Chapter 50: Red Twilight
Day 6
Venatrix doubted anyone slept that night.
Percy didn't even try to pretend. He sat upright, curled in on himself in the safety of their animal-skin tent. When he started shivering, Venatrix practically shoved him into the sweater she'd been offering under his nose. He blinked in the darkness, weakly lifting his arms to help with the task, and Venatrix knew exactly where his mind was.
What she wouldn't give for the privacy of the upstairs bathroom in her mother's mansion.
"Hey."
When Percy didn't respond, she laid a forceful hand on his crossed leg. The bouncing in his knee stilled at her touch.
"Look at me."
He did; the thin mask he'd kept in place around the others dissolved when he met her gaze. "I didn't know," he rasped. "If—if I had known…" He stopped. A clouded frown twisted his lips before he dropped his gaze.
It wouldn't have changed the outcome. It's still easier to know.
"You need to snap out of it, Perce," Venatrix urged quietly.
He shook his head sharply, as if trying to disperse the thought, before nodding slowly. "You're right." His voice was barely audible. "Of course you're right." He cursed under his breath, and the knee-bouncing started again.
"Hey, hey." Scooting right up next to him, Venatrix wrapped a heavy arm around his shoulders. Her other hand— the right one— reached across her lap to grab his, thumb pressing into the matching scar that lined his palm. "You'll get through this, alright?"
Percy's eyes seemed to look right through her. "Will I?"
In the following beat of silence, Venatrix squeezed his hand again. "Look at you. You saved all our asses yesterday; you're practically carrying this alliance. You're strong, you're capable… You're one of the best goddamn tributes in this arena." The smile she sent him was genuine. "You just might."
(…Not if he keeps this up, he won't.)
For a long minute, Percy didn't answer. They stayed there, huddled against each other, until he finally opened his mouth.
"I'm… cold."
The quiet words fluttered against Venatrix's eardrums. The next frigid breath of air made her realize how right he was; only now did she notice the thick cloud of her exhale floating in front of her eyes, barely visible in the darkness. The more she thought about it, the more the temperature seemed to drop, until even the fur cloak and thick sweater couldn't dispel the shivers.
Once the howling wind set in, there was no way anyone could sleep through it.
A growing flickering light caught her eye, out beyond the sliver of a gap between the tent flaps. Cautiously, Venatrix leaned over and peeled back the pelt; she blinked in surprise at the swirl of fast-moving snowflakes that danced through the air, peppering her cheeks with a frigid tingling. Small drifts had already accumulated outside the tent amidst the mounds of grass and supply crates.
Near the center of the camp, a steady fire fought against the wind. The two sentinels fed it with due diligence and no shortage of muffled words barked between them, their night's watch a constant stand-off. About as much as Venatrix expected from the One pair.
She could hardly blame them for the fire either. As long as they remained vigilant, they'd handle anything the light may attract; if not, any nighttime raiders would find the rest of the pack more alert than anticipated.
Closing the flap, Venatrix shuffled back towards Percy, who'd started shivering again. This time, she pressed herself closer to him for her own sake; pity they hadn't included any extra blankets at the Cornucopia. They never have before, or at least not within her memory. Despite the ball of warmth that was her district partner and the thin but sturdy animal-skin tent over her head, Venatrix's mind couldn't help but wander back to the raging fire just outside, the possibility that she could get even a little bit warmer.
The lure of fire eventually drew her from the tent. Percy's eyes drifted up as she made to leave, and she gave his ankle a reassuring squeeze. "It's snowing."
For a moment, a trace of childish excitement leaked into her tone, as if she were watching the first flakes fall from the safety of her home with a cozy fire roaring in the hearth, instead of out in the arena where she'd catch the full brunt of it head-on. Still, she wrapped the cloak tightly around her body as she stepped out into the vicious wind. Its blistering masked the sound of her presence from the Ones. Flecks of snow caught on the curls and flyaways that escaped her long ponytail, and she tucked it neatly beneath her hood.
The wind obscured their words until Venatrix was mere meters from them. "—sure you even want to win?" Viper was sneering. "We all know they only vouched for you because—"
"Can you shut up already?"
