Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.
Note: Here we are, the end of another decade of the brutal Hunger Games. That makes another two hundred and thirty dead children. I guess it's a poor age for the Districts, but a fine age for the funeral industry? In any case, this is a character that might remember if you read the SYOT fic 'The Youngest Among Us' written by Professor R.J Lupin1. Lammy's a character I feel attached to and once I had the idea for this special chapter format… well, she suited it perfectly. Read on and hopefully at least slightly enjoy!
"She doesn't look like the toughest of girls," Katniss said, mostly to herself. "But still… all those kills."
"She must have been another who was stronger than she seemed to be," Peeta said, looking down at Lammy's imprinted face. "You can see in her cheeks that she's better fed than most people in Ten. Rich girl maybe?"
"Might be," Katniss replied. "That or an expert thief who stole from every food store near her."
After a moment Katniss faintly chuckled.
"Yeah, you're right, she must have been rich," Katniss added.
The pair went silent, paying their respects to the heavyset girl from Ten of decades prior. A girl who had more in common with Katniss than the Mockingjay realised.
40th Annual Hunger Games
Name: Lammy Phyronix
Gender: Female
District: 10
Age: 14
Kills: 6
Hare Townsend, 16 years old – District Ten Male of the 40th Hunger Games
Second Day of Training - 11:40
I feel glad, far from the first time, that the careers have ignored me completely. They seem more willing to focus on my district partner.
I watch them from across the training centre while waiting behind the little kid from Six at the shelter build station. It's kind of impossible not to notice the careers when they're talking down to somebody else.
I'd normally step in, honest, but in the Hunger Games things are different… I'm starting to see why Stallion told us that 'everybody secretly likes it when conflicts break out which do not involve them'. It means we'll live a little longer.
The boy from Six leaves, allowing me the chance to start brushing up on shelter building. It's pretty simple stuff when you get the basics down. Simple enough for me to work without issue while watching the career pack.
Just my luck I got reaped in a year where the pack has six members. Last year was better with how they only had three people. Alas, two burly bastards from Four volunteered. Guess it's just one of those years.
I try not to show much emotion, but it's hard not to flinch from the way they all crowd around Lammy. She had tried to move unseen from the edible plants station over to the camouflage station, but they saw her a mile away.
The unfortunate fact is that it's easy to see why they zeroed in on Lammy from the start. A younger tribute, check. Started crying like a baby at the reaping, check. Fairly overweight, check.
I'm not sure why I watch. It's not as if I can do anything for her when only one of us gets out of here. It has to be me, it just has to.
There's no fighting permitted in here, so said the man in charge of training, but apparently shoving Lammy onto her butt and mocking her is just fine and dandy. In all of training so far she's displayed neither courage nor any real skills. Quite the opposite.
She's just started crying again for one thing.
"Hey look! Somebody replaced the female tribute from Ten with one of their fat pigs!" says the boy from One, laughing his ass off. He's the worst of the lot.
"I want to slice myself some ham. Maybe make a sandwich," the girl from Two adds, laughing. She ain't much better.
The girl from One just makes oinking sounds and soon the whole career pack is laughing at Lammy. They keep laughing and pointing as she stumbles and awkwardly jogs away to hide in one of the artificial bushes at some training station nobody is using.
I guess if District Ten is getting another victor it's all up to me this year. Stallion can only save one of us and he's hedged his bets on me. I think he knows that Lammy's too soft to make it, even if she does somehow manage to escape the careers when that gong rings. What can she really do? I know Gwenith won all those years ago with a score of two, but she had allies. Lammy doesn't.
If anything, she's avoided talking to anybody. She barely mumbles a few polite words to me at breakfast time as it is.
"Move over, I want a turn," says the girl from Three behind me.
"Right, right, I'm moving," I say, getting up and leaving her to it.
The training days pass pretty quick. Yesterday was a blur and today has been going far too fast. Before long it's lunch time, the one time I really have a chance to just sit and think. As I eat my meal I catch sight of Lammy off in a corner all by herself. Her flaming red hair is unmissable, after all. Sticks out like a boar among pigs.
I can't help wondering if she has some kind of a stress eating thing going on. All that food she's quickly going through can't be normal, can it?
I cast away thoughts of my district partner. I can't let myself get soft; I have to be tough and able to kill if I'm gonna get home to my family. There's no place for Lammy in my plans.
I shake my head one last time as the boy from One throws a handful of mash potatoes at Lammy, jeering at her to eat it like a pig. She closes her eyes and covers her face, about ready to burst into tears.
"Leave me alone!" she wails, her voice cracking into a squeak.
