Night 3
Noemma can't bring herself to look down as the tribute trembles against the tree, hands up defensively over his face. They had stumbled upon him purely by coincidence, only spotting him after nearly passing him by completely. Noemma can barely recognize the District 12 boy, his face smeared in dirt that has been run through many times by tears. Though he had been asleep when they found him, the hollow contours of his face suggest he's been awake for days.
Florian looks up at the girls, but the one in front of him turns her head away the moment they make eye contact. He thinks about running, but his feet feel almost numb underneath him. Fear cuts through the fogginess pressing against his eyes, but for some reason he doesn't cry. There doesn't seem to be a point.
"Seriously?" One of the girls snaps and the one closest to Florian flinches at her tone. "What are you waiting for?"
Florian's eyes flash to the spear in the closer girl's grip, the tip of which is pointing only vaguely in his direction. Part of him knows they're going to kill him, and that same part of him almost doesn't care. He's seen enough, been through enough, in the last few days that Florian doesn't actually believe there is any part of him truly left. His entire body aches and his mind echoes with screams that all sound somehow like the same voice that he can't recognize. Florian doesn't want to be here anymore. He wants to give up because fighting to survive for this horrible existence seems futile and stupid.
Still, when the weapon stands up straighter and the girl looks away, Florian scrambles around the tree as quickly as his muscles dare take him. His head throbs with a migraine that he can't remember not having and his eyes burn from the stiff air, but none of that matters. Some part of Florian wants to survive and, no matter how hard he tries to tell himself to accept this, he continues to crawl across the roots as they pull at his tattered pants.
Noemma takes one step towards him before the tears spill down her cheeks. As terrified and defeated as he looked when they found him, he's still just trying to live. Noemma shakes her head, not sure whether she is telling Evi her decision or herself. She's not a murderer. That revelation both scares and comforts her.
"What are you waiting for?" Evi's voice stings, but it doesn't change her mind. Noemma doesn't want Evi to leave her, she desperately doesn't want to be alone, but this is simply something she cannot do. He's too fragile, too innocent, too alive. He's not trying to hurt them.
"No," Noemma chokes out, turning to Evi and dropping both hands to her sides.
Evi grabs the spear and yanks it from Noemma's hand, snarling as her ally refuses to even look her in the eye. The metal is still warm from Noemma's touch, and it feels almost comforting to finally hold it herself. Evi shoves Noemma to the ground, where she lands without so much of an ounce of a fight. Tears continue to stream down Noemma's cheeks as she looks up at Evi with shame.
"You're fucking useless," Evi spits, leaving her ally in the dirt as she chases after the tribute. He hasn't gotten very far and one swift kick to his side sends the boy sprawling into the dirt. Evi narrows her eyes at him and clumsily adjusts her grip on the spear.
It's either me or you, kid, Evi thinks to herself. And I will pick me every time.
Florian closes his eyes as the weapon is buried into his chest, biting his tongue hard enough to taste blood but it's still not enough to stifle his scream. His hands clamour for the weapon, trying to fight it away but it's as if all his strength has sunk into the soil around him. All he can do is grasp the metal tightly as he feels it burrow deeper into his flesh and blackness pulls at his vision.
Evi turns away as the tribute's head lulls back onto the dirt and she quickly pulls the weapon out. She swallows down the taste of vomit as it builds in the back of her throat, trying not to focus on the scent of metal that begins to build into the surrounding air. Evi begins to panic when she doesn't hear the cannon immediately. That should be enough, why isn't he dead yet?
She is unable to stop herself from gagging when she sees the trail of blood dripping from the end of her spear. Evi tells herself that she did it, that she proved that she has what it takes to win this, but she can't help the dizziness that swells in her temples.
I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. It was either me or him. I made the right choice.
Evi feels her shoulder relax when the sound of his cannon finally fills the arena around them. She looks behind her and immediately regrets it, more vomit surging up into her mouth before she can swallow it back down. Evi has seen corpses before, it's not an uncommon sight on winter mornings, but she's never seen so much blood.
