Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: Here we are, the last Victor of the third decade of the Hunger Games. I'll admit, the initial idea came from how in canon Peeta once said the arena could be anything, possibly even a giant cake. Well, it made me wonder if an arena could possibly be edible and... well, yeah. Hope you all enjoy the madness I came up with here. :D
Katniss and Peeta looked at Paige's imprinted face upon the ground for a few moments. Katniss turned to Peeta, noticing he seemed to be thinking deeply.
"Something on your mind?" Katniss asked.
"Well, it's a strange thing. See, remember I once said how an arena could be a cake?" Peeta said, a humourless chuckle passing his lips.
"Yeah, I guess so? I figured you were just joking," Katniss replied.
"I was. But the thing is that there was an arena around this time, so they say, that was kind of edible," Peeta explained, slowly shaking his head in bewilderment. "I was just wondering if it was Paige's arena."
"I guess we can ask once we reach the party," Katniss said, looking down at Paige's face again. "Know anything about Paige?"
"Nothing besides the fact her family apparently were pretty well off and owned a big clothing brand within Eight," Peeta said. "I guess she must have been rich or something."
"She seems almost like she's starving," Katniss said, looking unsure. "Any idea why?"
"I've got nothing," Peeta said, giving a light shrug in response.
30th Annual Hunger Games
Name: Paige Murphy
Gender: Female
District: 8
Age: 16
Kills: 1
District Eight is known for the many, many factories that fill up the land within its borders and all the poor working conditions inside them. Few in Panem and a grand total of zero people within Eight could claim to have not even a small idea of how bad things can get at the best of times. The heat, the intense working speed, the machinery that would often break down or cause a grievous injury to a worker that would inevitably land them on a street where they'd sing for their supper.
One could go on for hours telling stories of factory work and what it's like to be among the lower, and even middle, classes of the textiles District of Panem. The cramped space, the terrible jobs, the endless factory accidents... it's a long list of calamity and general mood ruining hopelessness.
But somebody has to own the factories the lower social classes work in and while the Capitol more or less owns everything up to and including the air, the deeds of ownership specifically go to the upper class families of Eight. Nothing like the elite of the Capitol and of the Flawless Estate in District One, but certainly well off people. If one were to own a factory or a clothing brand – or, if fate happened to bless them, both – then life in District Eight was a lot more bearable.
It was the factory owners that balanced budgets instead of working with dangerous equipment. It was brand owners that came up with the ideas and designs for the clothes instead of just following a carefully laid out stitching plan.
It was people like Paige Murphy that had very different issues than people like little Susie at number one poverty street who starved during the last winter. So sad, so tragic.
It wasn't money that was a concern for her. The Murphy family were quite well off from being the owners of a pair of very productive factories.
It wasn't work that was a concern for her. The fact her family owned a popular brand of button-up shirts and fancy bow-ties had her easily being put into work sketching out design plans.
It wasn't a lack of friends that was a concern for her. She had her own social group at school; a small one, but nonetheless a pack of boys and girls she felt comfortable bing with.
It was something a bit more physical that left her in distress.
She first heard the diagnosis in the office of the family doctor, Mister Garrord. The clock had been ticking down the time until the reaping that loomed a week away, the muted and subtitled TV in the corner had shown Orion speaking of something or other and clearly showing signs of ageing, the weather outside the window had been cloudy but not badly so.
The face of Mister Garrord had been grave, sympathetic and serious.
Anorexia. Bulimia. Two words he had spoken which had Paige reeling in purest shock.
Paige sat in her seat, stunned. This couldn't be true, could it? The doctor had to have made a mistake, everybody knew even doctors were not infallible! Was she a skinny girl? Perhaps, but then so were plenty of others in the District like those who worked at her family's factories. Maybe she did sometimes worry over how others perceived her, but didn't everybody really?
Paige shook her head. It wasn't like she'd skipped meals here and there and maybe rarely everywhere or had ever thrown up after a dinner party and... oh.
Oh.
With a shaking hand Paige had continued listening to the doctor, feeling more and more gloomy with every passing second. It all made sense, it all added up so horribly perfectly.
She had a serious problem.