The pack, of course, just have a good laugh over this. I don't miss how one or two others around the canteen do the same, though a bit more discreetly. Shameful, the lot of them.
Soon enough the bell rings and it's back to training for us. Nobody pays me any mind as I bring up the rear of the crowd.
Lammy can't say the same. The pack all chase after her, calling it practise for the main event in just a few days. Lammy sobs, running away like a scared animal up for the slaughter and off to hide in the same fake bush as earlier.
One tribute from Ten is surely gonna die in the first few minutes and it won't be me.
Coast Trenton, 16 years old – District Four Female of the 40th Hunger Games
22nd Day of the Games. Arena Time – 13:43
My feet are killing me.
Past Hunger Games have lasted a long time, sure, but it's so rare for them to go on this long. Not that many of the cannon fodder were all that tough this year. I'd figured after I managed to slit the boy from Ten's throat around thirty seconds in this was going to be a hop, swim and a dive to the good life. A week at most.
But here we are past the three week mark and I'm starting to think we're going around in circles.
By now the massive rocky mountain range they put us in this year has become just as familiar and second nature to me as my neighbourhood back home in Four. We've been here so long that, sometimes, memories of the outside world are getting fuzzy.
I wonder if Grandpa is watching me now, tapping his fancy watch impatiently.
The arena is honestly not that bad this year. Beautiful orange sunrises and pink sunsets, formidable cliffs and high peaks, a lovely refreshing stream that cascades from the peaks and down through the valley… this and the soft breeze make it fine arena. Especially when we could've gotten a sewer like that fucking hellhole the Twenty Sixth Games took place in.
It would be great if it wasn't for one little problem that we've been unable to take care of.
No, not a 'little' problem. A fat problem!
The last tribute we killed was the boy from Seven three days ago – that boy fought like a fucking psycho – and since then it's been down to seven tributes. Before then we managed to find and kill most of them one by one after the six death bloodbath. All except this last one.
The girl from Ten. I have no idea how she's been doing it, but she's still alive and we've not seen her ever since she ran away as soon as the gong rang.
The Gamemakers haven't drawn her in closer to us, so we've been marching around in hopes of finding any sign of her. We just have to find her and she'll be dead, easy as that. But that's just it.
We can't find her!
"Guys, this is hopeless," my district partner Halibut grumbles, always in a bad mood. "We should stop for a bit. Maybe split up?"
"No, we stick together," Candy from One says. That girl's been getting a bit big for her boots if you ask me. "We'll keep moving around and we will find her eventually. A cannon might even go any second now."
No such luck. The six of us are gonna be here another week at this rate. Maybe we'll even crack the thirty day milestone. I assumed it'd be impossible for that to happen, but now I'm not so sure.
Halibut and Candy bicker for a while, myself and Spitfire from Two backing up Halibut and both Hermes from Two and Triumph from One backing up Candy. The impasse wastes another ten minutes before we end up on the move once more. At least the ground ahead is all clear; just one of the mountain range's grassy fields.
"So, where are we going next?" I ask, moving in front of the others. "That fat pig could be anywhere. We need a plan. A planned route."
Spitfire seems like she's about to speak up, right before a crack fills the air. One moment I feel weightless and the next… no, no, no, nonononon NONONONONO!
The pain, it's everywhere… I can't breathe… the blood is pouring like a river… it hurts… wooden spikes… my guts… I never even…
Triumph Washington, 18 years old – District One Male of the 40th Hunger Games
22nd Day of the Games. Arena Time: 18:28
Ever since Coast fell down that pit and got skewered on a few dozen wooden spikes the rest of the pack has been on edge. They go on and on, whining over it being a freak accident, wondering who did such a thing and if there are anymore of those pits around.
It's made our already slow progress even slower.
Sure, I play the part and act like I'm just as on edge as the others… but on the inside? I'm practically dancing! Whoever dug the trap is long dead and besides, Coast scored a nine so who cares if she got killed before we expected it? It was the best for all of us, especially me. One less person to worry about when the pack breaks after we kill that fat little pig.
Speaking of that fatty, I can't wait to dig my sword into her gut and watch whatever's stuffed in there come flooding out. It's gonna be beautiful. I'll admit, the thought has me feeling hot. Murder always does. I just hope the rest don't beat me to the kill or that Ten gets herself killed like a fucking idiot while we're miles away.
I mean, it'd be no shock if she does, but it'd be a waste of all the trash talking back in the training centre. I can see it now; her screams, her begging, the blood, the gore…
"We gonna set up camp?" Spitfire asks. "It's gonna be dark soon."
"Fuck that," I say, shaking my head. "For all we know she may be just ahead past the trees. We can keep going another half hour."
