Chapter 46- Terra Coppersmith
The figures in the distance are fighting with the wind when the first cannon goes. I look at Fletcher and he looks back at me. A few minutes later, a second cannon, then a third. Three dead and it's barely dawn. Day 5 is kicking off to a great start.
"This is it," Fletcher says simply. "The end."
"Last day?" I ask, and he nods.
"Last day."
My heart thuds in my chest. Only one of us is getting out of this arena alive; I don't know what to do. Fletcher looks grim, all semblance of his cheery nature washed away. Snow keeps falling in my eyes, making me blink, and the temperature seems to keep dropping.
I keep my arrow nocked, waiting for the figures in the distance to come closer. My hands are cold now, though, and it's getting difficult to hold the bow. The tributes are coming, but the wind keeps pushing harder, making me almost fall on occasion as it whips around us. The cold cuts through me like a knife.
"Fletcher?" I ask, looking at my ally. He's serious, watching them come closer only to be blown backwards. The other tributes are close enough now that we can hear them laughing, ploughing through the snow that's grown deep in only a matter of minutes. I've never seen snow like this, and I know it can't be natural. Just an evil little trick of the Gamemakers'.
"It's the Careers," Fletcher says.
"How do you know?" I ask, straining my eyes to see.
"They're mostly all alive, as far as I can tell from the faces in the sky, and there's at least three tributes coming. Maybe more."
"So we fight them," I say, struggling to keep my stiff fingers on the bow. I have to keep pushing my hair out of my face as the wind whips it around, but it's a losing battle.
"They'll outnumber us," Fletcher says, and his mind seems to be whirring like a machine. I don't know what he's thinking, but I know he's making a plan.
"So what do we do? I can shoot them with my bow, and you can take them down with your knife. Work together," I say.
"You can't hit them with the arrows, not with the wind blowing the way it is," Fletcher says. His grip on his knife tightens.
"Then we'll take them down together in hand to hand combat. Two is better than one, isn't it?" They're almost here; the only thing preventing the Careers from being here right now is the wind that keeps blowing them back. We're running out of time.
"And then what, Terra? I don't want this to be between you and me," Fletcher says. "I won't kill you, you know that."
"And I'm not going to kill you, so what are we doing? We need a plan, and we need one now. They're almost here!" I say, my voice rising.
Fletcher's face grows still, then he seems to make a decision.
"Get up the mountain. I'll hold them off. Only one of us can win this thing, and I want it to be you," he says, and he's solemn and serious.
"What? No! I'm not going anywhere," I say.
"Only one of us can win; I want it to be you," Fletcher repeats, and a look at his face tells me he really is serious about it.
"Why don't we both go up the mountain?" I ask.
"They'll come after us then. They don't know who the cannons were, unless they killed the tributes themselves. They'll think you're dead, and it's just me here."
"I have to stay here, Fletcher! I can't just run," I say.
"I don't want you to fight them."
"Why not? Because I'm a girl?"
"Because I love you, that's why!" Fletcher says, and he grabs my shoulders. "They can't see six feet in front of them. If you climb fast and hide, they won't find you. Go. Please."
"I'm not going to leave you!" I say. Fletcher seizes my face and kisses me.
When he pulls away, he keeps holding my face in his hands, just looking at me. "Go. Hide. And win, Terra. Win for me. Okay?"
I want to say something else, to argue back to him, but he's firm. He's not going to change his mind. Instead, I nod, tears starting to pour down my face. He kisses me again, then pushes me towards the mountain. "I love you," he says, with that old cheeky grin.
"I love you too," I say, and then I climb, leaving Fletcher behind. What am I doing? Why am I not staying? I start to go back down, but within a few seconds, the storm grows so strong that I can't see Fletcher anymore, can't see the Careers who must be here now, and I just climb up and up, hands shaking, one hand on the bow, the other on the rocks. The stones are sharp and cut my hands, leaving bloodstains in the snow.
I'm cold, but I'm quick, and I scramble up the mountainside as quickly as I can, blinded by the snow and wind that keep attacking my face.
Finally, I tumble into a little cave tucked into the side of the mountain, sheltered from the storm, just as the cannon fires.
And all I can do is collapse into tears.