Chapter 31- Nell Slatefield
Trestle picks up a rock and throws it at a tree; it ricochets off with a crack and disappears into the bushes. "You alright?" I ask.
"Do you think I am?" he snaps, chucking another rock, which goes further than the first. I hear it hit something hard but I don't see what it is.
"If you would just let me put something on that," I say, but my ally rounds on me.
"It's nothing! Just let it alone, Nell!" It's not nothing, actually, because I can clearly see where the cat cut him this morning. It's a long, ugly slash on his arm, but he won't let me bandage it or anything. Fine. He can get blood poisoning and die if he doesn't want me to fix him.
"Your life, Trestle," I say, pushing past him and walking to the edge of the hill we're currently on. Took ages to get up it, and now it looks like we're going to have to go down the other side. No sign of water anywhere.
"The Weasel's gotten hurt worse than this on a daily basis," Trestle says, catching up to me and regaining his usual sarcastic tone, instead of the angry and hurt voice he was using earlier. "That cat? Piece of cake! It's dead, isn't it?"
"It seems it wants to take you with it," I say, pointing to his cut.
"Took your shoes and my arm, so you might say that cat cost an arm and a leg to get rid of," Trestle says, laughing at his own joke. It's funny, actually; I snort and dissolve into real giggles.
That cat leapt at us in the dark this morning; it wasn't huge; maybe half my size, but it was quick and pretty powerful. "Trestle! Mutt!" I screamed, and he woke up almost instantly, grabbing his knives. The cat went right over my head after I ducked, landing on Trestle's branch and becoming his problem, not mine.
"Down the tree! Bring the pack!" he shouted, slashing at the cat while it slashed back at him. I grabbed the back pack, threw it over my shoulder, and climbed down the tree faster than I've ever climbed trees before. Auntie really shouldn't be mad about me climbing trees at home anymore; it's coming in handy in here.
I waited at the base of the tree, but Trestle didn't come. Honestly, I thought he'd been killed after a while, but the cannon didn't fire. The cat kept screaming above me, and then sometimes I could hear Trestle swearing or shouting at it, letting me know he wasn't dead. I tell you; it was a pretty uneasy time down on the ground too; I didn't know who or what could be down here. Better down here than up there with Miss Kitty, though.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when something heavy dropped down beside me and didn't move. "Trestle?"
"Let's go," he said, climbing down the tree and landing next to me, quieter than the lump that fell before he came down.
"What was that? What fell?"
"The cat," he said. "There's probably more of them, so let's get out of here." Unfortunately, in the rush to get away, I left my shoes draped over the tree, and now I'm barefoot. That's just fine with me, except most of the time I don't know what I'm stepping on. Spiders, bugs, the occasional snake- that's all up in the air as for what's on the ground.
"So, where are we going?" I ask, looking down over the hill's edge.
"We need water," Trestle says, joining me in looking. "We could hike back to the original beach; there was a pond there we could stay at."
"That's in the direction we just came from!" I say. "Do we really have to hike the whole way back?"
"I thought there would be water this way! Sorry for bursting your bubble," he says, rolling his eyes. I'm tired, and I've really, really had enough.
"Just shut up," I say, pushing him backwards with both hands. "You're not any good at directions, are you?" He narrows his eyes at me.
"Don't you talk to me like that. I'm saving your ass out here."
"Oh really? How so? By getting me non-existent water?" I fold my arms across my chest. Seeder said not to trust him, but I don't think he'll kill me. We're friends. Aren't we?
Trestle tenses, making me very nervous, but I stand my ground. "I'm not scared of you," I say.
He starts to come towards me again, but freezes before he takes two steps. "Shut up, Nell, and come with me."
"Why should I?" I ask. I'm running my mouth again, but it's hard to stop. I've always had a hard time stopping my mouth, which gets me into trouble over and over again. I got away with it in the Capitol, but I have to try to remember I'm not there anymore.
"Just get up a tree!" His tone scares me, so I immediately grab the nearest tree and climb up as high as I can. Trestle's up a different tree, and his eyes say Be quiet.
I understand why he's put me in a tree when the boy from 8 appears, walking slowly but with a purpose through the knee-high ferns and flowers. "You're hiding, but I can see you," he says, coming to stand underneath my tree.
This is it; this is the show that the Capitol wants to see. I can guarantee that we three are on camera right now, and everyone is riveted to their screens to see how it plays out. So, I'm going to do what I promised to do and give them a show.
"How's it going?" I ask, gripping the tree with my toes and trying to find a better handhold with my fingers. It's not as tall a tree as the one we spent the night in, but it'll do for now.
"Well enough, and yourself?" the boy asks.
"Had a run in with a big cat earlier, but otherwise I'm excellent," I say, smiling. The boy hasn't moved, but I move up the tree a little ways. He obviously went to the Cornucopia, because he also has a backpack, and he's holding a long silver spear. Which could kill me. Perfect.