Naturally, the others agree with me – I mean, why wouldn't they? – and let me lead the way forwards. They know their places: firmly behind me and, before long, beneath me.
Six feet beneath me.
We've passed this place a few times already. A small grove at the base of a mighty cliff where a few trees grow here and there. No idea what kind of trees, just that they're covered in lots of tree sap and grow nothing useful like, I dunno, fruit. Past here is the river and beyond that the cornucopia.
I find it hard to keep calm as we move along, but I'm just so restless and excited! It's been too long since I last killed a tribute and heard those sweet, sweet screams. Once we find Ten I'm gonna make her wish she was never born, right before I f-WHOA!
I'm not sure what it is that I trip on. I just know my ankle hurts like shit, though it's nothing my sponsors can't fix. Worse yet, I fell face first into a sap covered tree. I bet the audience must be having a good laugh over this. My piece of shit allies sure are. Whatever, I'll get free and…
…Shit.
I'm stuck. The tree sap is like some kind of glue, keeping me firmly stuck in place like a man in a set of stocks. I can't see anything aside the golden glaze of the sap. I remain calm at first, knowing that panicking could make it worse. The chuckles of my allies piss me off, but I don't care. I'll kill them later.
My lungs hurt. I can't breath! My mouth and nose are stuck too, filled up with sap! No, no, no! I scream, all my shouts muffled into near silence. I hear the others trying to work out how they're gonna free me, but I don't have that kind of time! It hurts! My lungs burn!
I feel tears mixing in with the sap around my eyes. Get me out of here! I don't want to die like this, anything but suffocation by tree sap! No, no, no, no, no!
I dig my feet into the ground, the world going fuzzy and my head getting horribly light. One good tug should do it and then it's back to business. Freeing myself might even get me a sponsor gift. I get my hands in place, ready to force myself back.
It hurts so much! It's so fucking hard to think…
On three I'll pull back. One… two… three!
I fall to the ground, my face on fire and red covering everything. A shrill roar fills the evening and suddenly everybody else is screaming. It hurts… it hurts… save me…!
Everything fades except the pain. The last thing I see between all the blood and the tears is my face and some entrails still stuck to the tree sap…
Spitfire Li, 18 years old – District Two Female of the 40th Hunger Games
23rd Day of the Games – Arena Time: 12:07
Everybody had nightmares after what happened to Triumph. Dying by ripping his own face off after near suffocation… shit, what a terrible way to go.
Makes the fact I was gonna gut him when the pack breaks seem tame in comparison.
Being two allies down while that ginger girl continues to evade us is one thing, but we may have a new problem to watch out for. Hermes checked the area that Triumph tripped on and found the cause almost instantly.
A small pothole. Deliberately dug, ankle deep and really hard to see if you weren't looking right at it.
A trap.
We've all been careful with where we step ever since then. No more potholes have been sighted away from those sap covered trees, but it pays to be careful. Nobody wants to end up like Triumph.
If I end up as the next cannon, how am I gonna bring my family into the big leagues of Two? They're counting on me and I'm not letting them down!
We've walked by the stream for a while, keeping an eye out for the girl from Ten. I never expected her to be so hard to catch, or even spot to begin with. It's as if she's turned herself invisible or something.
I shake my head and spit in the stream, disgusted. She only scored a four, how has she been keeping herself alive for so long? Where is she hiding?
"Careful," Hermes says from his spot at the front of the pack. "This is where the valley gets really steep. We should go the long way around."
I'd hate to give that ginger pig more time to run from us, but Hermes is right. The water flows a few paces ahead, and then goes violently downwards to rocks and rough water below. About the only place in the arena where the water is anything besides gentle.
"Sure, let's do it your way," Halibut says, shrugging. "She's clearly not here anyway. Cornucopia anyone?"
We all agree to this, especially Candy. She ran out of arrows last night when the Gamemakers sent a lone wolf to go after us. Guess they were bored or something. It put up no fight, but Candy's last two arrows broke when they hit the beast. It must have had one ridiculously tough hide, though not tough enough to survive my rapier.
The easiest way down is surprisingly nearby. Just some tall grass and then a few rocky steps leading to a trail further down the mountain. I glance back at Hermes as we walk along.
"So, when we find her, who gets the kill?" I ask. "Because it's been over a week since I slit the Eight boy's throat and-FUCK! AAARRRRGH!"
It's like my ankle was dipped in a cauldron of molten metal. I scream and shout, probably loud enough to be heard across the arena. I'd call out a threat to that ginger girl if I didn't have a bigger problem to deal with.
Closed around my right ankle is a bear trap. An metal bear trap with jagged teeth digging into my ankle, down to the bone. It's hell. It hurts!