Noemma is still on the ground when Evi mindlessly makes her way back. This is the moment Evi has been waiting for, when she finally has the upper hand and can leave her useless ally behind. Noemma glances up as Evi approaches, her face red and slick with tears. The rational part of Evi's brain says to keep going- to kill Noemma now while she has the chance, to choose herself again like she is supposed to.
"I'm sorry," Noemma whispers. It's difficult to even look at Evi right now but Noemma knows that she let her ally down. She promised her this morning that she would play the game, something she never believed in the first place, and now she's broken that promise. It's hard to know whether this shame is the cause of her tears, or the scream still echoing in her mind.
"Let's just go," Evi says, tightening her fingers around the handle. She still has time to choose herself; it doesn't have to be right now. When the time comes, Evi knows that she is capable of making the right decision. Maybe when the spear doesn't feel quite so heavy.
Sadira glances up as the anthem begins again, signalling the end of another day in the arena. She thinks it's been three days now, but it's hard even at this point to be sure. Sadira has been trying to remember the anthems, and some of the faces that marked the sky during each one, to separate the days. The first night was Rion, the second was Capri. If Sadira can keep this straight, maybe she won't feel quite so lost as the days keep creeping past.
Still, the odds of them missing an anthem are not zero; they've each fallen asleep on their share of watches. It's strange to believe that she doesn't know what day it is, but the unwavering darkness tells Sadira that might very well be true.
There are four faces that flash through the sky tonight. All of them are vaguely familiar but, as long as she doesn't think too hard about them, no tears rush to greet her eyes. The same cannot be said about Erdan, whose sniffling has become almost as constant as the stoic moon above them. Two days, two close calls that just keep getting closer, yet somehow still two of them still alive. How long is Sadira supposed to believe that they can keep this up?
"Do you know them?" Sadira asks, attempting to pull herself away from the spiralling thoughts.
Erdan shakes his head so softly that Sadira isn't even certain that she saw the movement. She waits a few moments more, but he doesn't say anything else. It's strange not to hear his voice; usually he'd be eager to talk to her at even the hint of an offer of conversation. Since this morning, however, he's hardly said a word.
"Are you alright?" Sadira whispers. "You've been quiet."
At first, she isn't certain he's going to answer, but eventually he locks eyes with her. Even in the dimness between them, Sadira can see the glossy look of tears swelling up in his eyes. It's too difficult not to look away.
"No."
This time it's Sadira's turn to be silent. She wasn't expecting that answer, even if she knows that it's probably true. Sadira isn't used to honesty in these situations and it makes it even harder to look at Erdan. Still, she wants to help; she just doesn't know how.
"I don't know how to help," Sadira admits, her voice dropping as the words fall out.
Erdan looks at the ground for a moment. The way that his arms wrap so easily around his knees makes him look even smaller than he is. When they met in training, Sadira never would have expected Erdan to end up like this. The tears from the station, when he told them about his district partner, didn't pale his skin or empty his voice like they do right now.
"Distract me," he says finally.
Sadira is taken aback by the request, but within seconds she understands. It's the same reason she started this conversation, even if she has grown to regret ever bringing this up- to stop herself from thinking. If you can stop thinking about something, it will stop hurting you. This might not be exactly true, but it's all either of them have to hold onto right now. It seems like both of them have been doing a lot of thinking today.
She tells him about the day, a week or so before the Reaping, when she got detention for the wet towel incident. Sadira cracks a smile when she describes the look on her teacher's face, and Erdan doesn't take his eyes off her the entire time. She ends the story before she makes it home, not exactly prepared to talk about her mother's reaction to the whole thing. Even just the thought of her mother makes Sadira's throat dry up and she's glad she can stop talking.
Erdan chuckles quietly to himself and Sadira shoots him a questioning look. "Sorry."
"It's fine," Sadira says, offering a small smile. "It was supposed to be funny."
"Oh, it's not that," he shrugs. "I just didn't really think about you having an actual life before all of this. Kind of stupid, huh?"
Sadira shakes her head. She never even wondered about Erdan's life before right now. He's from another district but it might as well be another planet for all she can tell. It seems obvious that he had a life before the Hunger Games, just like she did, but Sadira realizes that she knows nothing about it.