"Just saying. I bet it'll be just the same if you win."
The shuffle of Venatrix's footsteps cut off Mariposa's reply; the pair whipped around at her approach.
"Pyke," Viper greeted cooly.
Mariposa shot him a side-eye. "Viper was just saying how he thinks I'll win."
"No I wasn't, you little slut—"
"Dude, really?"
Viper scowled at her, the noise lost to the bitter wind.
Sighing flatly, Venatrix set herself down between them, a distinct lack of energy in the slump of her shoulders. Trying to keep the One boy in line was a losing battle, especially the longer this went on, every word driving a further wedge between them. And what was the point, really? The status quo wasn't the safety net it used to be.
It's about time we cut off the serpent's head. …Too bad she'd left her sword in her tent.
The wariness in Viper's glare was almost enough to convince her he could read her mind. Ignoring him, she let her attention drift towards Mariposa. The other girl's reticent expression remained staunchly fixed on the woolen sky, empty as the blanket grey that covered it. The fact that it was just as empty beyond the clouds didn't sit well in Venatrix's stomach. But Mariposa hadn't even acknowledged her district partner's latest jab— if only Venatrix could borrow Viper's supposed mind-reading powers.
Seemingly bored with the girls' silence, the One boy stood to his feet and stalked towards one of the tents, muttering under his breath about the cold. Venatrix glanced after him, though she didn't bother scolding him for deserting his post.
Instead, she gave Mariposa a gentle nudge. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, blinking away the falling snowflakes from her eyelashes.
"You fell pretty hard yesterday," Venatrix said, unconvinced. Though it had been Idris who'd seen the worst of the mutt fight — Patience had taken him aside to pop what turned out to be a dislocated shoulder back into place — the image of the One girl colliding with the ground echoed painfully in her mind. Nevermind that she couldn't recall Mariposa stepping aside to lick her wounds once they'd returned.
Flecks of dried blood still sullied her cheeks; Venatrix gently tilted her chin to get a better look. She couldn't tell whether or not the light flush that seemed to color the skin beneath was really there or not, partially obscured by the flickering firelight danced across the planes of her face. She's been out here for a while. "It's fine, really," Mariposa said quietly.
She didn't protest, though, when Venatrix scooted closer until her leg pressed against the other girl's. Pulling off her glove, Venatrix licked her thumb before using it to scrub the blood from her face.
The One girl exhaled sharply when Venatrix unintentionally brushed over the scrape. "Sorry," she whispered, resolving to be more careful, more gentle.
But Mariposa only smiled, leaning lightly into Venatrix's palm once she'd stopped cleaning. "My shoulder's a bit stiff," she admitted, shrugging the cloak off of her left side. She yanked at the collar of her tunic to expose shadowy-purple bruises that mottled her skin. "My hip and my knees too, but it's really not that bad."
"You sure?"
She nodded again; it was difficult for Venatrix to see her expression as anything but genuine.
Wordlessly, she readjusted Mariposa's tunic and then her cloak to ward off the wind before leaning in closer. "Good," she whispered, barely audible, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks at their proximity. "Because I think we should leave today."
Mariposa stiffened. Venatrix, fingers still tangled in the fur of her cloak, held her tight. "The storm gives us the perfect cover," she murmured rapidly. "We'll take Percy with us, and—"
Muffled footsteps halted her; Venatrix pressed her forehead to Mariposa's before turning to face their guests, their intruders.
Though their cloaks covered the tops of their heads, Venatrix could pick out the red-haired duo of Viper and Patience just from the way they carried themselves. Of course. Again, she lamented the sword in her tent, though the knife on her belt could do the trick in a pinch. It'd be more than a pinch against a longsword and a spear, but then again, Venatrix was getting ahead of herself. She let her hand drop from Mariposa's collar. "What is it?"
Viper's scrutinizing gaze swept over them, their closeness; despite his quirked brow, he only jerked his chin upwards. "It's getting lighter."