Trestle hasn't made a move; I think he's still hoping that the boy hasn't seen him yet and he can get away. If he goes without me, I'll kill him. It's legal in here, you know.
"So, what's up? Looking for company?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation going. The boy from 8 doesn't seem like one for long talks, but I'll give it a shot.
His face doesn't change as he raises the spear and throws it directly at me. I drop down the tree automatically, just catching myself before I fall out and hit the ground. The spear went right over my head and landed in the trees somewhere behind me. "Hey! That wasn't very nice!"
"I don't care," he says, unsmiling. I don't remember him ever smiling in Training, or during his interview, but then again, I didn't pay that much attention to him. Maybe I should have, because now he's trying to kill me.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Trestle creeping down the tree; I keep my full attention on the boy in front of me; maybe Trestle can take him out. Almost as fast as I can blink, the boy's thrown a knife I didn't know he had; it lodges in the tree just inches from Trestle's head. Well that's failed.
"Don't try moving; I can kill you both," the boy says. I hold onto the tree trunk for dear life; I'm not ready to go down yet. So I do what I do best: talk.
"What's your name? We really ought to get more acquainted," I say, leaning my head against the rough bark. "We could all be friends; I know you're a nice guy."
"Don't even try it, 11."
"Oh, why not? I'm just being friendly! What's your name? Tom? Rollings? Kieven?"
"Azlon."
"Why, Azlon, I think we're on our ways to being good friends, you and me. Just let me get down from this tree and we can really get to know each other."
Azlon shrugs. "I'll wait. You've got a pack, and he doesn't," he says, jerking his thumb towards Trestle. My ally looks furious at being treed. "Which I'm willing to guess means you've got water and he doesn't. One of you is going to crack."
Trestle and I look at each other; our fight earlier has been forgotten, for now at least. Azlon's right; Trestle's got no water and I've got barely a third of a bottle. It's not going to last long in here, what with this muggy heat.
Azlon clears a section of ferns and flowers, making an almost bare patch for him to sit on. He sits down on a log, folds his arms, and looks up at us, still with that same blank expression. I can feel triumph behind it, though. Well, he hasn't won yet, and he never will if I can help it.
Across the way, Trestle pulls Azlon's knife out of the tree. As soon as Trestle throws it, Azlon ducks and the knife hits the ground completely useless. "Thank you for giving that back," Azlon says, brushing dirt off of the blade and holding it tight in his right hand again. His spear's somewhere behind me; if I could just get that…
Back in the Launch Room, I was terrified of what might happen in the arena. I've been moderately scared the past day and a half, but now I'm full blown terrified at being treed. I'm going to run out of water at some point, and then what? Azlon's closer to me than he is to Trestle, so maybe my ally could make a run for it, but I'm pretty done for if we don't solve this problem.
Like I always do, I keep transforming my fear into cheekiness.
"You're going to get bored just sitting there; why don't you take a walk and find me a pretty flower?" I ask, trying to get comfortable in this tree. The branches are too weak for me to fully sit on, so I'm stuck holding onto the side. That's another problem; how long can I keep holding on like this? Always while climbing trees I've had a place to rest. My arms are strong, but they'll get shaky really soon.
"Why don't you come down and pick a flower yourself?" Azlon counters. I didn't peg him as being incredibly bright, but I'm seeing some smarts shine through his sullen façade.
"Hey, whatever happened to your little ally?" I ask. "Your district partner?"
"Don't really care, to be honest," he says. "I don't have allies."
"Pity; it's fun having a friend in the arena."
Azlon looks up at me like I'm the one who's stupid. "There are no friends in the arena."
Just have to keep him talking; I can see Trestle trying to make a break for it again, and maybe if I can distract Azlon long enough then my ally can get away.
"I'll kill you as soon as you step down that tree, so do come on down," Azlon says, not even taking his eyes off of me. Trestle curses and climbs back up.
My arms are starting to shake now; my time in the tree is limited. I'm not ready to die; not yet. Time to look around and see what I can do to get myself out of this mess. Aha! A few feet away from my tree there's another tree, with stronger branches and a thicker trunk. It's right on the edge of the hill, so that's an escape route if I needed one.
I take a deep breath, turn as much as I can, then push with all my strength off of my weak tree; I barely catch a branch of my target tree and my legs swing over open air. My arms hurt and shake, but I manage to swing my legs up like I did last night in our big tree that still has my boots, and I sit up, safe.
"Well done," Azlon says, looking up at me. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was impressed.
"Thank you. Can you let us go now?"
"No."
"Alright. Then I'll wait you out too."
While Azlon's attention is on me, I see Trestle making strange hand motions. One hand holds an imaginary object, the other pretends to pull something back. What is he doing? Then he points to his back, and then me; I understand now. Slingshot! My slingshot is in my backpack. I can't get it out while Azlon is watching me, though.
It's time to play the Waiting Game, and I intend to win.