Paige left the office with her head in the clouds and the assurance that bi-weekly appointments would be organised. Her head wasn't just in clouds, but gloomy storm clouds like no others. Thoughts that were simply rife with anxiety, self-loathing and purest shame plagued her for the whole walk home and well into the evening.
As Paige laid herself on her cushy bed, staring up at the ceiling, she made a vow to get her life back on track no matter how bad she felt about her looks.
Despite her vow, she couldn't bring herself to eat more than half of the fine meal her mother made for her. Paige sniffled in shame and her mother sobbed in fear for her frail daughter's safety.
The Hunger Games had a habit of getting in the way of everybody's personal plans whether it was a date, a family event or merely staying alive. The Games and the Capitol's bloodlust waited for nothing and nobody, not even a girl needed help for her eating disorder.
That's why on reaping day one of the five slips with Paige's name on it was pulled by the escort (this year dressed like a pineapple of all things...) and she became the female tribute for the year. The escort looked disappointed to have such a skinny girl as one of his tributes and felt somewhat better when the male tribute, an eighteen year old known as Stringer, was notably bulky.
Woof said nothing, per the norm. It was hard to get a word out of him at the best of times. He just looked at his tributes without making a comment, wondering how they'd die and wondering moreso if they were as repulsed by him as most of the District was.
Paige was deathly silent in the Judgement Building, hardly responding as her parents held her close. With how frail she was the odds were simply not looking to be in her favour.
"I know this is a hard thing to ask. It feels wrong to say it after your diagnoses, Paige," her father sighed, picking his words carefully. "In most years the Hunger Games go on for a fair while. You need to try and put on some weight before the arena, or you may end up starving to death once it begins."
Paige looked horrified at the thought. She gulped, nausea starting to overcome her at the thought of what lay ahead before and during the Games, and mumbled that she promised she would try her best.
The idea of eating so much was a terrible concept, but between that and being dead... Paige knew what the lesser of two evils was going to be.
She wondered if she'd die of fear before even reaching the Capitol.
The table laden with all sorts of luxurious Capitol foods frightened Paige almost as much as the vicious, powerful careers seen on the reaping recap. Almost. The presence of a career boy from District Four and a boy from Seven the crowd were glad to see gone tilted things in favour of the other tributes scaring Paige the most.
All the same, the sight of the glazed, fatty, sugary food was a sickly sight for her to bare witness to. There was so much of it, and the food was served in huge portions. She winced as the escort laid out food for her and placed it down in front of her upon a pristine porcelain bowl.
"Eat," the escort shook his head, frowning. "You can't expect to last long if you turn down the Capitol's generosity. Most tributes eat with their hands like savages."
"That's because they're starving," Stringer said, cutting his steak with a knife and fork. "You take everything and leave us with nothing. People due from not having enough food."
"Rotten lies," the escort hissed like a snake.
"It's all true. Why do you think my brother died over the winter?" Stringer shrugged, eating a mouthful of his steak. "I've wanted to die for a while now, so... yeah, I'm not keeping my mouth shut."
"A skeleton and a mouthy brat. Why oh why did I ask for that promotion from Ten," the escort groaned and soon let out a dramatic sob.
Woof remained silent, as if used to seeing this kind of incident year after year. The fact was that, in a general sense, he truly was.
Horrendously uncomfortable and wishing so hard to be somewhere else, Paige forced herself to eat the entirety of her meal. Shuddering as she finished off the incredibly buttery mash potatoes she had to repeatedly remind herself that it was this or dying.
"Just a small meal, just a small meal. Not fattening at all," Paige whispered to herself. "Just think of something else, anything else at all."
And so, she did. In this case she thought of the arts; specifically, dancing. In the long, painful hours of hunger and the agony of doubting her own self-worth Paige would often dance around her large family home. Whether it was ballet in her room, a ballroom performance in the hallways or a rave routine in the back yard Paige displayed competence and passion when in the midst of a dance routine. It was her escape from the harsh world she was in, an act where she did not feel as though she was always being judged.
The only issue was how dancing wasn't an option for her here, not when she was at the same table as a judgemental Capitolite, a known rapist and a boy with the most casually suicidal mindset ever. It was shaping up to be the most uncomfortable night in quite some time and dessert hadn't even been bought out yet.