"What were you like in school?" Sadira asks without really meaning to.
Erdan cracks a smile so wide that she can't even imagine the tears from earlier. "About a hundred times cooler with about fifty times less dirt on my face."
It feels like all the oxygen has been sucked from the air as the familiar howl reaches Chiara's ears. She looks around, noticing only now that the fog has faded to the thin strings from the first night. It feels like she is going to fall over as every inch of skin on her body begins to tremble, and she cannot stop herself from grabbing hold of a nearby tree.
Chiara whimpers as another wave of dread washes over her. The trunk she is holding tight to is not the scraggly ones she could easily wrap her arms around. It's all coming back, and they're in danger.
"What was that?" Doran asks, looking to the sky as if that might be where the sound has come from. He remembers hearing it the past two nights, but it's never been this loud.
"Up," Chiara says quickly, already pulling herself up into the tree branches.
"What?" Doran asks, eyes scanning their surroundings but nothing looks out of place to him. The gentle wind rustles the branches over their head, the moon is still perfectly centered in the sky, and the ground feels solid under his feet. What is she doing?
"Trust me," Chiara chokes out, casting her eyes downward so that Doran will not be able to see the tears gathering within them. She swings her legs up onto the branch but decides to go higher; as high as she can. As far away from what is about to happen as she can get.
"I don't understand," Doran says, his hand grazing over the tree bark as he watches Chiara climb.
"Trust me!" She snaps and Doran gets a look at the terror coating her eyes. He scans behind him, again seeing nothing, but decides that there is no harm in following her. Doran has never seen Chiara like this and, despite the fact that he isn't sure he has a reason to, he chooses to do what she said.
Doran struggles to pull himself up beside her, dropping back down to the ground twice before he realizes he'll have to jump. By the time he gets onto the first branch, Chiara is already up on the third. Doran looks down and shivers, hating the feeling of being so far off the ground. He swallows thickly and reaches for the next branch, fortunately finding that it's not as far away as he thought.
"What did you see?" Doran asks as he struggles up to her level. He feels sick at the thought of looking down, but almost sicker remembering how afraid Chiara was on the ground. Doran is no stranger to being scared, he's spent a good portion of his life with the feeling, but Chiara doesn't seem like the type. Something spooked her and Doran is not entirely sure that he wants to know what it was.
Chiara doesn't want to tell him. All the feelings from the first night in the arena come flooding back and clenching her teeth together is just about the only thing she can do to keep the floodgates closed. Thankfully, she doesn't have to. Chiara trembles against the tree branch, her breath held tight in her chest, as the creatures scamper beneath them.
Doran's knuckles quickly go white as his grip tightens in an attempt to keep himself still. Even from above, he knows that these must be what Chiara was thinking about. They're enormous, easily longer than either of them and covered in a coat of thick fur that camouflages them in the shadows. Their cries are sharp and playful as they pass, but that doesn't stop the chill that runs up the length of his spine.
One of the creatures stops at the base of their tree and glances upward as if telling the pair that they are not hidden. A tear spills down Chiara's cheek, but she refuses to let anyone else see it. Doran turns to her, eyes wider than Chiara has ever seen on a person, and she can only nod. It no longer matters who Doran is, or who he is not. For another night they're going to be stuck together and Chiara feels too overwhelmed to care. Is this better than being trapped up here alone?
"How did you know?" Doran whispers.
"First night," Chiara manages to choke out, turning her head so that she is no longer looking at him.
"What do we do?" He asks.
Chiara squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. There is nothing they can do except pray that the animals haven't learned how to climb. First this morning and now again tonight; there truly is no resting for them in the arena. Not until they're dead at least, and it looks like that could be coming up very soon.
None of them pay much attention when they hear the sharp sound cut through the arena. Aristona and Delias met up with their other alliance members a couple hours ago, and it made sense just to keep going together until they got tired. Aristona tells herself that she is unbothered by the fact that the others found another tribute while all she and Delias found today was a herd of fat mice. After all, a tribute dead by any of their hands means that things are beginning to go right again.
