Feeling another round of sweat beading on my brow, I swipe it back into my already greasy hair. My dry tongue doesn't want to cooperate, but I continue to gnaw at the cubes of charred squirrel meat we have set out for dinner. Or tree rat meat, whatever. That's what Katniss and Finnick have decided to call the creature, but it resembles a squirrel enough in appearance and flavor. If you can get past the slightly burned overtone, anyway. But I guess grilling via forcefield is better than eating it raw.
We only discovered this alternative cooking method by chance, when I saved Peeta from being barbequed medium well on our way up the hill as we fled from the Cornucopia. We were leading the charge with Katniss and Finnick at our backs, Mags perched on Finnick's shoulders. Peeta was hacking through vines and underbrush with his machete and was feet from the forcefield when I spotted a vibrating patch of air and yelled at him to stop.
Pointing up toward it, I quietly said, "Katniss, you see that squirrel thing in that tree up ahead? Right there?" There really was a tree rat, or so it appeared, but that wasn't what I was hoping to draw her attention to.
"On it," said Katniss. Bow already loaded, she let an arrow fly into the forcefield. It sizzled and bounced back, landing near my feet.
"What the fuck was that?" Eyes wide, I stepped forward to get a closer look at the forcefield. A moment prior I'd thought I was only saving Peeta a bloody nose, but this was much more sinister.
Katniss was either oblivious to the rhetorical nature of my question or keen to narrate for the audience. "A forcefield. Never seen an electrified one before." As I leaned in and turned my head to listen for a buzz like the one at the electric fence, she gripped my shoulder instinctively. "Don't touch it."
"I wasn't going to touch it. I'm not an idiot."
"Thanks, Johanna," Peeta piped up, grabbing my attention. Clearly rattled, he had to force a smile, but his grateful nod was genuine. "I think you just saved my life."
Giving his cheek a couple pats, I replied, "Don't mention it, kid. Just try not to get yourself killed in the future."
A crunching sound pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up to see Katniss approaching with one of the bowls Finnick and Mags wove out of jungle grass. She shakily lowers herself to the ground beside me and offers me the bowl, which I now see is full of roasted nuts. As I pop a couple in my mouth, she asks, "How're you feeling?"
"Thirsty," I answer immediately. I'm being a bit of a smart ass, admittedly. We started the Games in a saltwater sea this morning but have yet to find a source of fresh water in the arena. Between that, the humid jungle environment, and how we've been walking most of the day, the dehydration is all any of us can think about.
"You're always thirsty," Katniss teases me with a wink.
"Ha," I snort. "Hilarious, sweetie."
Her cracked lips turn up into a grin and she leaves a kiss on my forehead before coaxing me down so my head is resting in her lap. Tongue flitting out over her lips, she remarks, "You taste salty."
I raise a cheeky eyebrow. "More than usual?" Though she's flushed already from the heat and effort of the day, I spy a blush infiltrating her cheeks as her eyes bounce away, teeth playing at her lip. Chuckling lowly, I purr, "And you say I'm the thirsty one."
"Shut up," she grumbles.
"Mm, okay," I agree, promptly rolling onto my side to bury my face in her belly.
"Get a room, you two," Finnick calls from across our campsite, wearing a huge grin I can't see but can definitely hear. Mags's chuckles echo into my ears as well, making me smile. All the others are sitting on mats the Fours also wove out of the long grass, inside the makeshift hut constructed from yet more of said mats. For people Katniss wasn't planning on allying with, they have certainly proven useful. Bedding, shelter, food storage. Too bad they can't make water out of jungle grass.
We're all crammed into the three-walled hut when the anthem starts, and we watch silently as the faces of nine of our comrades flash before our eyes. Nobody I know well. No one speaks for several moments after, not until a parachute falls from the sky and lands a couple yards outside the hut. I'm confused at first when I open it and find a spile, because while I've tapped some trees in my day I don't much see the point of making maple syrup in the arena. But while I'm explaining to the others what it's for, the dots connect.