Paige could only cringe, paling at the thought of how much sugar would infest the cake, tart, pie and so forth. She didn't want any of it... but she had promised to try and so remained seated.
"...Holy snapdragons..." Paige gulped, shaking at the sight of the ten layer chocolate cake that was bought out for dessert.
Sleep was an impossibility for Paige that night, the girl too overwhelmed from sickly thoughts of dinner and her own chronic anxiety. For a time the upper class girl paced back and forth, restless and fretting over and over. For a longer time after that she danced the night away, a silent routine of ballet filling up her whole world.
Her movements were graceful and refined, all the product of years of being self-taught. As she finished with a long, constant spin and ended off in the splits Paige could only quietly sigh.
"Not good enough. Not precise enough," she said, shivering. "Never enough."
Moonlight shone through the window of her room, the pale glow basking the room in a silvery colour. Paige looked out the window at the stars, soon gazing at the moon beyond Panem.
"Must be nice, not being stuck in this cruel world," Paige muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. "Must be nice to be somewhere else and not worry what others say."
"Hello," Stringer spoke suddenly as he swung down in front of the window from the outside.
Paige shrieked, stumbling backwards onto her butt and backed herself away. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, stunned at what she was seeing. Stringer just gave a slow shrug.
"Wanna come on the roof of the train and talk?" Stringer began to haul himself upwards again. "The air is good up here."
With nothing else to do and sleep evading her Paige exited her bedroom and walked out to where the train carriages were connected. Soon enough she sat beside Stringer upon the top of the train, listening to the light howl of the wind and watching the stars.
"You ever think that we could just jump and leave them without two of their tributes? It'd be the worst Hunger Games ever wouldn't it?" Stringer remarked, gazing beyond the moon. "Imagine, two less tributes."
"Is it... really so simple?" Paige asked, unsure.
"...Let's find out," Stringer said, throwing himself off the side of the train carriage.
Before Paige could let out a shrill scream a forcefield had sent Stringer back to his spot beside her.
"Wheeeeee," he said in monotone. "I guess that explains why there's nobody dragging us off the roof. We can't kill ourselves up here."
"How convenient..." Paige trailed off, gazing at the moon once more.
"Something on your mind?" Stringer asked.
"Many somethings," Paige replied, starting to anxiously fiddle with her hair. "It's a long sort of a story."
"We have time," Stringer said, laying down to stare at the sky. "I mean, until we enter the arena at least."
And so, feeling she really had nothing left to lose, Paige talked. She spoke about the anxiety, about her eating disorder, about her ongoing fear of people judging her. Stringer didn't interrupt, simply taking it all in one morose and frantic sentence at a time.
"So, when did this all start?" he asked, curious.
"I... don't know," Paige thought to herself carefully. "Years ago? I just... I kept feeling paranoid that people were avoiding me or whispering about me. I started to try and act like the others who people liked. I made a few friends, but I keep thinking if I don't look my best they might ditch me..."
"...Do you really feel like making yourself so thin is going to make you 'look your best'?" Stringer asked.
"It's... well... it just made sense," Paige whispered. "It makes sense."
"Not to me," Stringer said, getting up to slowly pace around. "Hurting yourself isn't beautiful. Not for people you don't know and who may just think of another reason to act like mutts to you. People don't need much of a reason."
Paige didn't respond, her head hung in pure shame.
"What us people in the Districts need is therapists. Have you ever, you know, noticed that there's literally none of them?" Stringer continued. "I just think it's kind of an oversight right there."
"Therapy sounds nice," Paige mumbled.
"You sound nice," Stringer said, sitting back down. "Your voice, it's nice."
Paige squeaked, covering her face as she shyly squeaked. A few moments passed before she mumbled a thank you.
"Whenever you feel low, and once I'm not here to remind you... just tell yourself these words over and over," Stringer paused for a moment, looking Paige right in the eyes. "You are what you are, and what you are is beautiful. Say it."
"...I am what I am, and what I am is beautiful," Paige whispered.
"Good. Now say it again, but louder," Stringer ordered.
"...I am what I am, and what I am is beautiful," Paige said, a little louder.