I hop around like a madwoman, screaming for somebody to get the damn thing off of me. Halibut doesn't do a thing, just giving me a blank look. Candy hesitates, but starts to move over like a good ally should.
Hermes makes an actual effort. The blood is everywhere but he comes right to my aid, trying to make a grab for me. I can't keep still, the pain making it impossible. Between my screams he says something, but I don't catch what it is. Is he reminding me of something Headmistress Olga told us? Not the right time, not when my ankle is in a bear trap!
Hermes lunges for me, missing as I finally topple over. I'm left screaming when, rather than a thud onto the grass, I'm overwhelmed by freezing water. My scream comes out bubbled, water filling up lungs in the seconds before I come up for air.
"Spitfire! No!"
My gut lurches as I freefall. My lungs burn from both the water and my own mortal fear.
"MAMA!"
Everything explodes into a hellish flame as a sharp rock protrudes through my back and out my guts. It's impossible to describe the pain. No, no…. no… please no… I barely get to choke out a few drops of blood before…
Candy Spicer, 16 years old – District One Female of the 40th Hunger Games
23rd Day of the Games – Arena Time: 20:15
The three of us are all miserable when we finally arrive back at the cornucopia. I don't know about the boys, but now I'm getting pretty freaked out. The paranoia is really getting to me… what if another bear trap is just a few inches from my toes? What if another pothole is just a step away?
I try not to puke at the thought of how Triumph died. I come about halfway to succeeding, but the boys don't say anything about it. They're just as upset as I am. Wordlessly, Halibut lights a fire and we sit around it in a triangle formation. The fire warms us up, but it doesn't take away the cold stress in our expressions.
This is fucked up. Three of us dead and Ten – I forgot her name – is still out there, probably asleep and a total sitting duck.
"So, what do we do now?" Hermes asked, stabbing his sword into the dirt.
"Stay here and hope the Gamemakers just drive the piglet towards us?" Halibut says, shrugging.
Rain lightly begins to fall. I take it as a sign that no such thing will be happening, and that we better get back to hunting after a good rest. We should set up the tarps, but I'm too tired to bother with it. Seems the boys are too.
The silence lasts for ten minutes. Time spent doing absolutely nothing. Seems like it'd enough for Hermes to let out a growl of annoyance.
"Ok, look, we're clearly missing something here," Hermes says, pounding his fist to the ground. "We've been all over the arena dozens of times, maybe more. Now these traps are popping up as well and three of us have died. All the while Lammy is still walking around, closer to the win by doing nothing. Can you imagine how our names will go down if she of all tributes outlives us?"
Lammy, that's her name. I'd entirely forgotten it after around the two hundredth time I call her a pig. Pig always suited her better anyway.
"Was anybody at the trap setting station?" Hermes continues.
"I saw the boy from Five there," Halibut says. "He was, like, the fourth or fifth to die. This isn't his work."
"Well, who then?" Hermes asks, fuming. "Think guys, think. What do we remember about Ten? What did she do, how did she train?"
I'm not sure how much time passes with us straining to remember. I feel my eyes growing heavier by the second, until I recall something. It's so vague, so distant… but I recall something from the interviews… something Caesar had said ever so briefly... something hazy, half-formed but still a fact that stuck out.
"Jerry Phyronix," I say, sitting up.
"Who the fuck is that?" Hermes asks, his eyes narrowed. "What, is one of the other boys still alive? Did a cannon misfire or something? Bugger me!"
"No, it's somebody else," Halibut says, sitting up too. "I have a really good memory for names. None of the fodder boys were named Jerry."
"So who was it then?" Hermes asks, dull. "Or is this just a waste of time?"
"I… I remember the name from the interviews. I think he was a famous trapper, something like that. Caesar mentioned him," I say, shrugging. "I just can't remember what that has to do with all of this."
"Isn't Lammy's surname Phyronix, or something?" Halibut says.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
"What? What is it?" Hermes asks.
"…District Ten," I stand up as I whisper, everything coming together. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit!"
"Calm down Candy. Deep breathes and then tell us what's going on here," Hermes tells me, firm as per always.
So I do. I tell them what little I recall, of how Caesar had mentioned Jerry briefly at the start of Lammy's interview, asking if she had any relation to the 'most famous trapper to ever live', a man who makes his living catching animals and even mutts left over from the Dark Days, often selling their pelts. Apparently Crystal owns one. Lammy claimed no relation at all, and the interview moved on to become a forgettable, teary affair.
Clearly there was a relation, one that Lammy did not want us to know about and Caesar played along with that. Halibut seems to know where I'm going with this and lets out the foulest of curses.
