Chapter Thirty-Nine, Anticlimactic

With only a brief knowledge of the water currents's emplacements in the arena, Artemis headed straight forward, hoping for the best. It was imperative for him to find water, not only to fill his empty bottle, but also to soothe his burn and make sure that it would not get infected. Blood poisoning was not a condition he truly wanted to suffer from for a second time.

Eventually, it became clear that the path the raven-haired boy had chosen had not been one of the easiest to go through, but to his defense, getting away from the fire and finding clear water had been placed higher in the priority list than the difficultly level of the route. Nevertheless, when branches were not slapping the young man's bare back, rocks were threatening his ankles with each step he took and the amount of magic in his system was drastically low, if not almost nonexistent.

Once he thought himself at a reasonable distance from his initial position, Artemis slowed down his pace. He was panting for breath; craving for oxygen. He was almost afraid to die on the spot due to his accelerated heart rate. Looking over his scratched shoulder – clearly, the tree branches had not been kind to him – Artemis saw a small column of smoke rising through the trees. Although it seemed to be relatively contained, there was still a great possibility that the fire might spread around the arena. Since he could not precisely determine the level of danger he might be in, Artemis returned to the task of finding the river.

It was not too long before he caught sight of it, moving through the arena's green landscape like a dark blue snake. The boy made his way to the riverbank. From where he stood, he could see a small bridge a little longer up the watercourse, but he made no case of it. Instead, he soaked the fabric of his lightly burned shirt in the river, to then carefully apply the cold piece of cloth on his burn. It stung rather badly, making Artemis clench his teeth, biting into his bottom lip not to let go of a pained gasp. With Caskar possibly sneaking around, he could not afford such a thing, not yet.

Once the boy was certain he would not get another infection, he began to go through the little supplies he had managed to save, realizing that he was now left with even less equipment than in the morning. He still had the first aid kit, the small knife from Acassie, the shirt that had originally been in his backpack, his jacket and one bed sheet. The bow and the arrows had probably faced their end in the hungry flame, just like the second blanket.

Artemis took a deep breath, wondering how he would now manage to get food. It had been difficult enough the first time he had tried and the boy did not exactly trust his hunting abilities with a knife. Of course, he could start to gather roots, but he was not exactly an expert in all the foreign vegetation of Panem; Silyah had been far more resourceful about that topic.

Suddenly, the boy's train of thought was stopped. He moved his mismatching eyes, carefully inspecting his surroundings. He was sure that he had heard something and the feeling of being watched had begun to creep up his spine. Artemis stopped breathing for a second, letting his ears go through the noises of the forest. Amongst all the natural sounds of the arena was a buzzing noise… A camera zooming on something…

Artemis's eyes narrowed as he retrieved a dry shirt and his arena jacket from his backpack. If there was a camera on him, which was extremely likely due to the number of tributes left, he was certainly not going to stay in front of it half naked. Not again. The teenager thus dressed himself, pulling the pieces of fabric over his pale and battered skin.

It was then that Artemis's stomach gave a low rumble. Feeling the discomfort caused by hunger, the raven-haired tribute from District 3 was left with no other choice but to try to find something edible. There had to be a way to do so without weapons or snares…

After half a minute of silent debate, Artemis left the riverbank, slowly moving into the forest as he secured his hand around his knife. He was sure that he would not have to use it, but it was better to be safe than sorry, especially in an environment where "sorry" was just another word for "dead."

A faint clatter then grabbed Artemis's attention. As slowly and as quietly as he could manage, the less-than-agile boy moved closer to the source of the sound, finding a small furry animal, a rabbit, eating from small plants on the ground just in front of him. The worn out boy got as close to the creature as he dared. The odds of him actually catching the animal were as good as his chances of getting back from the arena and go explore Panem, but that was not important at this point. Artemis pointed the knife towards the rabbit. This way of hunting still disgusted him; it seemed way too brutal. With a wince, he took one more step forward… Only to trip over a root, scaring the rabbit away.

"D'arvit," he spat as he got back to his knees.

A stinging feeling caused the teenager to bring a hand underneath his shirt, just over his burn. His skin was uncomfortably warm and dry underneath his fingertips.

Exhausted, Artemis let himself collapse on the ground, more than willing to take some rest despite the lack of food in his system. Looking over to his right, the boy sighed. Where the rabbit used to be was a patch of dandelion.

"Why is this taking so long?" Beetee's stomach was twisted up in a knot of stress, anticipation and worry. Normally, at this point, something was to happen and next thing people knew, there was a new victor in town.

"Is it only me, or is this getting more and more… Uncomfortable?" Oddly enough, Effie seemed to be feeling it too; the pressure was building up. The escort almost felt like a bottle of champaign ready to burst at any moment. "We have two tributes and a killer. I do not like this one bit." She raised her eyebrow, surprised with herself. Since when had she stopped enjoying a good old Hunger Game's finale?

Ilranor walked in the room, a drink in hand. "Still nothing?" she asked.

Both Beetee and Effie shook their heads. On the screen, Artemis was leaning against a tree, eating a salad of some sort.

"Well, he did find food after all," said Ilranor as she sat beside Effie.

"Oh, actually, you missed the best part a few minutes ago. He nearly started a forest fire while cooking and got shirtless for a little while." Xarone's humorless laugh clearly demonstrated that he was also feeling the tension.

On the screen, the image faded from one to another, now displaying Caskar. He was on the hunt once again, but this time, he was both lucid and prepared.

"Do you think that District 3 has an actual chance this year?" Claudius Templesmith's image filled the corner of the screen.

