Author's Note
I do not own the Hunger Games.
She spent an hour struggling to get deep enough, and each time it felt like she was getting less and less depth instead of more.
After an hour, she returned to the shore to warm up a little and take a sip of water.
"What is it you think is down there anyway?" Bunny asked.
Luciente shook her head, gazed out to sea.
"Is it really this important?"
"I think it's the most important thing I've ever sensed."
There was a shimmer of blue from the corner of her eyes. She looked round, located the figure at the sea's edge.
"What's that meant to mean?" Blossom asked as she stood and headed towards the figure. Not Bethany- Bethany wore yellow. This one was in blue, taller, though not by much.
The boy from Four.
Luciente stopped, looked at him. He looked back, smiled slightly. He was pretty looking, still, even with one of his eyes missing, leaving nothing but a gaping black hole. He pointed out into the grey water.
"I killed you," Luciente said.
The dead couldn't hurt her, but they could hold grudges.
The boy from Four continued to point, and then began to move out onto the water. His legs dissolved into it, his figure fading away as he vanished beneath the waves.
Luciente waded back out into the water.
The ghosts felt it too, whatever was out here. They were drawn to it, just like she was. She remembered running wild through the trees, laughing and covered in filth, the world alive around her, and then sucked in a deep breath and dove back into the water.
Hyperion was sure they had to be going in circles, some trick of the Gamemakers. Four couldn't possibly have run this far to the stream in her condition, not unless the boy from Twelve had moved after her escape.
Maybe he had, because Four stopped in a narrow clearing in the dense trees and looked about herself. There was blood splattered on the ground and across some of the trees, branches snapped away, and deep gouges in the wood. At the base of one tree was a heap of filthy, bloodstained fabric that might once have been blue. Her arena uniform, though not much use now. It was torn beyond repair, the front of the top torn open and the trousers sliced into several separate pieces.
"Well, he was here," Azrayk said.
Shelley folded her arms across her chest. "You know, he sounds like exactly the kind of tribute I don't want to meet right now. Maybe this is a sign we shouldn't do this."
Luciente.
"You two can do what you want," Hyperion grunted, glancing around through the trees. There was no sign of the creep, or of the girl from One.
"But I am going to find that boy, and then I am going to kill him."
And then I am going to kill Four, he didn't add.
Azrayk huffed. "You have us acting like Careers on the say so of some Career."
"So not a Career," muttered the girl from Four, but Shelley and Azrayk didn't seem to hear her.
"Then leave."
They stayed.
Of course they did.
Cowards.
They only stayed with him because he was one of the stronger tributes, because he had killed, because he was a wall to hide behind. As soon as they thought they had a chance on their own they would stab him in the back – or try.
They were just like the prisoners back home. Violent, treacherous, desperate to survive no matter what it took.
He had something they didn't.
He had Luciente.
They continued through the woods, Azrayk and Shelley silent and sullen, Four with fake confidence. It felt like he was getting further away from her with every step, and yet this was necessary.
He had to keep her safe. Azrayk stopped, squinted into the woods. Shelley froze at his side. Frightened rabbits. Four, who was now wearing the butchered remains of her arena uniform over her sponsored underwear, squinted into the darkness. "What?"
"I saw something move."
Hyperion took a step back and gazed between the trees. At first he could see nothing – and then he caught a flash, a flicker of movement amongst the tree trunks. Too small for a human, not another tribute. An animal?
He caught the movement again, nearer this time. "It's an animal."
But if it was, why would it move towards them?
He shifted his grip on the spear.
"Or a mutt," muttered Four, echoing his thoughts aloud.
The Gamemakers seemed to prefer drama coming from the tributes, but mutts were a favourite and included in most arenas. There had been all kinds, from ordinary looking dogs and cats that morphed into tentacle-mouthed monsters, giant bears, rats and deer, birds that dropped tributes from a great height and statues that came to life.
They were never predictable.
There was a soft clicking as it emerged from the trees, frighteningly fast. A spider, as big as his torso, with long, spindly legs and sharp pincers.
Shelley screamed, leaping away into the trees – and the spider leapt towards the sound.
It landed on her chest, covering her face, clicking and hissing. Strands of web began to spew around it. Shelley screamed again, struggling to shove it off, and it held tight, driving its pincers into her shoulders.
"Do something!" Azrayk shouted.
Let it kill her or let her live?
If he let it kill her it was one less opponent – but possibly one more enemy since Azrayk might turn on him.
Hyperion jerked the spear upwards and drove it into the spider's abdomen.
It slid in a short way, but the skin was thick, far thicker than it should be. He ripped it out, the tip dripping with green blood, and drove it into what seemed to be the joint between its head and body. Shelley was jerking, slumping against the close knit trees. The spider twitched and thrashed, releasing its hold on her and letting out an unnatural screech.
Hyperion ripped the spear out again and drove it through one of the monstrosity's many eyes.
The spider twitched and shuddered, before finally falling still.
Shelley slumped to the ground, twitching and convulsing, her breathing rattling in her chest. There was blood gushing from her stomach too now, pooling around her and mixing with the green gunk from the spider. Azrayk dropped to his knees, ripping into the web tangled around her. It clung to her skin. "Fuck, help me!"
Hyperion hesitated.
"Help me!" he screamed again.
He drew the knife and knelt down, keeping a tight grip on his spear still. Carefully, he cut through some of the thick, sticky web strands.
Azrayk slapped at Shelley's face. She gulped in mouthfuls of air that rattled in her chest, choking in her throat.
"Come on come on come one!"
Hyperion shook his head. "She's gone."
"She's not; she's still with us."
Hyperion stood. "She's gone."
Shelley went limp against the tree.
"No no no no!"
Slowly, her eyes glazed over and she choked out a last breath.
A cannon fired.
Azrayk gasped, falling back on his heels. "Shelley…"
Four was now approaching the dead spider with some trepidation. She nudged it with her foot. It laid still. She knelt, wrapped her hands around one of its pincers and began to yank at it.
Azrayk glanced around them. "What if there are more of those things?"
"Then they'd have come by now. If there's more than one of them, mutts move in packs," grunted Four.
"That what they teach you at the academy Four?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
The pincer snapped off with a crack. She got to her feet, weighing it in her hand. Azrayk scowled, stood, and made a swipe for it. Four jerked it away.
"Give me that!"
"It's mine."
"Like hell you're wandering around us with a pointy weapon Career girl! Give me that!"
Four scowled and tightened her grip on the pincer. "Take the other one. It'll take a bit of snapping, but you could probably take someone's eye out. And there's no way I'm going anywhere near that monster without something sharp."