He was right. In the glare of the firelight, she hadn't noticed the overhead greys shifting to a paler shade. The storm, however, raged on; gone were the pleasant breezes and sunny-side blues of days past. The blanket of clouds lay thick enough to obscure any hint of sunrise, any welcoming hues of pink and gold, any gradient whatsoever. If you asked which way was east and which was west based on the sky alone, Venatrix hadn't the slightest clue.
But it wasn't the greys that caught her attention— it was the trees.
As the even light gave way to their surroundings, the mix of deciduous and conifer had never stood quite so stark. Venatrix stood slowly. Her eyes traced the bloody tree line a few meters from where they'd made camp for the night, bright-red shivering between near-colorless needles. The wrath of the wind tore vibrant leaves from their boughs; they whipped through the air in a harsh rustling that took over when the insistent howling subsided, only to land amidst growing snow drifts like speckled blood. "Lovely," Mariposa muttered sarcastically, her voice nearly drowned out by the winter chorus.
"This is your fault, isn't it?" Patience shouted, words pitched high above the wind.
"If I could control the weather, why would I make it worse?" Venatrix retorted back, earning a displeased scowl from the Four girl. She didn't complain when the pair took a position on the opposing side of the fire; the dwindling flames were bound to cause enough problems anyways. Won't hold up in this weather.
Neither will this pack.
Subtly nudging Mariposa's back with her knee, Venatrix started back towards the unofficial District Two tent. Her boots crunched through the accumulating snow and frozen bits of grass, and the five-degree warmth of the inside sent a shiver down her spine. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as she shook herself out.
Percy sat exactly where she'd left him, though now a furry ball lay curled up in his lap. He made no move to stroke the cat, though, and when Venatrix took his bare hands in hers, they were chilled to the bone. A pang shot through her chest; Charcoal lifted his head when she knelt down next to them. "'Makers, Perce, you need these," she said in between hot breaths and fierce rubbing. He grunted in response, flinching when Venatrix threw him a pair of gloves. "Come on. It's a blizzard out there." She lowered her voice, leaning in; his cheeks were cold in her hands. "Look alive— we're getting out of here today."
To her relief, he slipped on the gloves himself.
By the time the pair of them made a reappearance outside— this time with the comforting familiarity of her sword strapped to her belt— more of the others had stuck their noses out as well. Grethel held her pot over the fire once again, not that Venatrix had any intention of consuming anything the Three girl cooked ever again. Percy's eyes squinted against the cold as they made a beeline for the campfire, though they widened when he caught sight of the trees, the water. "Is it frozen?" he murmured.
Venatrix squinted after him towards the dark abyss of water. "I can't really tell…" A sinking feeling swept through her stomach at the sight of their ship straining against its anchor, its shadowy sail creaking and bouncing in the wind. "I am not going near that thing today," she clipped. However much wind power it took to capsize a ship, she had no intention of finding out.
She also didn't want to give off the impression that she was hovering around her district partner because he couldn't take care of himself, so she snuffled around the supply bags in search of a ration bar before ultimately plopping down at his side. Before she could offer him a meal bar, the faint flute-tones of a parachute drifted over on the wind. Venatrix glanced up to see the gift fighting its way through the air currents to land squarely in Percy's lap. He blinked at it before untying the rolled-up note that came attached. Venatrix peered over his shoulder, but she couldn't make out the words written in Morwenna's tight scrawl before he tore the note to shreds, tossing it into the flames. He didn't move to open the gift.
"Percy," Venatrix urged, distinctly aware of the half-curious, half-envious stares of their allies.
Ever-so-slightly, he shook his head, but Venatrix nudged the container closer to his face, insistent. He flipped open the flask. A cloud of steam floated upwards, along with the aroma of freshly-cooked food, and in mere seconds, he'd gulped down whatever soup or stew had been inside. As Percy lowered the container, he finally noticed the attention his gift had drawn. "Sorry," he muttered at the empty flask, the realization that he'd broken the precedent for sharing.
"Don't be," Venatrix said. "You deserve it."
He didn't look up, though the bouncing in his knee picked up in earnest. Shit. She squeezed his shoulder in silent apology, and he sent her a fleeting look.
