know where you gripped it to win control. All those years, it was in preparation for the bloodbath, but here she was, on the ground of a jungle, dirt slicing her skin open as easily as a knife, grappling with a girl in single combat.
The two held onto it as tight as they could. What the girl lacked in training, she made up for in brute strength. Tate was strong too, but not physically imposing. Every muscle she had in her arms was straining, aiming to get that axe back into her grip. Her very life depended on it.
With a kick, the girl is sent sprawling away from the blade. Tate brought it down on her in the next second, looking away as blood splattered her face and uniform. A cannon fired afterwards, cementing what she already knew. The girl from District 10 was dead.
Tate rolled onto her back, allowing herself a few moments to catch her breath. It had been knocked out of her as soon as she had been forced to the ground, but she had been beyond lucky that her attacker had no weapon at the time. If she had, Tate would have been dead.
She got to her feet once more, hauling the bloodied blade along with her. The remainder of her journey wasn't far, but Tate knew she wanted to soak in the water that night. She took the axe with her, allowing the blood to disseminate in the water. As sunset fell, another cannon went off. Just five left now. It was so far in the distance it was difficult to hear.
That cannon could have been anyone. Whereas the others, she knew it wasn't Fianna because of either seeing the girl or having been near her recently, she openly worried that one was. It felt silly to worry, especially knowing that she would rather die by someone else's hand than Tate's own. Did that make her imperfect, or only human? Tate didn't know if there was a difference.
When the anthem began, Tate had to crane her neck around trees to watch. With only five left, it could be any time that the Capitol decided it was time to begin the finale. A nice five day Games. Tate knew no sleep would happen that night. On the off chance the Capitol began it that night, she couldn't be caught off guard.
As the first face was the girl from 8 - Jess, she knew from her interviews, it confirmed both good and bad - Fianna, Drago and Adelaide had all made it. The girl from 9 was second, but no Rigby. Only a matter of time it had been, really. Tate just wondered who had got the unpleasant event of fighting off Rigby that time.
Third was the girl from 10, which Tate had known herself. And last, the one that must've come earlier, was the boy from 12. Five, all of whom she knew. One. Two. Four. Six. Nine. Drago. Fianna. Tate. Adelaide. Rigby. It was inevitable, really. But was her victory inevitable? Sitting there, on the rocky beach with the dark jungle ahead of her, she felt smaller and more scared than ever. Clutching at straws, chasing a mirage, call it whatever you wanted. Tate was going to reach that horizon.
Day 5 - The Finale
The Arena
The confirmation began when the ground began to shake underneath her. Above, the sky was in that murky early morning period of trying to decide if it was going to be light out, or stay dark. The sun hadn't yet come up, but there was light. Despite the shaking of the ground, Tate brought herself to her feet. Luckily, the route she had taken lay more or less in line with the cornucopia, a fair distance north of the volcano, which was surely causing the disruption that morning.
With her axe firmly in her right hand, she began to sprint in the direction of the earlier bloodbath. While no Games was guaranteed to be the same as the last or similar to what came before it, they often rhymed. The cornucopia was a largely open space where they could be trusted to have a bloody fight between tributes. The Capitol wouldn't give up on that.
Tate was tired, but adrenaline was rushing through her veins. The thought of one final fight and then getting to go home - it almost sounded blissful. Just this little bit, and if she could make it, home awaited. Home, peace, and a life of luxury and basking in your earlier winnings. Would she one day think back on these days as the 'good ones'? Right now, they didn't feel like it.
Sounds of fighting could be heard even from a ways out. Shouting, steel clanging, and grunts of pain. Tate couldn't place who they were yet, but it checked her reality - the final fight would not be so easy. It was the five most capable people in the arena left. They wanted to go home just as badly as she did.
She was fortunate that the pathway she was on was vacant. Even as it unfurled into the sandy beach that the cornucopia stood on, there was no one blocking her path. There were only two people fighting on the beach yet, but it was brutal enough to have sounded like many more. Drago's bow lay forgotten on the sand a few feet away and Tate could see some of his arrows broken or driven into the sand.
Instead, he had a sword swinging down, clanging hard on the defending spear. Fianna grunted in response and shoved the blunt pole-side against his abdomen, sending him falling into the sand. She whipped the spear back around in an attempt to catch him while he was down, but the spear was clunkier than a sword even in the hands of the most well-trained spearwoman. Drago's sword slashes at her, cutting down her arm and lacing it open with blood trickling down her skin.