"Once again, I would not be able to bet on it, but I think there is a possibility of getting myself a new tie-fixer," joked Caesar who was in other corner.

"I don't get why they keep this thing going." Beetee felt like his brain was overheating. "It's almost as if…" The man quieted his thoughts. It was impossible. The Gamemakers could not do such a thing…

All of a sudden, Ilranor raised a new question. "What happened with Silyah?"

Despite the lack of sun, the dawn of a new morning rose in the arena. Grey clouds were filling up the whole sky and as much as the previous day had been warm, this new day was almost chilly.

Leaning against a stone by the riverbed, a rather pale-faced Ice Prince was slowly waking up. He had made the rock his shelter for the night and he had been able to get a bit of sleep while using his backpack as a pillow and his bed sheet to keep warm. Unfortunately, those two things had not been enough to prevent his muscles from aching when he got to his feet.

Carefully, the boy walked down to the water. After having washed his face with the cold water to rid himself of a slight case of morning drowsiness, the boy took the time to observe his reflection in the river. It might have been a trick from the water current, but Artemis noticed that his cheeks seemed to be hollower; he must have lost some weight since the Games had started. His skin was so pale that he looked ill; in the reflection he observed, it even had a faint shade of grey. The boy's raven locks were framing his face, contributing to the impression of weight lost. Added to all this, he had no more magic. There might have been one spark left somewhere in him, but it would certainly not lead Artemis through another life or death situation.

In fact, if the Games were not taken care of by the Gamemakers, there might not be any need for a final bloodbath and everybody would die on their own.

Dying. The word made its way through all the other thoughts that had been occupying Artemis's mind. What could actually happen if he died in Panem? Ever since the boy had settled on helping Silyah become this year's victor, the theories about the possible consequences of his death had kept on adding every time he would try to settle his mind to rest. Time paradoxes were really tricky at this point. Would Artemis simply disappear without anyone noticing, or would he cause something much more complex if he was to meet his end? The multiple hypotheses were far from being soothing. If Artemis was to put his faith into the worst theory he had come up with, his death in a time where he was not even meant to live could cause a series of accidents that would destroy everything he might have influenced since he left his time stream until the actual end of his life… That was if he had not completely ceased to exist in the 21st century. Either way, Artemis did not exactly feel like thinking about the most alarming scenarios his selfless action could lead to.

A loud noise suddenly shook Artemis from his thoughts. At first the young man had been scared by the prospect of it being a cannon, but it was not… The boy searched the horizon with his sharp blue gaze as he began to pack up his few belongings. After a quick analysis, Artemis associated the sound with the one of a snapping tree branch and it had been more than enough to make him was to get away from where he was.

The boy thus began his walk, deciding to travel close to the river, as he judged it best to keep a water source close by. Feeling his legs ache every time he moved, the teenager rolled his eyes. He could not believe how much trouble he was giving himself for the sake of survival.

Even though Artemis knew that it was impossible, the river in the arena seemed endless to him. The boy had passed by the bridge he had seen earlier, not even thinking about crossing it. There was little point in trying to go back towards the Cornucopia and the meadow where Kalheb had died. No, there was no need to recall the nightmare-like images of the District 9 boy's end. Nevertheless, a new macabre thought had already crossed Artemis's mind. It had never occurred to him that people could have died on the same ground that was just underneath his feet, but now that it did, a shiver ran down his back. At least, the dark concept had the power to make him want to walk faster. The teenager thus kept on going, only stopping periodically to fill his water bottle and eat one or two dandelion leaves.

Just as thick pale grey clouds filled up the sky, Artemis passed by a second bridge. This one had suffered the consequences of the Games; the strong current hitting it from all sides had caused it to start breaking down. Even the bridges were suffering and it was not even hard to believe! That showed a lot about the Game's anticlimactic and imminent conclusion.

Rolling his eyes, Artemis let himself sink to the ground. His will to go on had been hindered by his physical abilities once again. Even if he had wanted to, his feet could not have carried him through another step. Sitting down, the boy eyed the area surrounding him, deciding to set his camp there for the rest of the day. It was not as if he had anything else to do anyway, not to mention that there would not be much setting up to do with the material he had.

The boy had just found a comfortable resting position when the feeling of being watched climbed up his spine again, making him turn around abruptly. There was no one around… Not even the buzzing sound from a camera… Yet the feeling would simply not go away.

Paranoia, thought Artemis. A common symptom when one is aware that his death might be close without actually being able to tell when it is going to strike. Even after having rationalized his fear, Artemis knew that he would not be able to stand the impression for much longer. Feeling far too exposed, the boy gathered the strength to get up. Exposed to what exactly? he wondered as he decided to move a bit farther in the forest. There were only two other people left in the arena; one who would never harm him and one that most certainly would.

May the odds be ever in your favor, thought Artemis, well aware that his odds depended on the emplacement of the other two tributes. If only he had known that information… It might have been easier for him to rest if he had known.

After having packed the little supplies he owned once again, Artemis ventured back into the woods. Slowly but surely, he walked and walked until darkness began to tint and take over the sky.

It was when the anthem of Panem began to play that the boy truly decided to stop and get some sleep. The chorus had not been accompanied by any face that night and it was very likely that the sky would never display another portrait again. Instead, two bodies and a victor would rise instead… And Artemis already knew that he would be classified amongst the bodies.

Not even bothering to hide his new camp, Artemis laid down and closed his eyes, hoping that nightmares would not get a hold of his mind tonight.