Breakfast passed quickly around the Careers when Grethel finished cooking the leftover stew; Venatrix turned her portion down, holding up the ration bar and a curt smile in explanation. Despite the hostility of the wind, Shannon and Viper brought up the topic of the few remaining outliers and hypotheses on where they might be taking shelter from the storm. If they even managed to make it through the night, Venatrix thought scathingly. Would make our job easier.
Though, with every outlier that died, the pack was that much closer to imploding.
It's time, she knew.
Venatrix cast a sideways glance at Mariposa, then at Percy, neither of whom offered up any thoughts on the subject. Her district partner seemed to rub sub-consciously at his arm while he watched them converse, and Venatrix gently nudged him. "What's up?"
"Hm?" Percy looked down when she nodded at his elbow. "Oh, it's just a bit sore, I guess."
"Did you get hit by the—by the mutt?"
Percy blinked at her. "No. I didn't."
The expression in his eyes was guarded; he rolled out his shoulder, flexing the arm, and it wasn't until then that Venatrix remembered the last time his draw arm had been substantially injured. A flood of guilt washed over her. "Oh."
"It's fine."
Venatrix doubted it was, and that only made the feeling worse. None of their comrades seemed to notice the interaction, still debating whether the Seven boy and the District Ten pair were still allied together. "It's safer to assume they are," Shannon was saying. "It would be a mistake to underestimate them."
"Then where the fuck are they?" Patience shot back, to which the Three boy had no answer.
Obviously not. If we knew where they were, they'd be dead. Venatrix lifted her head, sensing an opportunity. "Let's find them, then."
Incredulous stares met her words. "Did you see the weather?" Viper sneered. "They don't want us finding shit."
"You're not sending me out there," Patience snipped.
First you don't want to watch the camp, now you don't want to leave… But Venatrix only shrugged. "Percy and I have experience hunting in this type of weather," she said, thinking back to Coquina's disappearance during last winter's Mock Games. Percy shot her a look. Alright, that's a bit of a stretch. "We didn't really secure the area before we set up camp last night either," she added. "Might be mutts on this side of the river too."
Viper's narrowed eyes squinted at her from beneath his hood, his weathered face paint. "Why are you so eager to explore?"
Halfway to standing, Venatrix let her fingers brush against the hilt of her sword. Always so damn suspicious, she thought, though the longer she hesitated in her response, the more pointed his stare, the faster her heart beat in her chest. "Just a little antsy after yesterday," she said finally, shifting her weight onto her toes to stretch out her calves, her quads.
In the crackle of the fire, the whistling wind and rustling trees, Venatrix almost missed the tremor of the ground beneath her feet.
She stiffened; it could've all been in her head if the others didn't bolt upright too. "The arena's shifting," Mariposa murmured warily, her hands drifting to her weapons as well.
"No shit," Patience snapped.
The One girl ignored her. "I'm coming with you. It's rough out there."
"Be my guest," Viper said scathingly.
"Shannon and I can collect more firewood," Grethel offered, and her district partner nodded in agreement. "We'll stick close by."
From where he sat around the fire, Idris tugged his cloak tighter around himself. "If it's all the same, I'm gonna sit this one out. Shoulder's kinda killing me."
Venatrix nodded. She hadn't expected anything more from him. Viper and Patience didn't bother speaking up; they'd already said their piece, though the Four girl glared daggers when Venatrix began packing extra supplies into her pack. "In case we get lost out in the storm," she said with a shrug, and Patience's jaw tightened in an irritated huff.
The lines are drawn, Venatrix thought as she took one last look at the pack, Percy and Mariposa at her sides. To cross them now would risk more than anyone was willing to give.
The pinch in Viper's brow said he suspected they might not return; same with the curt tone of the Three's parting words. A peaceful parting was far more generous than anything Venatrix had anticipated, but she'd take it all the same, not-so-subtle deception or not. We're three on five. Can't ask for much better.
Light movement across the campground made Venatrix halt, though she relaxed when it stopped at Mariposa's feet. The One girl opened her arms, and Charcoal leapt right up. He crawled onto her shoulder, worming his way beneath the warmth of her hood.