"Keep saying that to yourself until you believe it," Stringer said, nodding. "By the way, your dancing is really good."
The pair spoke for a while longer until Paige had to turn in for the night, starting to feel truly weary. As she lay in her bed, tucked up under the warm sheets all nice and cosy while Stringer continued to leap against the forcefield outside the train, she repeated the world to herself once more as the waking world started to fade away.
"...I am what I am, and what I am is beautiful."
Paige tried to call herself beautiful as often as she needed to as the parade and training went by, but it certainly wasn't easy. Especially when the careers were prowling around and out for blood, seemingly moreso than they tended to be in a typical year. With the burly boy from Four quickly welcome into the pack and the sinister looking boy from Seven allowed entry after demonstrating his vicious techniques with an axe, Paige felt that she was looking at insurmountable odds.
"She's so beautiful," Paige whispered, looking at Peppermint from One gracefully duelling a trainer with a long sword. "I wish I was-."
"-Like her?" Stringer guessed, shaking his head. "No you don't. You know what those girls from One are normally like. You saw her threaten the kids from Twelve. Is that who you want to be?"
"...No. It's not," Paige said, giving a firm nod. "...I am what I am, and what I am is beautiful."
"Exactly," Stringer said, patting Paige on the shoulder. "Now c'mon, we should learn how to find water in the arena."
And so, they did. Paige glanced around, noting how this year there seemed to be a lot of survival stations set up. She couldn't claim to know what the training centre was normally like, of course, but it felt like there were less combat orientated stations than there should have been. She counted a mere six.
Overhearing the career pack complaining to each other about this confirmed to her that something was up, something that she intended to prepare herself for. Kneeling by the edible bugs station, she told Stringer what she had noticed.
"Seems like it must be a year where food will be hard to find, like the concrete maze in the Seventh Games," Stringer muttered, shaking his head. "My uncle died there, actually."
"Oh... sorry..." Paige trailed off, wincing.
"It's fine. At least we know what to expect... are you willing to eat a bug if it's the only food around?" Stringer asked, curious.
Paige took a deep breath, taking one of the non-poisonous beetles from the container it was it and carefully holding it up.
"I made a promise to my parents that I would try," she vowed. "I never break my word."
With that said, Paige bit into the beetle for effect with fire in her eyes. A few moments later she gagged and shrieked, spitting out the foul tasting insect as her pale cheeks turned a shade of green. Stringer could only put a hand over his eyes as the careers laughed at the sight and the Gamemakers looked on smugly.
"You look at her like she's got a problem, but you're the ones making a living off of child murder," Stringer said, casual like he were talking about the weather. "Just saying, your problems are worse."
The pair from Two looked like they were about to retaliate but as fate would have it that was when the lunch bell rang. As the tributes left the training centre Paige could only flinch, grossed out and knowing an even bigger trial loomed near.
The mere thought of the food that would be served had her frail frame shaking.
The training days were a nightmare for Paige to get through, only made possible by the fact Stringer was backing her up along the way. Of course, the interviews loomed and he couldn't be on the stage at the same time as her. Even with his give-no-fucks attitude and willingness to die, he wouldn't be able to stand there as the Peacekeepers would merely drag him off the stage in a choke-hold.
Paige felt very much alone in the hour containing down to the interviews.
"I can't do this," she gulped down a large intake of air, starting to cough and choke. "I can't talk to people... not that many... I can't... it's too many...!"
"Well, is there any way you could not have to talk to them?" Stringer asked. "...Like, seriously is there? I've got nothing to add, sorry."
Paige thought about it, pacing around until her prep team demanded that she stand still so they could start finishing off on her look for the interview up ahead.
"All of this movement and dancing around is simply not proper," tutted one of the three frog-esque prep team.
And just like that Paige had an idea. One that had even her prep team excited and eager to help out with. It was so new, so simple... so elegant!
That was why, after the wicked boy from Seven left the stage with a sneer that showed off his overbite, Caesar announced Paige to the nation and ceded the stage to her for the next few minutes, simply telling the crowd she had decided actions spoke louder than words and they were going to see if she was right or wrong.