"What is it?! Out with it!" Hermes barks, almost desperate.
"Lammy is Jerry's daughter," Halibut groans, a hand to his head.
"He taught her everything she knows. Traps, hunting, stealth, survival - everything!" I shout, tugging at my blonde locks. "She... she..."
"She what?" Hermes hisses.
"She fucked with us!" Halibut shouts. "She fucked with us every step of the way!"
There's fear in Halibut's eyes. It's just like the fear in mine as he tells me what I dread to hear. Lammy played us… she played up the coward angle to ensure none of us would see her as a threat. Not worth chasing after when she ran off on day one. We fell for it like chumps.
We must be babbling and shouting for twenty minutes before we finally calm down, if only to stop our throats getting anymore sore than they already are. It's decided what we have to do. No careless mistakes, no chances taken, no more underestimating our opponents.
If we'd seen Lammy as a person and not a fat pig then we'd have figured her out sooner.
The boys ask me to get a tarp so we can keep the fire going and keep the rain off of us. I barely give a grunt as I head into the cornucopia to search for it. The whole place is dark in here, the cloudy sky and late hour making the place way too dark. I fumble for a flashlight, but there's none here.
I swear, if Lammy came by and stole it while we were gone… fucking bitch.
Not just that but I can feel puddles under my feet. Just great, the damn horn of plenty sprung a leak. As if our luck wasn't bad enough already.
"I can't see shit in here!" I yell out to the boys.
"Use a flashlight," Hermes replies.
"It's gone!" I huff.
"Then use a lighter, there's like ten of them in there. Probably," Halibut chimes in.
Useless, both of them. I won't miss them once I win. At least I find the small basket of lighters after another minute of fumbling around. I flick on the lighter-ACK!
The lighter explodes, flames covering my hand. I leap back, waving my hand without a clue what just happened. The lighter hits the floor and that's when it all becomes horribly, terrifyingly clear.
It's not puddles of water nor a leak.
It's gasoline!
I scream, everything becoming hot around me. Everything breath I take burns! Make it stop, make it stop… my hair burns… my skin melts… make it stop… stop… please no fire… stop…
Halibut Simpson, 18 years old – District Four Male of the 40th Hunger Games
24th Day of the Games – Arena Time: 10:32
Hermes and I hike side by side up the steep trail of the mountain, powering through the rain in search of Lammy. She has to be lurking somewhere around here. She can't hide from us forever.
It's been so long that I've forgotten what she even looks like, aside the fiery ginger hair.
I shiver. The word 'fiery' makes me think back to last night. The Cornucopia was caught in an inferno with Candy at the heart of it. Our ally burnt to a crisp with all the supplies that were still in there. The fire is still ongoing… so basically, we're in the shitter. The sponsors sent us a few things, but it's not much to go on.
We move fast, trying to hunt quickly and ignore our paranoia and hunger. I'm not feeling so hot and I know Hermes is the same. He said much the same to me an hour ago, back when we were unsure if we were gonna fight or stick together. In the end the choice was easy. Two of us means twice the odds to stop traps laying around and an extra set of eyes searching for Lammy.
The longer this goes on the harder she'll become to kill. Every hour that passes is another hour she's used to set down more traps. Fuck, they could be anywhere around us.
"Shame our mentors cannot just send us directions to find her," Hermes mutters.
"Tide's got no such privilege I guess," I say, shrugging. "Wait, you mean even Olga… Olga… can't do that?"
"Nope. It's the rules," Hermes says, sighing. "Whatever, eventually they'll have to send her towards us. You know, by day thirty or forty."
"Maybe lady luck will stop shitting on us and she'll just fall off a cliff in an hour tops," I say, shivering from the morning breeze.
I'm not sure how long we walk along, aimless in our search. Eventually though we start nearing the peak of the mountain. A small forest clusters around here, trees growing tall and numerous fallen leaves coating the ground.
It's suspicious as hell.
"Ok, we'll take it nice and slow," Hermes says, drawing his sword. "No running. Just edge forwards bit by bit."
A good plan overall. I'm quick to agree and follow behind Hermes as we search through the peak forest. For a while there's nothing to make note of, just the gentle chirps of a few harmless looking birds up in the trees.
Traps are sprung, but it's Hermes sword out in front of him that sets them off. Hermes chuckles and I smirk, almost laughing. Finally, a system that works. Things are starting to look up. About time too. I'll be sure to show Lammy exactly how much I appreciated her traps once we find her. I'm nothing like that sick boy Triumph, but I find it hard to feel much aside hate for that girl.
Deep breathes Halibut. In… out… in… out… in… o-
"Aw shit!" Hermes shouts in alarm as he's yanked into air by one leg and left dangling from a higher branch. His sword lands on the ground, clattering harmlessly.