Venatrix's smile didn't last long. A quick glance and a nod over her shoulder, and she set off towards the bloody treeline.
The temperature seemed to plummet immediately outside the protective circle of tents. Assholes, Venatrix thought with a glare to the sky, though she made no move to look back. In her peripheral, Percy and Mariposa trekked on, heads similarly bowed against the wind. It bit into her despite the tunic, the woolen sweater beneath, the thick outer cloak. The short stretch of land between the water and the trees offered no protection, and Venatrix huffed in a mild relief once they crossed beneath the heavy, swishing boughs, longing for her puffy down jacket from back home.
Frigid air ran through her nose and lungs, forcing her breath into sniffles. As they picked their way deeper through the forest, the bitter wind and prickling snow died down beneath the shadowy shelter of the trees. Even in the monotonous grey light, the deciduous leaves stood out like sore thumbs. Previously, Venatrix had barely taken note of them amidst their evergreen peers; now, their fallen leaves painted stark blood-splatters against the clumps of snow that had managed to slip through, against the dark leaf mulch and weathered trunks. Venatrix took stock of the red trees as they walked, the way they seemed to multiply the more she looked.
Her eyes stayed peeled for movement too; tributes, critters, anything that wasn't themselves or the wind.
After a solid few minutes of walking, Mariposa slowed. "Vee, I can't feel my toes," she whined.
"Gotta keep moving, otherwise they'll fall off," Venatrix clipped, a touch of humor curling her lips when she glanced back at the One girl. The cat's black-and-white head poked out from beneath her hair, and she shifted her shoulders under its weight.
"That's not true," she protested stubbornly.
"Here, I've got extra socks in my bag," Percy said before Venatrix could insist on her correctness. He dug through his pack, offering Mariposa the pair of thick socks that his mentor had sent him way back when.
Mariposa's eyes widened at the gesture. She murmured her thanks, and they waited while she leaned against the trunk of a tree to slip them on beneath her shoes.
"That was kind of you," Venatrix said quietly. Percy shrugged uneasily, dismissive of the implicit warning in her tone.
Kindness has no place here, or so she'd learned.
Often, though, it did.
A gust of wind whipped up the flyaways around Venatrix's face beneath her hood. It shivered through the trees, a low, keening wail that set her hair on end. Mariposa set down her last boot, straightening.
The howl came again, and Venatrix knew it wasn't the wind.
Something like ice flooded her veins. The wind died down, but the wail sang through the trees, clear and ringing and closer. It wasn't until Percy grabbed her hand that Venatrix realized it was shaking. No no no, not here—
Don't think, just run.
But she couldn't help it, the way her legs shook in her boots as they plowed through the withered underbrush. Her friends carved adjacent paths, but Venatrix barely registered them as another howl ripped through the air and she gasped, choking, running, this can't—this can't be happening.
The barks and growls that swarmed her nightmares had never felt so vivid.
Earth sloped upwards beneath her soles, and Venatrix nearly stumbled. Her hand lashed out; she pushed off the nearest trunk, upward and desperate. They sent this for me, I know they did. Her feet scrabbled in the slippery mulch, and she couldn't hide the panic on her face when Percy looked over his shoulder, picking up the pace.
Raw breath scraped at her throat; the sound of it almost drowned out the ever-closing howling. "Percy!"
He glanced backwards again.
A wet warmth began to coat her cheeks, drawn out from the cold, just the cold. He slowed, grabbing for her hand, and with a sniffled grasp she lunged for it, for the illusion of safety it offered. Her legs burned as she forced herself to keep up with him. They barreled through the whipping thorns and dead ferns, on the heels of their lighter, faster ally until they caught up with her.
But they didn't— she'd skidded to a stop at the foot of a rigid wall of rock. Mariposa whipped around, unsheathing her swords.
Venatrix, though, she couldn't just stop. Percy let go of her hand to draw his bow, and she braced her arms in front of her to cushion the collision. She gasped at the impact; trembling hands reached for the hilt of her sword, but all she could do was press herself against the wall as the howls, the sharp, ear-splitting barks bore down on them.