We pick a tree and stab it several times with Mags's awl, then use knives to widen the hole before I wiggle the spile in. It takes a moment, but finally water starts trickling out. We manage to get a steady stream going and start filling bowls, first to slake our thirst and then to splash water over our sweaty faces. By the time we decide to settle down for the night, our bodies feel close to restored. That's unlikely to last in the arena, but for now it's a welcome feeling.
Peeta offers to take first watch and I curl up with Katniss. Sort of. Neither of us wants to let go of our weapons, and her bow and sheath are not exactly conducive to cuddling. I end up gathering my pair of battle axes into my chest and strapping my knives and throwing hatchet all to one leg so I can lie on my other side less than a foot behind her, close enough to feel her warmth. It's comforting even in spite of the stifling heat of the jungle. Already thoroughly exhausted, I pass out hard within minutes.
It's Katniss's voice that snaps me back into consciousness several hours later. All the times I got people to scare me awake in preparation for this kind of situation end up paying off - I'm on my feet the second I hear the order to run. Peeta is a little groggier but Katniss and I together pull him to his feet and thrust him out of the hut. Finnick is already fleeing, Mags tossed over his shoulder like a rag doll.
"What is it? What is it?" asks a bleary and bewildered Peeta as we start to run.
"Some kind of fog. Poisonous gas. Hurry, Peeta!"
Hearing this, I chance a look over my shoulder and feel my stomach seize in fear. A uniform wall of thick fog is rolling toward us, already engulfing the hut we occupied only seconds ago. When I blink back to Katniss I notice her favoring one foot and wincing as the underbrush thwacks at our legs. She's in a lot of pain, that much is clear. Though she's in excellent shape, she has to stop within a few minutes, clinging to a tree as she gasps for air. This gives me the chance to locate her injury, a nasty chemical burn on the outside of her right calf. I can see the blisters through her drysuit, which has started to disintegrate over the same spot. Checking her over quickly I find an even worse burn on her right arm and the back of her shoulder. "You're hurt. Why didn't you tell me?"
Even panting and shaky, Katniss manages some sass. "Didn't seem like the most important news to pass on at the time."
For once, I'm not in the mood for verbal sparring. Read the room, Katniss. "Did it sneak up on you when you were sleeping?"
"No, it got me because I stopped to wake you guys up." She holds my gaze only a couple seconds before glancing over her shoulder, confirming the fog is closing in on us again. "Come on, let's move."
Peeta's doubling back now and his forehead creases in concern as he closes the gap and takes in her deteriorating state. "Katniss, you need help?"
"I'm fine," she insists, continuing to hobble on.
She's probably still moving fast enough on her own, but the encroaching fog at our backs is making me nervous. I'm sharing a concerned look with Peeta over her shoulder when Finnick comes back into view, still carrying Mags. "Are you guys okay?" he calls as he jogs back our way.
Steeling her expression, Katniss answers, "We're coming, Finnick. It's fine. I'm fine." One look at her and Finnick can tell she is very much not fine. Without further discussion he slides Mags off his shoulders and scoops Katniss up. "No, put me down!" she protests, though she barely tries to fight him off.
Finnick doesn't listen to her, slinging her over his shoulders like she weighs nothing. Starting down the slope on a diagonal, he instructs us to carry Mags for him. We trade off a few times on the way down the hill, but it's Peeta that's carrying her when we hear Katniss's piercing scream from the beach. Exchanging a look, we sprint for the treeline some twenty yards ahead. As we stumble onto the sand we see Katniss struggling in the water and Finnick standing above her. Dropping my axes, I snatch the spare bow that's hooked over Peeta's shoulder and draw an arrow from the accompanying sheath.
"Finnick!" I shout as I barrel towards them. His head snaps up and I stop, pulling the bowstring tighter as I aim it at his chest. "What are you doing?" I demand.
"Water is good for burns," he says simply, eyebrow cocked at my threatening stance. "Relax, Agent. It's helping." As I come closer, I realize he's right. Her pained shrieks have already quieted to a kind of dazed moaning. Joining them in the salt water, I see a milky substance leeching out of her wounds.
"It's drawing it out," I observe.