Based on the absolutely thunderous applause after Paige's ballet dance routine came to an end it seemed as though she was right. Her anxiety from stage fright was tough, but the applause and the whistling made it impossible to do anything but frown as she left the stage. Some of the audience even chanted her name.
"They loved me," Paige whispered in wonder once Stringer left the stage from his interview of casually shading the Capitol.
"That they did," Stringer agreed. "But... now comes the hard part. Are you ready?"
Paige gulped, knowing she was nowhere close to being ready. It was impossible for any Outlier to feel ready for the Hunger Games, no matter how cocky they may have been or the skills that they possessed. Even in years won by careers at least three of them were not ready due to their typical horrid deaths.
But how she felt did not matter for it would start regardless. So, Paige gave Stringer a small nod.
"I'm as ready as I could be after the past few days I have had," she told him.
Stringer nodded, aware she had not really answered the question but not being willing to push it.
When the tributes were launched into the arena that year they heard buzzing before anything came into sight. So much buzzing that seemed more or less endless. That and a particularly sweet scene overwhelmed their senses until everything came into focus.
After the initial reeling in pure confusion it all became obvious what was going on here and where they had ended up at. It was a terrain literally nobody had seen coming, not even those who bet upon what the arena would be year by year.
They were inside a massive beehive. Bees flew lazily overheard, rivers of sticky honey flowed along in that slow way only honey could and the terrain was made up from crunchy honeycombs and other such substances all around. Even the metal exterior of the Cornucopia was dripping with a thick splattering of honey.
Paige had been positioned directly in front of the golden horn of plenty and thus was in a perfect position to see that something was off right away about the contents of the Cornucopia this year.
There was almost no food at all and very few packs scattered around. Most of the supplies on offer were weapons; knives, swords, spears, axes and so forth. There was even a kusarigama that laid at the heart of the Cornucopia, set there specifically for Bolton from Two.
"I knew it," Paige whispered to herself, realising that the surplus of survival stations had been there for a reason. "They're... they're putting the hunger in Hunger Games..."
One look down at her frail body, hardly any bigger after all the Capitol food she had forced herself to at least try and eat, and Paige is weeping. So what if she is used to being hungry? She'll die by a sword or an axe or maybe a mutt... and even if she doesn't the rest have more body mass to burn off and she'll starve.
She doesn't stay to grab anything as the gong rings. She flees for her life across the golden honeycomb landscape with tears in her eyes and her sleeve already a mess from wiping her nose on it three times before she's gone a hundred meters.
Despite the lack of food and water quite a few Outliers run into the fray anyway, desperate to claim a weapon before it's too late and the careers keep a tight hold of all the best supplies. It's the only way they'll ever stand a chance.
Several manage to make off with some knives, an axe or two and even a shiny sword in the case of the boy from Five.
Others lay dead in bloody, vile heaps across the sweet scented clearing of the Cornucopia. Some died trying to keep their guts in, some died with an axe or a knife lodged into their backs.
Stringer died with a spear smashed into his ribcage, but not before tackling and slitting the throat of the girl from Two. She'd been ready to try and shoot at Paige with the only bow and arrow in the arena, a thing he wasn't about to let happen.
The massacre ends with twelve dead tributes, the last one to die being the freckle covered girl from Seven when her savage District partner takes off both her legs with a nasty, sharp axe.
"That's brutal, even by my standards," Peppermint remarked, standing by the torn corpse of the little boy from Six.
"No backsies on the alliance," the boy from Seven replied, shrugging.
The pack may have had a stable alliance of five going on, but nobody else could claim to hold any kind of an alliance or even a brief pact of protection. Least of all Paige, her alliance ending the moment Stringer died.
The pack left to hunt fairly quickly due to the lack of many supplies aside from weapons, leaving Wealth from One as a guard. The boy didn't mind this, content to juggle knives to score a few extra points with sponsors.
With the scattered Outliers having a much shorter head start than usual it made it easy for the careers to hunt down Zagnette from Three, Fume from Six and Tomato from Eleven. Little was left of the three aside a splatter of gore by the time the extra fierce pack was done with them.