Aristona's thoughts return once again to her conversation with Delias. They haven't spoken since and can't help but wonder if she could have said something differently. She doesn't regret it though, because how could she? Aristona is playing by all the rules she has memorized since she began training. It's not her fault that Delias doesn't understand this the same way that she does. This isn't some playground tournament where everyone will go home at the end of the day. War is not fair; Aristona cannot afford to be fair either. That's just the way things have to be right now.
Delias swivels his head around as he hears the approaching footsteps, his breath stopping at the top of his throat. There are so many of them that he is unable to distinguish one step from the others, and they're heavier yet faster than any he has hear thus far. It only takes a moment before the yipping cries also reach his ears and Delias realizes that what he is hearing is not another tribute group. His sword trembles slightly in his hand before he can tighten his grip. The fear that swirls across his skin is cold and unfamiliar, but some instinct buried deep inside Delias knows what to do.
The creatures crash through the trees around them, paying no mind to the branches slicing across their matted muzzles or the roots catching in their clawed feet. Jordan is the first to move, pushing his spear out in front of him in an effort to deter the beasts. The yelps turn to snarls and Jordan stumbles back a couple of steps, deciding almost immediately to change his strategy along with the rest of the alliance.
No one pays any attention to where the others head, they just take off as quickly as their boots can carry them. The pain shooting up Delias' leg becomes nothing more than a dull burn as he runs between the trees. The tip of his shoe catches a root but he pulls it loose as he runs, not caring about the crooked angle that his ankle takes or the slanted ground causing his steps to run even more uneven. Delias can hear the footsteps gaining on him, but he does not dare look back. One glance at their white, unnatural eyes was more than enough to tell him to keep going. He's never seen anything like them. Delias has never been the type to dream, but they look like something that could only have emerged from an artist's nightmare.
A weight crashes against his back and Delias cries out despite the fact that he is unable to actually feel any immediate pain. Delias rolls over so that he is facing the creature, kicking out with both legs in a move that definitely should have hurt his injured leg. He slices outward with his knife but the creature is far quicker, dodging each slash before Delias even has a chance to redirect.
He jumps to his feet as a second mutt emerges from between the trees, this one even larger than the one still circling him. Delias knows that he will not be able to take both of them, but he isn't certain that he will be able to outrun them either. He fakes an advance on the creatures, who recoil a couple of steps. Delias decides to take his chances at escape, something he never would have expected to have to do.
This time when the top of his boot catches on a root, Delias is unable to stop himself from catapulting forwards. His shoulder hits the ground first, followed quickly by his chin and the rest of his body. Delias chokes on dirt as he tries to push himself up from the ground, unwilling to wait for the creatures to catch up to him and finish him off. Delias hears the yipping from behind him and is unable to stop himself from looking back as one of them lets out a deafening howl.
The two muttations are stopped a few meters behind him, neither making a move forward as they pace the length between two thick trees. Delias shuffles backwards, still breathing in the soil that he has yet to clear from his mouth. The creatures don't follow, they only stare at him with white, empty eyes that cannot possibly be alive. Delias doesn't question it for another moment, pressing himself up to standing and rushing to put even more distance between them. He barely notices the fog as it thickens around him, swallowing the image of the two beasts as they watch him leave.
Jordan can feel the air burning his lungs when he finally turns around, his entire body tensed in preparation of what he knows he is going to see. The muttation is tireless, its footsteps crashing behind Jordan since he left the others. He knows that he won't be able to outrun this thing and that leaves him only one choice. Jordan tries to convince himself that he is not the prey here, but as the enormous creature leaps into the clearing mere feet from him it's hard to believe he could be anything else.
He ignores the fear bubbling in his throat and attacks first, thrusting his weapon out before the animal has a chance to stabilize. It lets out a snarl as the side of his spear hits its meaty neck, but Jordan can see that no damage has been done. He retreats a couple of steps as the creature pounces forward, trying to anticipate where it might strike next. Jordan had always tried to read the expression of his opponents, something that Venice said would tell him everything he needed to know.
The animal's eyes are blank. Jordan doesn't know what it could be thinking right now.