"Oh, you have eyes," sasses Finnick, and I throw him an irritated glance. "You're welcome, by the way."
Biting my lip, I return my gaze to Katniss. "I'm sorry. It looked bad from the beach."
"I'm sure it did. But we're supposed to trust each other, aren't we?" he posits. Meeting his eyes once again, I give him a curt nod of agreement. "Is Mags okay?"
"Think so."
"Good." With that, he wades out of the water, leaving us alone.
Though I feel a slight niggling of guilt, his feelings and our tenuous alliance are not at the top of my give-a-shit list right now. Haymitch would want me to play nice, I suppose, set a good example for Katniss. She was not pleased when Finnick showed up wearing Haymitch's flame bangle this morning and she realized she was being forced into an alliance against her will. She seems to have warmed up to him a little since, though, given he's been contributing and hasn't tried to kill us yet.
Feeling fingers stroking my forearm through my drysuit, I return my attention to the girl I'm cradling in the water. "Hey. Feeling better?"
Her eyes flutter and she manages something like a smile. "Yeah."
"I'm not leaving this time," I assure her. "I got you."
"I'm fine," she insists, though the rawness of her throat does little to convince me. Her eyes flick past me and she nods in the direction we came from. "Look." Turning my head, I see the fog is thickening a short ways down the beach. It almost looks like it's pressing up against a windowpane that's forcing it to condense, right next to where the sand strip leading to the Cornucopia extends into the water. As we watch, it seems to be vacuumed up into the sky.
"It's only on that side of the sand strip," I conclude. "Just stay over here and we'll be fine."
I probably shouldn't have spoken so soon. When Finnick and Peeta return to the woods to tap another tree, they get attacked by a pack of shrieking orange monkeys and we have to run in and rescue them. The monkeys don't follow us onto the beach, so after that we decide to stay here for the time being lest we run into another one of the Gamemakers' traps. Since I got a few solid hours of sleep before the fog and am so revved up I don't think I could sleep even if I wanted to, I offer to take a watch.
There are no signs of life, or death, for hours. Dawn starts to break but I don't bother waking the others. I kind of like watching the sun rise in peace. My zen is rudely interrupted, however, by screaming in the distance. Then a cannon. Several moments later a hovercraft appears and plucks a body out of the jungle a ways to my left, dipping down several times to collect all the pieces. My stomach turns and I make a mental note to avoid that area of the jungle at all costs. A few quiet minutes later, a couple of figures stumble onto the beach below it.
"Shit," I hiss quietly. Still, it's enough for Katniss to hear me. Stirring in my lap, she squints up at me.
"What?" she mumbles.
I consider waking the whole group and urging them to retreat into the treeline, but at this point movement would only draw attention. Plus I'm not keen on a round two with the monkeys from hell. "Stay down," I whisper, keeping a keen eye on our new neighbors.
Katniss doesn't move except to cup a hand around my knee, but I feel her stiffen a little as she prepares to react to the unknown threat. Well, maybe they aren't much of a threat. They appear disoriented and panicked, which I can't really blame them for given they were just running from the Careers or some variety of Capitol mutts. Only moments after they appear they run back into the jungle, making my brow furrow. I'm starting to think the scare has passed when they reappear, dragging a third tribute along the ground by their wrists. One of the walking figures drops to the sand to tend to the wounded one while the other drags a hand through her long hair and starts pacing. My eyes widen and body relaxes as I take in more details. Her height, her imposing silhouette, the way her body moves. I'd know that physique anywhere.
Easing Katniss's head off my lap with a quick kiss, I grab my battle axes and start jogging down the beach. I don't want to call out to her from far away and risk drawing unwanted attention to myself, but as I draw near Scar sees me. She tenses for a second until she gets a good look at me, then sighs in relief. She's wounded too, as I close in I spy lacerations on her right upper arm and left cheek. They're barely bleeding, but my forehead creases in concern anyway. Striding forward to meet me, Scar greets me with an anxious expression. "Jo, thank god. We need a medic."
