Chapter 48- Terra Coppersmith

The snow stops and light shines in the entrance of the crevice, just minutes after the cannon goes. Who was it this time? A Career? Someone else? I don't even know who else is left in the arena. All I know is that Fletcher is dead and I'm alone.

I'm such a coward! Why did I let him talk me into running while he stayed and died for me? And why did he die for me? We could have run together, or he could have left me and escaped. What was going on in his head?

I brush tears away and mentally curse myself. Is this how I want Panem to see me? How I want Deecey and Iry to see me? Weeping over a boy I barely knew? You didn't barely know him, Terra. You cared for him.

I loved him and see where that's gotten me?

I told him I would win, I told Iry and Deecey I would win. I think it's time to start fulfilling those promises. Gripping my bow in one hand, I pull myself out of the cave with the other. The air is cold and biting, but I don't care. I want revenge. And I don't care how many people have to die to satisfy that need.

Off in the distance, a hovercraft is sending down its claw, pulling a form out of the snow. It draws the tribute up, then disappears into thin air. May that hovercraft never come for me.

My hand hurts and drips blood from where I cut it while climbing. Another setback. I sit down and pull out the first aid kit from my pack, wrapping a white bandage around and around my left hand. Once it's secured, I take a drink from my water bottle. I need food; my hands are shaky and my legs aren't doing so well either. I was supposed to get food today, before all hell broke loose. Now I doubt there's anything to shoot.

I have to get going before I start to really starve to death. I'm not going to die in the near future, but the distant future looks a bit dodgy. I'm cold, my hands are stiff, and it's a miracle they aren't frostbitten. I'm not dressed for this weather.

I make my way down the mountain, following the smears of blood I left while climbing up here in the first place. I really didn't get very high up, did I? Maybe fifteen feet or so. It seemed farther when the snow was blowing so hard. Sharp stabs of pain shoot through my stomach, and I don't know whether hunger, grief, or guilt is the cause.

Fletcher's dead, and it's all my fault.

The pain grows worse when I get to the bottom of the mountain. All where our camp was, by the den I had dug, by the brush I had placed on top to conceal it, there is blood. Deep crimson blood staining the snow; even though it's snowed more since, I can still see where Fletcher died, where his lifeforce left him, where he bled out into the snow.

I clap my left hand to my mouth, fighting back the tears that threaten to overwhelm me. Stay strong, Terra! Show Panem that you're strong and you can be the victor. Struggling to control my emotions, I put on a blank face that I hope shows that I'm unaffected by Fletcher's death.

"I will be victor," I whisper, and in response, a parachute comes down from the sky. I catch it easily in one hand, pulling away the cloth to reveal a wrapped package. In it is a loaf of bread and a pair of gloves.

"My thanks to my sponsors," I say, looking up to the sky. My shaking fingers pull off chunks of bread and stuff them in my mouth as fast as they can.

What's the plan now? I'm wondering if it might be a better idea to stay here for the night and see what happens in the morning. Of course, it's barely mid morning now. Through the storm clouds I can see blue sky, which gives me hope for a better day tomorrow. Should I stay or should I go?

I squint to see the Cornucopia; there's figures fighting there. As long as there's more than one tribute fighting, I'm staying where I am. I keep my eyes averted from the blood in the snow, try to keep myself calm and numb, because this is the only way I'm going to survive the Games. I can break down later, but I can't afford to do it now.

I have water, I have food. I have gloves, which fit perfectly and are warm. I'll stay. Let them fight it out and later today or even tomorrow I'll go in and win. I need to get back to my sister. If I die, she'll be taken away from Deecey's family and put in the community home. And nothing good or happy happens there. My sister needs me, so I'll be strong and I'll win.

This arena has changed me. I remember how excited I felt in the Capitol, with my high-tech room and food whenever I wanted it. Laughing at Postumius. I was simply a girl, a sixteen-year old girl who learned to shoot a bow and arrow within a matter of days. So what am I now?

I feel older. I have the weight of two lives on my soul, and it presses me down until I feel I can't breathe. Most of all I feel numb, and not just from cold. I'm guessing that the pain will come later, if I manage to escape the arena.

A cannon fires and I look up. One less for me to worry about. I run my hands along the smooth surface of the bow. I'm looking forward to seeing the faces in the sky tonight; seeing who the cannons have been today. There's been a lot of deaths, almost as many as the day of the bloodbath. How many are left in the arena?

I'll watch the skies eagerly tonight, and figure out from there who I have to kill to escape.