Another clumsy stab forward leaves Jordan no better off and the creature jumps at him, teeth bared and ready to sink into his skin. Jordan throws his spear up at the last moment and it catches in the animal's huge jaws. It thrashes its head back and forth until the spear is quite literally pulled out of his grip. The weapon is tossed like a dirty rag into a nearby tree, clattering to the ground as Jordan's eyes widen in fear.
His first instinct is to run again, but his chest still heaves from the earlier sprint. Instead, Jordan lunges for the weapon but is quickly cut off by the muttation, who stares silently at him for a second before it barrels at him once again. With no other option, Jordan throws himself to the side, catching a hit from the animal's shoulder while still somehow staying upright. He runs for the weapon and relief rushes over him the moment his fingers touch metal.
The air is knocked out of his lungs as the creature lands on top of him, claws biting into the skin of his shoulders and forcing a cry from his throat. Jordan thrashes underneath it, managing to roll onto his side before its teeth can reach his throat. He sees a flicker of movement behind the animal and another wave of dread creeps across his skin. Jordan is no longer certain he can handle one of these things, if there are more he might as well give up now.
The muttation cries out and Jordan opens his eyes quickly, barely registering that he had closed them in the first place. He throws his hands up as blood splatters his face and weight collapses down on him. The scent of wet fur assaults his nose, quickly followed by the pungent smell of iron. Jordan scans his body, looking for the wound that could produce this much blood.
"Get up."
Aristona's chest heaves as she pulls her sword from the muttation's fur, wincing at the effort it takes to do so. She scans the trees around her but can see no sign of her other allies or the muttations that must have followed them. Every fiber of her body wants to sit down on the dirt and sleep, but Aristona resists that urge. She is well aware of the feeling of blood sliding down her skin. Until she knows how bad the injury is and dresses it, Aristona knows that she can't risk sleep.
"What are these things?" Jordan asks, sliding his battered body out from under the dead muttation. Its eyes are still open, but that's not even close to the creepiest thing about the beast. Its blood feels like tar as Jordan attempts to wipe it from his face. The smell is even worse.
Aristona just shakes her head in answer, still finding it almost impossible to catch her breath. The mutts are like nothing Aristona has ever seen, either in reality or in past Hunger Games. There must have been at least five of them when they ambushed her alliance. Now, at least, there are two less of them roaming the arena.
"Thanks," Jordan says reluctantly with a nod down to the creature. She deserves the thanks, but he isn't sure he wants to give it. Jordan should have been able to handle this alone. He stoops down to pick up his spear and becomes acutely aware of the pain that permeates every part of his body. His legs burn from running, his arms throb from fighting, and there is a distinct stinging pain over both shoulders where Jordan swears he can still feel the muttation's claws digging in.
"Dressings?" Aristona asks through deep breaths, bringing her hand shakily to the front of her body so that Jordan can see. Every inch of flesh from her wrist down is covered in blood, not the black tarry kind from the muttation but the thin crimson type Jordan is more used to seeing. Even still, he can see that not everything is where it should be; she's missing at least three fingers and a healthy chunk of her palm.
Jordan nods, reaching into his pockets and pulling out half a stack of gauze pads. It doesn't look like nearly enough but Aristona grabs them and presses them against the remains of her hand. She sways on her feet and Jordan reaches out to help her sit down. The dressings are already soaked in red.
"It's not my dominant," Aristona whispers, her face even paler as she painfully grips her injury.
Jordan nods, but that's of little issue right now. The wound is mangled, blood gushing out of every tear in the flesh. Never mind that there's more blood spilling down her upper arm from what appears to be another bite. There's no point in wasting his other stack of gauze, it's not going to work. A small voice inside Jordan's head wonders if he should even try to do something for her. Aristona's a threat, and from the way she was able to kill the mutt even with an injury like this tells Jordan he might need to be strategic about this.
Still, she's an ally right now and, judging by the quiet settling in around them, maybe his only one. There are still too many tributes left to be out here alone.
"Belt," Jordan orders, putting out his hand expectantly. Aristona's lips open slightly, the expression telling Jordan that she knows exactly what he is suggesting. There's only one way to stop this bleeding right now, and it's not going to be pleasant.