That much I had gathered from down the beach, but I wasn't sure the wounded tribute was anyone worth saving. Now I see it's Wiress sprawled on her back in the sand, a deep gash in her thigh. Beetee's pressing down on the wound, but I motion for him to scootch over and move his hands away so I can get a better look. "Doesn't look like it hit any major vessels," I determine. "She's lucky. But we need to stop the bleeding." As Beetee resumes putting pressure on the gash, I glance up at Scar and ask, "Anything we could use for bandages?" It's a stupid question. We saw during the bloodbath that there was nothing at the Cornucopia but piles and piles of weapons.
Scar doesn't mock me for this, as I halfway expect. Instead she squints and tells me, "Hang on." She disappears into the jungle and returns a minute later with an armful of moss. We kneel in the sand and dress the wound with it, and between the moss and Beetee's hands, we get the bleeding under control.
With that taken care of, I turn my attention to Scar's wounds. Gripping her chin, I turn her head to get a better view of her cheek. One of my fingers trails down her jawbone as I ask, "Who attacked you? Mutts or humans?"
"Mutts," she grunts with a shudder. "Huge ones, hands like knives. Blight got ripped to shreds."
My forehead crinkles. "What were you doing with Blight?"
"I don't know, ask Haymitch. It was part of the deal." This makes me squint in confusion, and that's when I spot the golden ring dangling from a cord on her neck. I recognize it immediately as the one Effie tried to give me the other night, if only because of Haymitch's stunt with his bangle. Scar must've also earned his seal of approval, though I'm at a loss as to how.
"Right," I concur with a nod.
Scar's eyes narrow. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
I shrug sheepishly. "I was the one who tried to convince Haymitch to let you into the fold. Just surprised he did it behind my back, that's all." Scar's opening her mouth to answer when her face changes. My hands fly to my hatchet and knives before I've even turned my head to see who's approaching from behind me. My shoulders relax as I recognize the four other members of my group, until I realize Katniss's bow is armed and pointed right at us. "Katniss, what the fuck?"
Ignoring both me and a very confused Beetee, Katniss addresses only Scar as she stalks ever closer. "Get the hell away from her," she growls, a dark and menacing look on her face.
"Hey, whoa," says Scar, raising one hand as she stands from her crouch. The gesture of innocence contrasts the knife tucked between the thumb and forefinger of her other hand, ready to fly. "Chill, fireball."
Seeing the growing tension in Katniss's jaw and the way she stretches the bowstring a little tighter, I act on impulse and stand up directly between them. "Katniss," I say calmly. "Put the bow down."
Katniss does no such thing. "You're an idiot, Hanna," she snaps as she stops not ten feet away, eyes still squarely on Scar. "We're in the arena, for fuck's sake. How do you know she's not going to hurt you?"
"Uh, 'cause we're allies?" Scar butts in. When Katniss's face morphs in confusion, hers falls. "Haymitch made the whole thing up, didn't he? Figured he'd divide and conquer the Careers?"
"What?" asks a clearly bewildered Katniss.
"Haymitch told me you said you'd only let me into your alliance if I brought you Nuts and Volts." Hooking a thumb through the cord around her neck, Scar flashes the ring and adds, "He gave me this the night of the interviews, to prove we collaborated."
Squinting suspiciously, Katniss demands, "Why would you want into my alliance?"
"Jo, obviously," Scar replies, bringing a scowl to Katniss's face. "Besides, I'd rather not be your enemy."
Katniss scoffs. "This is the arena. Everyone's an enemy."
"Not until the end. In theory." Tipping her head, Scar twirls the knife in her fingers. Despite her confident demeanor, I can hear the betrayal and sadness lurking in her tone as she says, "So are we gonna have it out right here, then? Me versus the five of you?"
"No," I declare. "You did what was asked of you. I don't know about Haymitch, but Katniss and I honor our deals."
"This wasn't my deal," huffs Katniss. When I give her a look, she sighs and finally lets her bow go slack. "Fine, whatever. Hanna was right, you could be useful," she admits to Scar. "And I'd rather have you on our side than not."
Scar's eyes narrow as she scowls back at her. "Pardon me if I'm not convinced."
Snorting, Katniss catches my eye and grumbles, "Don't tell me I didn't make an effort."