"Hold on, I'll get you down," I start to move underneath him, looking for a way to actually go about doing that.
"I'm fine," he says, yanking a dagger from his belt. "Just a minute."
I back away from him as he cuts at the rope. Once Hermes gets down I think we can-ACK!
Everything is one horribly fast blur, enough to make me feel like I were almost seasick. When I get my bearings I'm upside-down beside Hermes. He gives me an unimpressed look, pausing his rope cutting to cross his arms and sulk at me.
It's kinda funny, really.
"I'll cut myself down and pass the knife up," he says, rolling his eyes. "Just… stay still or something."
I don't disobey, now's not the time for jokes. Hermes is down in moments, landing harmlessly. True to his word he passes the knife to me and I start cutting.
"What do we do after this?" I ask him. "Down the mountain again? Maybe check the waterfall Spitfire fell off of?"
"I guess it's as good an idea as any," Hermes says. "Though truth be told I'd rather never see that waterfall again and… hey, what's that sound?"
"…Cracking?" I say, shrugging from my upside-down position. "Probably a branch or something, that's pretty normal in a forest, right?"
Before I can resume cutting I'm suddenly falling to the ground at what must be a hundred miles per hour. My neck feels loose…
Hermes Jacques, 18 years old – District Two Male of the 40th Hunger Games
25th Day of the Games – Arena Time: 14:00
I couldn't sleep for even a second all night. I was too scared.
Ever since Halibut fell and broke his neck yesterday I've been all alone. I should be happy, being just one more kill away from winning the Games. I'd even take a win by default at this point, just to get out of this shitty arena. I know for a fact that if I can spot Lammy I will win. She'd never be able to best me in a fight.
But no. The little coward is still far away… or maybe she's nearby? I have no idea. I've not seen her in weeks! How ironic, she was on the pedestal closest left to mine and I lunged to the right to break the twelve girl's neck. If I chose differently maybe things would've been different.
At least the clouds are beautiful.
I have no idea where I am going or what I am doing. I've got almost no food, just one bottle of water and a sharp sword. Oh, and paranoia. Lots and lots of paranoia. There might be thousands of traps all around me. Traps just like the ones that killed my entire alliance.
Fuck. I need to end this, quick! If not for the fame and fortune then for my own sanity!
"Lammy you cowardly little bitch!" I scream, my voice echoing across the mountain valley. "Come out and fight me like a real tribute!"
I get no response, not that I expected anything different. As if she'd be brave enough to give me a real fight. She just lets her traps do the hard work for her. She'd never win a fight, not like I could. Even now my muscles are bulging and ready for anything.
I press onwards, ready to go home. Just one more kill, just one more kill. I only need to find her and I'm done. She'd never outfight or outrun me.
And as for outclimbing me? Ha, the thought makes me laugh.
I'm careful to avoid the pair of sap covered trees beside me. I'd rather keep my face where it's meant to be. Carefully through the middle I go, nowhere near them or the tall grass either side of them that no doubt houses some kind of a bear trap.
Wait… did I just hear a snap?
I glance down and see a broken tripwire? I'm on alert quickly, sword ready and eyes like those of an eagle. I'm ready for anything. No trap is gonna get me.
"Come on, where are you," I stare up at the trees, seeing nothing.
I cough and splutter, short of breath for a moment. A few drops of blood come out.
My back feels damp.
I'm shaking, suddenly lightheaded and spacing out. No, no, no! I'm so close! I stagger a few paces, fighting to keep hold of my breath. I've not been hit by anything, why am I feeling so messed up?
My back is soaking.
I shudder, coughing up more blood. I try shouting for that coward to come on out, but my words are like gibberish. I sway on my feet, deciding to glance back. Maybe it's a knife? If I take it out just right then…
…Shit.
There must be at least twenty wooden spikes stabbed right into my back. The blood is everywhere. I guess that… explains why I… feel like… shit…
The last thing I remember is falling face first to the ground, getting a nasty taste of dirt on my bloodied tongue…
Stallion March, 29 years old – Victor of the 26th Hunger Games
Mentor Control Room – 14:20
I stand up from my mentoring station, hardly able to believe what I am seeing. It was impressive when Coast fell into a trap, even moreso when Triumph fell to another trap. I'd expected something to go wrong soon enough, but by now it's far too late for such a thing to occur.
Hermes lays face down on the forest ground, his vitals weakening with every passing second. He goes still as a log and the cannon booms.
I can't help feeling like I'm gonna hurl at the sight of all the blood. It's enough to make a man want to stay indoors for a week, if not longer. I force myself to keep watching, even with how awful the germ ridden arena is.