He overextended, though, and Tate could see it from a mile away. If it wasn't as long of a weapon as a spear, it was possible he could've gotten killed. But Fianna's spear raked across his shoulder, splitting open the uniform to a deep red gouge. Drago didn't let that go by, and his elbow caught Fianna across the jaw. She stumbled backwards and Tate could almost imagine just how much it hurt.
What do I do? Tate fretted. If she ran in there now, even to protect Fianna, she could end up killing Drago and then be left with the prospect of finishing her off too. They weren't allies anymore, but it still didn't feel right. It was like killing a classmate. But could she trust Fianna to feel the same way?
The longer she waited, the more perilous it was getting for her former ally. Each deflection was more rushed than the last, and she was beginning to run out of breath. Her jaw was set in a defiant look, but both were bloodied and bruised. No use in waiting. Tate thought to herself, steeling her grip on her axe and running in.
The sand slowed her, just as it did during the Bloodbath, making each moment seem longer. The closer she got, the worse she felt. About ten yards away, she saw Drago get an opening. Fianna's hands were up, holding onto her spear that had nearly gotten knocked out of her hands, opening her torso. He didn't miss, driving the sword into her stomach. The girl slid off the end and hit the ground.
"No!" Tate yelled, bringing her axe down on him. Drago deflected it and aimed to take a few steps backward.
She swung a second time, rage sparking in her like a white-hot flame. He managed to dance out of the way, keeping just outside of her range. Without meaning to, Tate was driving him towards the outskirts of the jungle. Smoke was lifting up in the air by that point and was settling in a cloud all over the arena. While the volcano hadn't exploded, the lava it was oozing was causing enough problems as it was. Many of the trees on the south end of the arena were up in flames.
With her focus so laser-pointed on Drago, she had nearly missed the hulking ashy-haired boy from Nine aiming straight for her. A scythe cut right where her head would've been, if she hadn't hit the ground immediately. Doing so left her vulnerable, but she had her axe still. Tate prayed that they would focus on each other, but Drago didn't pass up the chance. His sword angled right for her chest, but caught the crux of her axe.
Tate grunted as she held it up, attempting to stop the blade from piercing her skin. Rigby's swing at Drago saved her, allowing her to roll out of the way and back onto her knees at least. The force of Rigby's next blow on her axe nearly sent her back down, but she stayed upright enough to get back to her feet.
She spat on the ground as she watched Drago's form retreat into the now densely-smoked woods. Coward, Tate thought as she readied herself for the next onslaught. Rigby was more physically intimidating than anyone else left, but also slower than anyone else. If she could play it right, he could tire himself like he had at the base of that volcano.
Tate stepped back into the sand once again and planted her feet. His two-handed swings with the scythe didn't do anything to help his agility, only making them slower and more off-balance. She didn't take advantage of the opportunities yet, allowing him to think that he had her on the ropes. His fierce blue eyes were narrowed on her - for a second she pondered the fate of his district partner. Had Drago or Fianna gotten to her? Or Adelaide? She felt like it was a Career since he seemed to have a vendetta against her and not just Drago.
Tate's axe was used more as a shield now than anything, but she was more glad than ever for the Capitol's use of proper steel. If not, she would've had a hard time keeping it all under control. Honestly, a real shield wouldn't have hurt either. Still, Rigby drove at her, making wild cuts with his blade. It would have worked with less capable tributes, but she wasn't one of them.
She saw her opening wide as day when it appeared. As he reached up with both hands to, predictably, slash down at her, Tate jumped out of the way to the side. As the blade carved down onto the sand, Tate swung her axe into his side. A cannon shot and he hit the ground, blood staining the sand beneath it.
There was no time to relax, especially as an arrow whizzed by her head and hit the cornucopia with a dull twang. Tate swung her head around to get a good view, seeing Drago's light blonde hair peeking out of the brush of the jungle. Really a coward, Tate thought as she wondered how to get to him best. With how many arrows were littering the ground from his earlier fight with Fianna, she wondered if he had many left. She had to take a chance.
She raced forward, relief flooding her as only one more arrow flew at her, tearing a strip of the uniform from her side, but not catching her skin. Tate knew she had caught him off guard due to the look of surprise in his eyes as she lifted her axe. His bow blocked the first attack, but it cut it in two, rendering it unusable. As she twisted her axe back into her grip, pain laced up her arm.
A knife was lodged into her upper arm, having hardly any time to lodge the fact that it was there and work to get it out before worse happened. Adelaide punched the knife and Tate screamed, white-hot pain numbing her whole body. Her axe fell out of her hand as she hit the ground, her left arm feeling nearly dead.