Beetee, who has wisely been silent until this point, takes one hand off the makeshift dressing long enough to gesture up at Scar. "You've got a strong ally in this one," he assures Katniss. "She saved me. I almost took a knife in the back at the Cornucopia."
"Of course she saved you," Katniss replies flatly. "Couldn't let the leverage die." With a final pointed look at her imposed ally, Katniss turns and strides back to where the rest of our group has stopped some twenty yards behind her, staying clear of the conflict.
"Not great at making friends, is she?" Scar remarks at her back.
***o***
Katniss actually proves Scar wrong, believe it or not. As always, it's someone who needs protecting who draws the nurturing side out of her. When Wiress regains consciousness and starts babbling nonsensical phrases, Katniss joins Beetee by her side and squeezes one of her hands, talking to her softly in an attempt to calm her down. Once she's gone quiet, Katniss continues distracting her by explaining the trials we endured overnight to her and Beetee. While she appears to be processing the information, Wiress doesn't answer. Beetee says she's in shock, which is probably true.
Though she tries to stay positive for Wiress, Katniss's bad mood is intensified by the itching of her own wounds, which have now scabbed over. She starts scratching several times only to catch herself and scowl. When Mags comes over to relieve her at Wiress's side, she goes for a float to try to ease her discomfort. I guess it doesn't work that well, because after a while she stomps up on the beach and shouts at the sky, "Hey, Haymitch, if you're not too drunk, I could use a little something for my skin."
A tube of ointment falls from the sky almost immediately. Though she tries to maintain her scowl, I can tell she's trying to suppress a chuckle as she plucks it from the air. I wander over while she's unscrewing the cap and very quickly wish I hadn't as I get a whiff of the pungent medicine. Even more disgusting is how it looks, gray-green gobs the consistency of jelly. Katniss sighs in relief as she rubs it into her scabby right arm, but I can't help a grimace. "That's disgusting. You look like you have gangrene."
Katniss snorts her agreement, but the ointment must really be helping because she continues applying it. Finishing up with her shoulder, she bends over to rub it into her lower leg. I notice her squeezing another glob onto her fingers as she straightens up, but it doesn't occur to me what it's for until her hand snaps out and slaps it onto my cheek.
"Ew!" Recoiling with a shudder, I swipe it away. While I'm grimacing at the sight of the putrid jelly staining my fingers, Katniss cackles gleefully. I meet her grinning eyes with a threatening albeit playful glare. "Oh, you think that's funny?" She nods, a nervous titter escaping her lips as I take a menacing half step toward her. Her muscles are tensing to run as my clean left hand shoots out and yanks her back by her wrist. Grabbing her by the chin, I rub our cheeks together and smear the rest down her neck. Katniss squeals in disgust, laughing and struggling in my grip but not really trying to escape. And she says she doesn't know how to flirt.
Fisting the base of her braid in my left hand, I pull her assertively into the kiss she's angling for. She complies with eager lips, her kisses hard considering we're both still laughing. I register a whistle from the treeline but ignore it, deepening the kiss as my mucky hand roams downward from her collarbone. Her eyes narrow, and in an instant my legs are swept from under me and I land on my back in the sand, Katniss now looming over me on her hands and knees wearing a pompous smirk. Much of the air has been knocked from my lungs, but I manage a scoff with what's left. "That's how it's gonna be, huh?"
"Uh huh."
"Feels like the old days," I remark. Tangling our legs in one swift move, I duck my head under her arm and use the leverage to roll onto her. Snatching her wrists as she tries to fight me off, I flash a cocky grin. "Remember the gym at the barracks?"
Katniss chuckles through her grunts of effort. "You mean when you threatened to violate me?"
"I did not threaten your underage ass," I huff. "Get the story straight, Everdeen."
"Why? Afraid the audience will think you're one of those Peacekeepers?" She's right and she knows it. As I open my mouth to argue she wrests control back, jamming her tongue through my lips and rolling us twice to land me on my back right at the water's edge.