At least it's not the sewer I was in. I ran around smelling like, and covered in, shit and then ended up as the only one who came out clean. What I'd give to forget all about it. Maybe one day I'll have had enough showers to wash away the pain and the smell.
The cannon echoes away into silence and the victory trumpets ring out for all across Panem to see. The camera zooms out into the air high above the mountain arena and then zooms in to a spot around four miles away from where Hermes' corpse lays.
There she is, my first victor. The first of hopefully many that I'll save.
Lammy stands in the breeze of the afternoon, her mane of red hair blowing from the force of it. Aside being coated in a layer of filth and a few bruises and scrapes from falls she's taken my victor is otherwise just fine.
She looks like I did back when I won the Games. Hardly able to believe it.
Tears well up in her eyes and she drop to her knees, staring off into space. She trembles, huddling her arms around herself as the hovercraft starts to descend to collect her. Lammy mumbles something, soon tossing her knife – by now worn down to being almost worthless – over the edge of a cliff.
"May I present the victor of the Fortieth Annual Hunger Games! Lammy Phyronix from District Ten!"
Lammy stumbles towards the hovercraft, almost tripping on her baggy outfit twice. The time in the arena and all the constant activity means it hardly fits the poor girl anymore. As she's lifted out of the arena, safe and sound, applause fills my ears.
It takes me a moment before I realise that it's coming from many of the victors in the room with me. Some of them sit and scowl, like Dragon and Bronze. But many others, from Mizar and Gwenith down to Paige, Snag and Rhyder all applaud for me. I can't help feeling bashful, taking a light bow.
"Thank you kindly guys," I say with a smile as I head for the exit door. "But if you'll excuse me there's a little girl coming home in a few hours who's gonna want to see a familiar face."
Lammy Phyronix, 14 years old – Victor of the 40th Hunger games
Train, bound for District Ten – 20:00
The world rushes by me like a blur, the train apparently going at almost two hundred miles an hour. It's strange to be going so fast and not feel a thing.
I wish it could go faster. I just want to go home and fall into dad's arms. If ever I needed a big hug it was now. Those Games… the things I did… I have no idea what to feel or think right now.
My dad's famous and respected. I'm unpopular and stress eat constantly. I just… can't calm down. I'm always worrying, though after surviving the Games maybe I can afford to just assume I can make it through things ok…? I hardly got hurt at all.
Point is, I didn't have the legacy that my dad does but I did have all the skills he taught me over the past decade. How to make a wide variety of traps, how to hunt for my own food, what's safe and unsafe in the wild, the most vulnerable places of the human body to stab… when it comes down to it people can be trapped and hunted just like animals.
It's actually pretty creepy how similar it all is.
I'd been panicking throughout the train ride, worried they'd know all about my dad and what he does. Worried they'd peg me as somebody to kill right away. I was miserable to be reaped, so forcing out those tears to make people think I was a weakling was easy. Easier still to play the role of a victim when the careers thought I was pathetic. The names stung, but not as badly as their weapons would have.
I was so convincing that even my district partner, Hare, assumed I was helpless. He never realised the connection between me and my dad. Maybe he knew dad was a trapper, but he had no idea which trapper dad was. Only Caesar knew the truth, and he dropped it the moment he realised what my plan was.
I guess I got lucky, in a twisted sort of way, that the careers saw me as a pig for the slaughter. Maybe if they'd seen me as a person they'd have realised who my Dad was and what I knew.
But they didn't. That's why I'm here and their lives are over.
For a while I sit here, just quietly watching the trees and field fly by. It's nice, sitting out here at the very back of the train on the outside balcony. Nice chair, a fine mug of tea, no more danger of being killed if they had ever found me… it's nice.
I was luckier still in the arena, really. It was a place that I could live off the land and not need to get much of anything from the Cornucopia until several weeks in. I just had to run away and survive the first fifteen minutes.
I never saw any of the others after that. Maybe that's why I managed to keep my head on straight, because I never saw anybody die or, you know, dying and covered in blood. Not at the bloodbath, not during the early hunts… not even when the careers fell into the traps I'd left all over the place. From my perspective, that last cannon came out of nowhere.
The only blood I'd seen was animals that got caught in traps. It was how I fed myself, so… the blood never bothered me there. Just work as usual.
I swallow hard at the thought of the recap footage. The footage that'll be added to the official DVD of the Fortieth Games. I saw every last Games damned bit of it. The bloodbath deaths and how mangled those poor kids were. The careers hunting most of the rest down like they were scared rats. The careers going from predators to prey and dying in my traps one by one.