Aristona peels her belt off and hands it to Jordan, turning her head so that she doesn't have to see it happening. She bites down on the sleeve of her jacket, telling herself that he's right even though she doesn't want to believe it. As Jordan maneuvers the belt around her forearm and twists it tight with the help of a sturdy stick, it takes everything in her not to scream.
I can still do this. I can still do this. I can still do this.
The words repeat in her mind as the pinching feeling settles against her skin and the area below the belt begins to tingle into numbness. They made a mistake; they ran when they should have stayed together and fought like the tributes they are supposed to be. Now, Aristona has no other choice but to pay the price and accept that, in just a few minutes, almost everything has changed.
"Come on," Sinead whispers, quickening her pace after a fast glance back at Jory. Things have been just as icy between them lately, but Sinead is trying her best not to snap the icicles between them. As much as she wants to bring back the comfort of the Capitol, Sinead also isn't ready to forgive Jory just yet. Especially when he doesn't appear to really want it.
"Why?" Jory asks.
Sinead turns back to him with a questioning look. "Didn't you hear that?"
Jory shrugs, it would have been impossible to miss the drawn-out cry, but he isn't exactly worried. He can remember hearing something very similar at least twice before and it turned out to be nothing. It's not that he doesn't believe there are things out here trying to kill them, of course he does. It's simply that Jory doesn't see a need in expending so much energy over what's likely to be another false alarm.
"It's probably fine," Jory says softly.
He watches Sinead scan across their surroundings, but not even a branch seems to move around them. Jory can understand that she's worried; the arena seems hell-bent on shoving them all into paranoia with the bodiless growls and thick fog. He wonders if he's the strange one for not being worried.
It's hard to care what's happening around him. Jory has always had such careful control over his life, from deciding to train as a Peacekeeper to choosing his security shifts. If something wasn't going well with his training, if one of the maneuvers proved too hard for his lack of flexibility, Jory would simply change it to suit him. Maybe it was his privilege that made him unstoppable, but the truth is that was exactly what Jory felt like he was- unstoppable.
Since the moment his name was called, that feeling has all but disappeared. Jory has been left with no control over even the simplest things, like what he could wear or who he could talk to. Everything was planned and perfected for him, not by him, and Jory hated it. At first, he was angry and wanted to fight back against it all, but that was never going to get him anywhere. Then, Jory was determined to get himself through it all while trying desperately to cling to the stubborn trainee he had always been.
Now, he just feels numb. It doesn't matter what he chooses or what he does, because Jory's come to realize that there are no good decisions in this place.
Sinead grabs Jory's wrist as she begins to hear what sounds like a not-so-faraway rustling. Jory pulls his arm from her grasp almost immediately, glaring at her like she'd hit him. Sinead can feel her heart crawling up into her throat as tears begin to well up in her eyes, but she isn't able to get the words out. All she can do is point and hope that Jory understands as Sinead takes off as fast as she can in the opposite direction.
Jory hears something burst through the trees and turns just in time to dodge the mound of greasy fur that comes flying towards him. He scrambles for the handle of his weapon but is unable to take his eyes off the creature as it zeroes in on him. Its stark white eyes point in his direction, but Jory can't help but feel that they can't truly be looking at him.
He finally manages to grip the machete's handle, but his palms are slick with sweat as he tries to pull it free of his belt. His immediate instinct is to attack, but where? How? The neck should be most vulnerable, but the animal's neck is easily as thick as his thigh and probably a dozen times stronger. Jory's feet are frozen in uncertainty even as he screams at himself to decide.
Jory can't distinguish the words, but he knows that the call he hears came from Sinead. The muttation swivels its head and Jory takes the opportunity to rush forward before he can think to stop himself. The machete slices into the side of the creature's neck, but the force behind it isn't nearly enough to kill. Blood gushes down to his hand and the animal turns back to Jory with a snarl.
"Move!"