"Hey!" I protest into her mouth, but I'm already sliding a hand up her cheek to weave into the long bangs framing her face. She's won, but I'm so enjoying her warmth and weight pressing into me as the waves lap at my side that I don't really care.
"Uh, you two need us to leave you alone?" Scar teases us from up the beach. "We can come back."
"Don't bother," Peeta calls loud enough for us to hear him. "They're always like this."
Scar responds, "That's gross," but she doesn't sound particularly disgusted. Probably enjoying the show, like the rest of the country. Maybe we should be self-conscious, but this will certainly boost our popularity in the Capitol and maybe even the districts, so I'm sure Haymitch is happy for me to let this go on. And it does, until the ground beneath me begins to vibrate.
It occurs to me that this might signal a new threat to be wary of, but I'm so enjoying myself I ignore it for a fleeting moment. But the tremor swells into a rumble and a loud roar begins filling our ears. Katniss's eyes flick up and she quickly disengages, nodding behind me and to her right. "Johanna, look."
Cursing the timing of the arena gods, I lift and crank my head all the way to the left to get a look. A ways down the beach, a massive wave is cresting down a section of the jungle. It appears to be walled in much like the fog, but when it crashes into the water it sends a huge current swell out in every direction. Katniss and I scramble to our feet as the surf bubbles up around us while the others grab our weapons and bowls of fresh water and shellfish before they are swept out to sea. Beetee's first priority is securing a spool of wire he's been fiddling with, so even he doesn't think to shield Wiress until the wave washes over her. Seeing her go under, I run to where she lies near the treeline. "Shit!"
I'm not the only one feeling guilty. Our whole pack gathers around as a startled and thoroughly soaked Wiress spits out a mouthful of water. The violent coughing that ensues pulls her up into a halfway sitting position, and Katniss and Scar each grab one of her upper arms to help hold her up. "Wiress?" Scar calls gently. "You all right?"
Wiress doesn't acknowledge any of us. Bracing her weight on her elbows, she peers past our concerned faces into the arena. "Tick tock," she murmurs inwardly. Then her eyes light up and she snatches Beetee's arm. Pointing out into the arena, she urgently repeats, "Tick tock! Tick tock!"
Beetee slowly straightens up, a realization dawning on his face. "She's right."
"What?" Peeta asks dumbly.
"The arena is a clock," he explains. "It's broken into twelve wedges demarcated by the sand strips. Each of the wedges hold a different threat, but they're only active during their hour on the clock." Pointing at various wedges as he goes, Beetee recounts, "Lightning at midnight, then two wedges over the fog at two o'clock. Next is the monkeys at three o'clock. Six o'clock is the razorhands." Sensing some confusion among the group, he points out, "It's around ten-thirty now, and the wave hit four wedges away." Sitting back on his heels with a satisfied smirk, he concludes, "You can bet we'll see the lightning again within a couple hours."
The rest of us are still silent, either connecting the dots ourselves or stunned at Wiress's intellect. Finally Finnick speaks for all of us. "Wiress, you're a genius."
Wiress nods, a relieved smile on her face. "Clock. Yes." She gestures into the jungle. "Six."
"You're right. We'd better not be here at six o'clock," Katniss agrees, giving her shoulder a light squeeze before standing up. She wanders down the thin strip of beach and slowly turns, taking in the entire arena. She's clearly deep in thought, but I can't take her entirely seriously because she still has that disgusting ointment smeared on her face. Taking note, I grab a handful of sand and scrub away what's left on my own cheek.
Satisfied, I return my gaze to my girlfriend and notice another parachute falling from the sky. "Katniss!" I call out, pointing up at the basket that's going to bonk her on the head within seconds.
Katniss glances upward and steps back, allowing the package to fall into her hands. Since the rest of us are still gathered around Wiress, she walks back to join us and kneels on the ground with the basket, which turns out to be full of bread rolls. Her brow furrows as she plucks one from the pile. "Hey, I remember these from the Training Center." Turning to me, she asks, "They're from District Two, right?"
"I guess, yeah. My dad used to make something like this." Examining the puffy crust and intricate design carved into the top, I remark, "His weren't nearly as good, though."