It was fortunate that hunger and thirst sent the pack backwards towards the Cornucopia for a supply restock as Paige had been hiding amongst several honeycombs a mere half-mile ahead of where they had been heading. Unseen as the hive began to get darker and night arrived, she slipped away into the shadows without anybody catching a glimpse of her.
But Paige caught a glimpse of something alright; the bees began to fly lower to the ground after the anthem played.
Teary eyed over the death of her ally and friend, Paige kept on moving throughout the dull golden night in search of shelter.
"I am what I am, and what I am is beautiful."
After Bolton died from drowning in honey – quite the sticky situation, one could say – the Career pack decided to ditch the idea of having a guard altogether. There was such a lack of supplies that they could simply lug it all around with them and even if an Outlier or two did grab hold of a weapon while they were gone... well, they had a number advantage and were stronger. A guard was unneeded.
But as a consequence of their fast hunting and lack of notably breaks they began to burn off their energy quickly and were running through their supplies at a dangerously fast pace. Even with the knowledge they had more than any of the Outliers did, the pack felt a little nervous.
Food was not on the sponsor gift list this year. No supply replenishments were coming.
Why would there be when, unknown to basically all of the tributes, the arena itself was fully edible? The honey rivers, the golden ground, the honeycombs that towered in high mountains and blocks, every bit of it was perfectly safe to consume.
None of the tributes knew this, or simply did not trust it and assumed it was poisonous. With the mentors barred from outright telling their tributes this via a message within a sponsor gift the hunger only kept on going and made the tributes weaker as time passed by.
It made the emaciated girl from Twelve so weak, in fact, that she was entirely unresponsive by the time that pack managed to find her.
Paige carefully made her way over a crunchy honeycomb bridge above one of the honey rivers. She was stumbling along, weak from the soul choking hunger that practically strangled her like a clamp draining her of all that she was.
Finally reaching a tall cliff of honeycombs she began to approach a few solidified honey boulders to sit down, not caring in the slightest about getting sticky. She tripped over a small honey pebble, landing face first upon the ground. Standing herself up and swallowing some of the flakes from the ground out of reflex had her softly gasp.
"It's edible," Paige whispered, gazing at the landscape around her. "Every bit of it, edible. Ick, some sweet..."
Even with her powerful hunger it took quite a lot of encouragement both from herself, her memories of Stringer and sponsor notes sent in by Woof for her to take the first bite out of the honeycomb cliff.
Eventually she took a second bite and even a third. While kneeling over, almost hyperventilating, another cannon boomed throughout the arena. The thoughts of how the poor tribute must have died and how there were seven tributes still alive, several of which were part of the powerful career pack, turned her focus back to the ground. Paige clenched her eyes shut, breathing deeply in and out. A single long tear trickled down her face.
"It's better than dying, it's better than dying," Paige chanted, moving her face closer to the edible terrain.
As the hours went by Paige continued to chomp and chew away at the base of the honeycomb cliff, gradually satisfying her hunger and starting to bite a notably hole into the cliff. Eventually, amidst her sobs and shakes, Paige simply bit out chunks of the honeycomb and spat them away.
Hours passed, the anthem with it, and a hole had started to appear that was not there before.
Four days dragged by, no cannons firing but many moans and groans of hunger pains filling the air almost as loudly. The careers had run out of food and the remaining Outliers had nothing at all. It all added to a very literal example of the Hunger Games, a game nobody was having fun playing.
Paige alone was able to keep herself sustained, shaking, sobbing and rocking back and forth as she did so. She had to repeat her mantra hundreds of times an hour, trying not to crack from the pressure.
By now she had eaten a tunnel down into the base of the cliff and several meters underground. By using the circular piece of metal that had been sponsored to her, one painted to resemble honeycombs, it was enough to completely conceal her from sight. The starving tributes wouldn't question it, too hungry to even think of looking closer.
Twice the boy from Eleven had passed by Paige's hiding place and twice he'd been totally unaware of her presence.
Paige didn't care too much about her safety. She was in a state of constant panic from the combination of the bees flying ever lower towards the arena's floor and terror of how she looked after eating so much of the honeycomb floor.
She felt like throwing up out of sheer stress, only the terror of starving to death keeping her from doing so. So, Paige settled for constant hyperventilation as time passed at a snail's pace.