I allow myself to throw up over the side of the train when Triumph's death enters my mind. He was the worst of the lot to me, but nobody deserves something like that. Nobody 'deserves' to be in pain.
I sigh, trying to quell my nerves with another sip of tea.
Apparently some are already saying I'm a 'bad victor' as I never once got into a proper fight. I guess I'll let them know when I start caring… probably never, as I'd never apologise for being alive. I never wanted to hurt people, but I was never going to volunteer to die. I still want to grow up, experience new things, maybe have kids of my own… actually, no, forget that. They'd be reaped and die. Maybe I'll just get a hound.
I'm not sure how long I end up staying out here, just gently sipping the tea until I'm using my finger to wipe up the tiniest drops from the bottom of the mug. I guess kind of a while? The sun is starting to set across the plains either side of the train. The golden rays shine down for miles, reflecting off the wetlands that cover maybe around half or so of the ground.
It's beautiful.
They say that when one door opens another closes. Well, a door certainly closed over the past few weeks. I may not have been the biggest victim – I'm alive and hardly got wounded, after all – but I don't think I'm ever going to be the same girl again. Not with the recap footage in my head, six kills to my name, all those cold nights fearing that it'd be the night they'd finally catch me…
But now the Games are over and I never have to fear another reaping. I'd just started coming to terms with the idea of death the other night and now here I am as a victor. I'm going to be having to mentor kids who, just like me, will be scared out of their minds of what may happen to them. I might be able to save their lives.
I find myself starting to smile at the thought of this, already having lots of ideas for ways I can help; for one, teaching them to make punji sticks. The Hunger Games are awful, but if they can't be gotten rid of then at least I can prevent them hurting my District quite so much. I could be so much more than a trapper.
I could be a hero to a kid who needs somebody to look after them. Everybody needs somebody who loves them at least a few times in life, right? Being loved by somebody is what makes life worth living! If being a loving mentor is what my destiny is… I'm ready for it.
"Maybe this is where the next door opens," I whisper, moving to lean against the railings and gaze out at the lovely scenery.
I remain here, just quietly watching the open wetlands until Stallion calls me in for bed. I don't delay in obeying him.
A good sleep sounds lovely right now, right after a few cookies of course.
Katniss and Peeta finished their moment of silence.
"I have no idea how she did it, but six kills… this girl's tougher than she looks," Katniss says. "She must have had some serious skills."
"Just like you did then," Peeta added, smiling.
Katniss and Peeta continued walking further down the sidewalk. They soon came across the next face imprinted into the ground. Both exchanged a grim, uncomfortable glance.
"Ah…" Peeta said, wincing.
"Her…" Katniss said, scowling.
Looking back up at them was the face of an elegant looking girl. Long, incredibly well maintained hair with a clip in it, freckles and a soft smile. What was most striking were her eyes… it's was all too obvious there some sort of insanity, a touch of pure malice within them.
After all, Mascara Court was incapable of things like kindness, love and empathy.
There we have it, Lammy's tale is told! I thought it'd be fun to go with the classic 'tribute of notable skill is assumed to be a pathetic weakling', but this time… tell the story through the POV of tributes who end up dying. Plus, I wanted a victor where they could conceivably win and yet not ever see another tribute outside of the first minute or two. It seemed to me that a harmless looking professional trapper would be the right sort of tribute for this story. Plus, I just find Lammy's flustered, anxious nature to be fun to write about. With Lammy victorious that means the fourth decade has been completed! Keep an eye out for the fifth decade, with several canon victors looming near… and next up, one of the most vicious, cruel victors of them all… O_O
Stats
District 1: Peridot Gaudy (8th Games), Crystal McCree (14th Games), Bronze Marley (19th Games), Crown Martins (24th Games), Dollar Dettwieller (32nd 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), Rhyder Overwhill (39th Games)
District 3: Honorius Perthshire (5th Games), Pi Orbit (22nd Games), Beetee Latier (37th Games)
District 4: Museida Selkirk (3rd Games), Mags Flanagan (11th Games), Tide Luther (23rd Games), Librae Ogilvy (35th Games)
District 5: Shunt Gaspar (12th Games), Isobel Sparks (18th Games), Crimson Flanders (29th Games), Porter Tripp (38th Games)
District 6: Chassis Macalister (31st Games)
District 7: Pliny Aransio (2nd Games), Fir Buzz (9th Games), Jack Tylos (21st Games), Snag Nakamura (34th 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), Laurel Flamsteel (36th Games)
District 10: Stallion March (26th Games), Lammy Phyronix (40th Games)
District 11: Bear Redfoot (15th Games), Seeder Howell (33rd Games)
District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games)