I can't die like she did, I can't—I can't do this to the others, fuck—
She should be angry that they'd use this against her. Furious, even.
Instead, she was frozen.
The barking quieted, replaced by a heavy snuffling, a dark shape between the trees. Percy's bowstring stretched tighter in anticipation. Her own fingers slipped around the hilt of her sword, shaking, shaking, shaking. Draw your weapon, goddammit! If you're gonna die like Bell, you damn well better die fighting! It took everything to clench her hands in a trembling fist; even more to pull her sword free. 'Atta girl, Trixie, she could hear her father saying.
It had never felt so heavy.
But wield it, she must— through a gap in the trees, a mass of dark fur leapt into the clearing, all snapping jaws and blazing eyes; far, far larger than any canine had a right to be. Thick fur fluffed in aggression, the wolf threw back its head and howled. Venatrix recoiled; Percy's bow snapped. The sound turned to vicious snarl as an arrow sailed over the mutt's head, straight through one pointed ear.
The archer cursed. He never misses, Venatrix thought, dread congealing in her gut.
A growl rumbled deep within the beast's chest, and the blade trembled in Venatrix's grip. Percy didn't have time to shake out his arm and reload before the mutt lunged. Its teeth snapped towards her, and Venatrix yelped. Three inches long and only just blocked by the sword in front of her face; they strained against it despite the blood now dripping from its jaws. Steam poured from its nostrils, its eyes— they're on fire. 'Makers… Nothing but malice filled their hellish depths as they locked on Venatrix, the target.
But it's just one. It's just one.
With a cry of effort, Venatrix shoved the sword from her face, straining against the weight of the beast. It drew back for another snap— Venatrix ducked, her body curled against the rock. Something tugged at her shoulders; she scrambled away, glancing back to see the wolf's huge jaws closed around her pack. It started to drag, and a squeal of shock tore from her throat as she skidded backwards.
Unexpectedly, the grip slackened, and she tumbled forwards onto her knees. Snatching up her sword, she whirled around; bared yellow teeth snapped at wisps of blonde hair before parting in an agonized wail. Mariposa danced out of the way, her katanas leaking blood onto the slick floor.
Another arrow whistled towards its head as the wolf lunged again; it struck the creature's shoulder, and another curse spilled from Percy's lips. His brow creased in frustration, strong enough to overpower the fear.
Clambering to unsteady feet, Venatrix raised her sword again. A sharp bark sent terror blazing through her veins, and she pressed herself backwards, praying the cameras didn't catch the whimper that slipped through her own teeth. Goddammit, you need to own this! The creature could bleed; dark liquid sizzled where its blood touched the ground, leaking more steam into the air. It can die, too.
Summoning her nerves, Venatrix tightened her grip on her sword. She poured all her fear, all her rage, into a single warcry, and charged.
Arrows flew towards the mutt from her left. They pierced its flesh, only enough to anger; her blade sailed towards its heart, unwavering.
The wolf moved faster. With a snarl, it reared up on its hind legs, a towering mass of teeth and black fur; her sword scraped air, and on the mutt's descent, it lashed out with a massive paw. White-hot fire ripped at her shoulder; Venatrix barely registered hitting the ground amidst the searing pain.
Dazed eyes flicked upward in time to catch yellowed teeth lunging for her throat, hot breath on her neck, acid boiling in her blood—
Venatrix couldn't tell where her howls ended and the wolf's began.
A/N: Plot twist, the werewolf au isn't actually an au /j
Also— happy 200k ! :D (for realsies.. dont listen to what the ffn count says, its Incorrect). Also, this was supposed to be Oberon's birthday chapter.. I managed to post it to ao3 on the 27th (ish) but I've been super busy these past few days and wasn't able to get it to ffn until now ;-; I also unforch haven't finished the next one yet for Iago's bday (30th) but. I'd rather have it be good quality than rushed (and I think you all will too lol). Gonna do my best with Nano to get a move on with it ! Good luck to everyone who's doing Nano this year also c:
- Nell