By the time starvation claimed a victim the career pack made up four of the remaining six tributes. The brawl driven by hunger induced madness knocked this down to three out of five with Peppermint, Raymond from Four and Wrenard from Seven splitting off into separate directions with the corpse of Wealth left gutted and staining the honeycombs red.
As the anthem played, the bees flew even lower. They sounded angry.
By day ten Paige was unable to sit still. It was physically impossible for her to stop herself from shaking. This and the feelings of thirst gave her a serious test of her resolve.
Of course, that was almost nothing to how the others were losing their minds from starvation. Desperate for food and terrified of everything around them, not even highly trained Peppermint knew that food was all around them with literally every single step they took leaving a footprint upon a tasty dessert.
In his commentary Caesar gravely called it almost like being locked in a supermarket over the weekend and starving to death.
While Raymond and Trowel from Eleven fought hand to hand in an intense, wild, crazy duel and Peppermint aimlessly wandered in circles miles from everybody else Paige faced another challenge.
Getting water.
A parachute fell containing a single bottle of water, landing on the sloped ground near her hiding spot and gently rolling away to the banks by the honey river. Paige nervously left her hiding spot and scampered over to grab the water. She downed the bottle in a few rapid gulps before she could think of conserving it.
Wrenard tackled her before she could toss the empty bottle away. The boy was screaming nonsensically, all systems of logic, reason and anything more than instinct were long since shut down and overridden by a desire for food of any sort.
Of course, this also meant his technique with his axe was nothing like it had been at the bloodbath and Paige was able to dodge his poor strikes. She ran away and he ran after her.
"I'll do to her what I did to all those animals back home!" Wrenard yelled, his eyes bloodshot and his face sallow. "Just send me something to eat! I don't care what, I'd even settle for anchovies!"
Paige was by no means a fast runner nor athletic for anything aside dancing, but the fact she had eaten recently and Wrenard had not made it easy to keep herself ahead from him. Breathing in deep, weezy gasps she ran on and on until she was cornered at the top of a tall honey cliff.
Wrenard charged at Paige, more animal than man. Only a graceful leap to the side saved Paige from being struck by the axe or from falling over the side like the boy from Seven did. He landed hard, breaking a leg.
The fall didn't kill him, but the honey rock that Paige pushed over the edge of the cliff in a terror driven surge of adrenaline did the job just fine. Paige sobbed and shook as she fled back to her tunnel sanctuary and curled up at the base of it, her tears soon mixing in with the sugar and sticky honey.
Paige stayed in that hole for two days while Raymond, after killing Trowel in a massively drawn out battle he'd barely won, went off in search of the two remaining girls. He never came close to finding Paige.
He never found Peppermint either, wandering in a slow and starving shuffle to the north while Paige cowered in the south and Peppermint crawled along, moaning in pain towards the east.
It didn't matter by the time the twelfth anthem came to an end. The bee mutts finally flew low enough to start causing damage and that's exactly what they did. Blocked out of Paige's tunnel by the cover, they settled for literally stinging the life out of Peppermint and Raymond.
The careers were so hungry that they hardly felt the stings before they faded away. Paige, meanwhile, heard all the non-stop buzzing for quite a long time before the last cannon echoed across the hive and the trumpets rang out.
She crawled out from her tunnel, shaking and ever so frail. So overcome with sickly feelings, anxiety and fear as she was, it was a wonder that she had it in her to do a small victory dance.
The dance consisted of a single spin before falling over in an unconscious slump.
Winning the Hunger Games did not cure Paige of her anorexia by any means, even after eating so much honeycomb that the tunnel which saved her life ended up existing at all. It certainly did nothing to better her anxiety even slightly. Memories were made that would never leave her.
But she was alive. That meant Paige could at least be treated in the first place, a process that began as soon as she went home to District Eight. Naturally, her District was absolutely delighted to have their second ever victor, especially one who was known for something other than rape like their first. Even Woof was glad, simply happy people would pay less attention to him next time Games season arrived.