Even without Sinead's warning, Jory has already begun retreating. He slices wildly in front of him, trying to at least deter the animal from coming close but it hardly seems to care. Jory's back hits a tree and tears begin to build in his eyes as the scent of meaty breath surrounds his body. The animal bares its teeth in a confident smile, knowing that Jory has nowhere to go.
Sinead's legs tremble under her as she stops just shy of entering the clearing where Jory still remains. She doesn't know what to do to help him, or even if there is something she can do. She watches Jory stab forwards with the machete, but the creature swipes the weapon away with its massive paw like it is nothing more than a stray tissue. It clatters to the ground by her feet and Sinead automatically stoops to pick it up, knowing that they can't afford to lose it right now.
Teeth sink into Jory's shoulder and he thrashes wildly against the muttation to try and free himself. The scream that spirals through the air is so awful that Jory does not even register it as having come from his own lips. Blurriness bites at the edge of his vision, but Jory knows that if he passes out right now he's as good as dead. Jory places both hands on the muttation's head and pushes, but it doesn't even seem to notice.
Sinead gags as she watches blood seep between the animal's teeth, Jory's screams filling her ears like sharpened needles. She readjusts the weapon in her hand, telling herself that she can save him if she moves now but only half-believing it. Sinead manages just one step before she sees the creature reach up with an enormous paw and bring it down on the side of his head. Her mind screams at her to look away, but it's too late.
The animal pushes down on Jory's head with one paw and pulls at his shoulder with its teeth, pulling his horrific scream directly from the air. Sinead is unable to register the sight in front of her, the blood that splashes the bark behind Jory and the tearing sound that is quickly overtaken by cannon fire. Her eyes remain locked with Jory's until his body drops to the ground out of sight.
Moisture blurs Sinead's vision as she runs, her arms smacking into branches that she is unable to see coming. The taste of bile stings her mouth but she wills herself to keep going, not knowing whether the beast might come for her next. When she can't stand it any longer, Sinead collapses to her knees and vomits the pitiful contents of her stomach onto the twisted roots.
"Are you alright?"
Sinead doesn't recognize the voice, but she falls to the ground in a heap of sobs before she can think about potential danger. The sight of blood stains the back of her eyelids even as she tries not to think of what happened, what she failed to even try and prevent. Sinead can barely feel a hand on her shoulder, but she turns into the touch to soak up even the ounce of comfort that it provides.
Delias doesn't say anything more as the small tribute curls around herself, squeezing her shoulder gently as the top of her hair brushes against his knee.
Ashara is out of breath by the time she is crouching atop the thick tree branch, arms clutching the trunk tightly to keep herself from falling. The dog-like creature stares up at her, its unnatural white eyes mirroring the moon overhead. She can still feel the adrenaline pumping in her heart from the chase, the fear at this awful thing being the one to take her out.
She has never felt so helpless in her life.
As she watches the creature circle the tree, its teeth bared as it yips into the dark surroundings, Ashara can feel the fear wash over her once again. If this thing doesn't leave, she could be stuck up here all night or even longer. She glares down at the animal, hating it almost as much as she fears it. Another reminder that she isn't in control of herself anymore; that she's allowing other things to have a say in her life when that's never even been an option before.
Ashara thinks back to the grief she felt upon finding Romello dead by the Cornucopia. She thinks about the uncertainty of being in the volunteer alliance and how small she let the others make her feel because Ashara could tell that they knew she didn't belong. The discomfort from earlier today, watching Jordan kill that boy, bleeds into her body once again. Even Asher and the hopelessness she felt while watching him die resurges. Then, over each of these feelings is the fear. The fear of this stupid animal that Ashara knows she will never be able to push out of her nightmares.
She pulls two of her larger knives out of her belt and drops down with blades already pointed at the beast. She lands on top of it, sinking both weapons up to their handles in its mangy coat. The muttation snarls, thrashing its head back and forth to try and get a hold of her. Ashara lands on her back beside the animal, but she doesn't allow herself even a moment to catch her breath.
This might be the stupidest thing she's ever done, but Ashara knows that she will not sleep again if she knows that this thing is still out there.