Tate could hardly grasp her surroundings, but she began to make a slow crawl to the cornucopia. She felt like she was going to die, with her on the ground and Drago caught in place, Adelaide had the upper hand. Another knife was thrown at her as she lunged towards the metal walls. This one caught her side and she groaned in pain.
Her breathing was uneven and shallow, but the best she could do was reach for the knife on her side and begin to pull it out. By some saving grace, the amount of which her arm hurt and her side already ached, pulling it out wasn't as bad as it could've been. The slim girl from District 6 was standing over Drago, whose sword was kicked to the side. Tate jerked her head to the side to avoid watching as a knife came down on his face. Another cannon fired immediately.
While Adelaide got up calmly, Tate could see no obvious wounds. She had grievous ones, on par with what Gemma had suffered, she knew that without looking at them. Her left arm was useless, and she hardly had the strength to crawl, much less stand.
"Didn't you know it would be us here?" Adelaide's voice was upbeat and cheerful. "Your ten was impressive, I'll give you that. But only one of us gets to go home."
Home. In her deliriousness and pain, the word struck a chord. She could see the rolling white-capped waves of District 4, Brooklyn's smile and her laughter ringing in her ears. Callum's arms around her, hugging her to make her feel safe. She had things to live for. To die for.
Another throwing knife sailed through the air towards her, but Tate managed to lift a spare sword that was laying on the ground to send it skittering off the cornucopia. With much effort, and laughter from her opposite number, Tate managed to get to her feet, at first leaning against the cornucopia. Her body wailed its discomfort and disagreement, threatening to send her toppling to her knees once more.
Twenty or thirty yards separated the two. All Adelaide had left was one, bigger knife in her right hand. The kind that couldn't be thrown. As weak as she was now, Tate knew she couldn't best her in hand-to-hand. Especially attempting to lift the sword she had gotten, which felt more lucky than having any sort of skill now.
Between them lay two bodies - Rigby's bigger one closer to Tate and Fianna's not that far apart. Unfortunately for her, the last gasp of courage she had was misplaced. Tate stumbled forward, mustering what she had left of her strength. Her legs disagreed with her, unable to lift her feet over Rigby's torso and sending her falling to the ground. One of her hands sliced open on the sword she held, staining the sand into its crimson color.
Adelaide's chorus of laughter erupted again, and she walked leisurely towards her. Tate knew it was over, clambering to get a hold of the sword with her now blood-slicked hands. Things happened too fast for Tate to get a good feel for what was going on, but all of a sudden, Adelaide screamed and fell to the ground, nearly on top of her. Since she was so distracted, Tate managed to grab the knife she had dropped and stabbed her in the side, driving it in as deep as she could. The cannon wasn't immediate, but it went off within a few seconds.
No announcers went off to say that Tate had won and the 113th Games were over. Am I missing someone? Tate wondered blearily.
A knife was dug into Adelaide's ankle, blood still dripping from it. A small, quivering smile was present on Fianna's ghastly white face.
"Y-you," Tate whispered as she laid back in the sand, the two girls being able to lock eyes for the time being. "You didn't have to do that."
"And what?" Fianna's ragged voice answered. A bubble of blood popped by her mouth. "She kills you, figures out I'm bleeding out over here, and kills me? No, no. Now at least I get to see if I can bleed out slower than you."
Tate dropped her weapon into the sand, leaning on her right shoulder as she glanced at the girl from 2. She could tell just from how she felt - despite all the pain, Fianna looked like she wouldn't last another minute. She was lucky she had even lasted long enough to stab Adelaide's ankle. Without it, Fianna was right, they both would've been gone.
"Go live that life you want. Don't listen to anyone else," Fianna whispered, her eyes hazy as they began to close. "You owe me."
Tears streaked down Tate's face as she nodded numbly. With what strength she could muster, she sat up as the cannon went off. She placed a shuddering kiss on the girl's forehead. I owe you. Tate thought to herself.
"Congratulations to the winner of the 113th Annual Hunger Games - Tate Moreno of District 4!" The announcer proclaims as the anthem begins. A hovercraft can be heard dully, but all Tate was looking at was her surroundings.
The sun had come up and was shining brilliantly, illuminating the area where her competitors had fallen, one by one. Fianna's eyes were closed, her bright red hair spread in a halo around her face. Even in death, she looked intimidating. Adelaide's picture of shock was still evident on her, and Rigby's pain was still apparent. They were frozen in time, and they would never be forgotten - at least not by Tate.
As the claws descend on her, Tate focused on the girl from 2 once again. I owe you. She thought. Live the life you want. Somehow, Tate vowed to make good on the promise. She owed her.