Two months after the Games came to an end Paige left her second bi-weekly appointment with her doctor and made a beeline towards the destination she always visited every Sunday. The skies of Eight were always cloudy and full of smog, but around the tribute graveyard things tended to clear up. On this day, as Paige laid flowers down upon Stringer's grave and carefully knelt down, sitting herself in front of the tombstone.
"Hi Stringer," Paige said, her voice as soft as it always was. "Nice day today, relatively speaking. I mean, not that you're here to see it. Uh... the doctor said I'm making some progress, so that's nice. Still underweight and still not really 'cured' or anything like that but, well, I'm slowly starting to get there."
Paige sighed, mumbling inaudible as a cool breeze filled the afternoon.
"Thanks for being my friend and helping me. Maybe I could have done it alone, maybe I couldn't have... we'll never know. What I do know is that you made me feel like I mattered, y'know? Like me being here really means something. It hurt so badly and all that buzzing was mortifying, not to mention how awful it felt to eat that tunnel of honeycombs, but... I'm alive. You've made me feel glad for that," Paige softly smiled, resting a hand against the smooth gravestone. "I am what I am, and what I am is beautiful. Just like you said."
Paige soon lay down beside the grave, gazing up at the clouds. For a time, all was silent.
"It's not easy. Probably never will be. But I intend to try for as long as it takes to feel better and like all is well. I owe that to you Stringer," Paige said eventually. "...You are what you are, and what you are is a noble friend."
Paige continued to lay beside her friend's grave until the sun went down and she had to turn in for the night. As she walked away to her grand house she looked back at the grave.
"Same time next week then?" Paige asked.
She took the silence as a yes. For the rest of her life, this weekly tradition would always remain. Laying down flowers and talking to Stringer about how her life was progressing and how she was feeling about various things. When Paige one day told Stringer she was deemed to be cured of her eating disorder she, for the briefest of moments, though she heard a whisper on the wind cheering for her.
But, that had to have just been her imagination... right?
"Nice that Eight had another Victor and all, but... thirty years. Not even halfway through this sick game," Katniss shook her head, disgusted. "How many dead children was it by then?"
Peeta paused for a few moments, trying to quickly add up the numbers in his head.
"Six hundred and ninety," Peeta said, his voice very blank all of a sudden.
"...Fuck the Capitol," Katniss said, matter-of-factly.
The couple silently walked onwards for a few steps until they came to the thirty first face imprinted upon the sidewalk. Both couldn't help lightly smirking as they observed the face of a boy with long and wild hair, a few piercings, some scars and an expression of pure mischief and adventurous intent.
"Chassis Macalister," Katniss said, chuckling. "The first Victor of District Six."
"Feels fitting he came from Six," Peeta added. "After all... he won in only six hours."
And that was Paige! I found her to be a decently likeable and interesting kind of character, but what about you guys? How about the edible arena, perhaps one of the better arenas thus far in this tale? Personally speaking I feel satisfied with how this one turned out and how it has concluded the third decade of the Hunger Games. Next up, a very long awaited chapter where we'll meet the first Victor from Six. Oh, I have many plans for this one... see you guys real soon for it... O_O
Stats
District 1: Peridot Gaudy (8th Games), Crystal McCree (14th Games), Bronze Marley (19th Games), Crown Martins (24th Games)
District 2: Baron Overwhill (4th Games), Runa Peace (7th Games), Olga Machete (10th Games), Rook Valiant (17th Games), Boulder Atherston (20th Games), Vercingetorix Carnby (25th Games), Dragon Batofel (27th Games)
District 3: Honorius Perthshire (5th Games), Pi Orbit (22nd Games)
District 4: Museida Selkirk (3rd Games), Mags Flanagan (11th Games), Tide Luther (23rd Games)
District 5: Shunt Gaspar (12th Games), Isobel Sparks (18th Games), Crimson Flanders (29th Games)
District 6: N/A
District 7: Pliny Aransio (2nd Games), Fir Buzz (9th Games), Jack Tylos (21st Games)
District 8: Woof Casino (16th Games), Paige Murphy (30th Games)
District 9: Mizar Aldjoy (1st Games), Gwenith Rosebud (13th Games), Teff Withers (28th Games)
District 10: Stallion March (26th Games)
District 11: Bear Redfoot (15th Games)
District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games)