Blood gushes out of both wounds, but the creature does not slow down. Ashara runs at its side, landing the tip of her boot in its abdomen and plunging both knives again into its neck. Rather than pull them out cleanly, Ashara uses all of her strength to slice them through its flesh. The animal's cry is horrific, but Ashara hardly notices until it begins to disappear.
As the muttation drops to the ground, Ashara finally allows herself to gather her composure. A voice in the back of her mind says to look for her alliance, but she chooses to ignore it. She isn't going to get out of this place by allowing other people to control her emotions. She made herself a promise not to be someone else's runner up, and there's no better time like the present to start making that true.
Levi's foot slides on another mossy rock and he winces as he hits his knee for what must be the tenth time. He isn't sure why he is still even trying to climb this thing when it so clearly isn't meant to be climbed. Perhaps that's exactly the reason he's still going.
Levi hasn't stopped to rest in what could be hours or even days, it's hard to tell. The anthem came and went, but Levi couldn't even bring himself to look at the fallen. The two faces that matter to him right now are burned into his memory. The district partner and the girl he killed. Seeing them in the sky isn't going to change the fact that they're dead. Nothing will.
Every second of grief for Verdana is cut by what feels like hours of anger. Levi can't even list out everyone that he's angry at, there are simply too many to count. By the time he passes a single stretch of trees, he's blamed Verdana for leaving him, cursed the District 10 girl for killing her, and hated himself for not doing anything to save either one. In the back of Levi's mind, however, is the never-ending hatred of the people who brought them here in the first place. The anger at the Capitol feels like it's going to burn him alive from the inside, and Levi is beginning to think that may actually be preferable at this point.
Levi drops again to his knees and swears loudly at the fresh bruises forming on both legs. This entire expenditure is completely idiotic and Levi is finally starting to realize this. He can't even see what's up there because of the fog. He's probably wasting his time. No, he's definitely wasting his time.
He looks down at where he climbed up from and covers his face in frustration. Levi doesn't even know how far up this thing goes; it could be a dead end for all he knows.
This isn't going to bring them back either, Levi tells himself and buries his face even deeper in his hands in response.
Levi pushes himself back to his feet and continues up the hill, nearly tripping when the ground suddenly flattens. The fog is so thick up here that it looks like cobwebs surrounding him, though when he reaches out it avoids his fingertips. Part of Levi knows that he should be afraid right now, but that's the furthest thing from his mind.
I just need an opportunity, Levi thinks though even he isn't certain what that means. He doesn't want to walk around this arena waiting to die. That's basically what he did back in District 7 and look where it got him. No, there has to be something, even in a place like this. Levi just wants a chance.
Levi's nose smacks into something and he stumbles backwards a few steps before remembering the rocky fall waiting behind him. He rubs the disorientation from his eyes before he can see clearly in front of him again, or as clearly as the fog allows. Levi squints, but no matter how hard he tries there is nothing to see. He shakes his head again, but nothing changes.
What did I hit?
He cautiously puts one hand out in front of him and steps forward, waiting for something to come into focus but nothing does. His palm flattens against something but Levi can't see anything that could be stopping him. The tussled ground and scraggly trees continue ahead of him but as Levi tries to push against the invisible wall he finds that it's impossible to move.
Levi pauses with both hands against barricade when he begins to feel something brushing against his leg. All thoughts of the wall are forgotten as he scrambles back, wanting to scream but not daring to open his mouth.
14th: Florian de Avila-Coronel, District 12
13th: Jory Danton, District 9
A/N: And hello again! I'm finally starting to settle back into a school routine and get into writing again. This has to be one of the most action-oriented chapters I've written recently and I'm fairly happy with how everything turned out. As always, I apologize to the submitters that lost their tributes this chapter. It's only getting harder to kill these precious characters and we're only at the halfway point.
Final eight predictions (Still remaining: Ashara, Aristona, Delias, Erdan, Noemma, Jordan, Doran, Chiara, Levi, Evi, Sinead, & Sadira)?
I don't currently have a set schedule for when I will be updating, it will mainly depend on my weekly workload, but I'm going to be finishing even if updates do end up being a bit slow. Thanks to everyone still sticking around and especially to those of you reviewing, it really means a lot.
~ Olive