Scar chuckles beside me. "Lousy cook?"
"Lousy house husband." Catching her eye, I admit, "You're the only one from Two, technically speaking. My guess is they're for you."
"We're allies," shrugs Scar. "They're for all of us." She throws a pointed look across the circle at Katniss, who either doesn't notice or is pretending not to notice. Probably the latter.
"How many are there?" asks Finnick, peering closely. Pulling them from the basket one by one, he arranges them neatly in one of the bowls as he silently counts them off. "Twenty-four," he announces.
"An even two dozen, then?" says Beetee.
"Twenty-four on the nose," he confirms. "That divides perfectly."
The bread nicely compliments all the seafood the Fours have caught, and now that we are all but certain we don't have to fear the beasts in the jungle it's much less nerve-wracking to get water. It's not a bad meal - really, we've eaten very well since landing in the arena. My group has, anyway. The others have been consuming more food and water since we joined forces, so I assume they had sparser pickings. Curious about their exploits pre slice-and-dice, I plunk down in the sand beside Scar after she and Finnick return with another bowl of water.
"The razor mutts were the first enemies we saw after the bloodbath," she admits after some coaxing. Nibbling on her cheek, she adds, "I had a chance to throw a knife at Brutus but I didn't want to give away I was breaking from the alliance until we were off and running."
"Probably smart," I say.
"Yeah," she muses. "Gloss and Cashmere would've come for me, right? Wouldn't want to let me get away if I wasn't in their pack."
"Absolutely," I concur. "They know how valuable you are."
Scar snorts under her breath. "Glad someone does."
Softly nudging her ribs, I advise her, "Don't mind Katniss. She can be an insufferable ass sometimes." That makes her chuckle, a small smile forming on her lips. Smiling in turn, I elaborate, "Besides, she's in pain and that always makes her extra cranky. You should see her when she's on the rag."
That culls a big laugh from Scar, one that grabs the attention of the entire camp. I catch a glimpse of a jealous glower from Katniss before she returns to her conversation with Peeta, but I don't feel bad. Frustrated, yes. But not bad. Scar's muscular arm circles around my shoulder and gives me a friendly squeeze. "God, I've missed you, Jo."
I return her grin. "Back atcha, Beanstalk." A moment passes and I decide I'd better move on. Thumping my fist against her thigh a couple times, I tell her, "But I should probably go sit with my girlfriend before she decides to murder you."
"Appreciated," agrees Scar. "You do that."
Crossing to the Twelves, I fill them in on everything Scar told me about her group's lack of parachutes and human enemies so far. Mostly just so they know that wasn't entirely a social call. Now is not the time to throw my ultimate loyalties into question.
A short time later we hear the first crack of thunder and the lightning show begins across the water. We only get to watch for about ten minutes though, because Beetee calls us all over to where he's sitting with Wiress. It seems while the rest of us have been watching the lightning storm for entertainment, it's caused something of a revelation for him. Since the lightning seems to always start by hitting the one tall tree in particular, he wants to run the wire from it down the hill to electrify the sea when the next storm starts at midnight. Since the sand will still be damp from the ten-thirty wave, he posits anyone on the beach will also get fried. And because the jungle holds a whole host of horrors, he predicts that if we leave the beach other tributes will be more likely to brave the shore to escape and scavenge for food.
Lacking the technical knowledge to evaluate the science part of his plan, I focus on what I do know: how humans behave in the arena. We've definitely established ourselves as the powerhouse pack of this Games, openly hanging out on the beach in broad daylight. We have eight of the remaining fourteen tributes, and even if one is crippled and one is old, it would be stupid to attack us. On the other hand, with three weaker tributes to protect we don't have a lot of manpower to spare on hunting the others down. So, luring the others into an area they think is safe probably is our best option to mount an attack.
All that aside, I know the Threes are integral to the rebel plot and therefore the escape plan, so even if I didn't agree I'm probably better off blindly following whatever plans they cook up. Though this one sounds a little harebrained, none of us are in a position to argue except Wiress and she seems rather pleased, smiling broadly while clapping her hands in excitement. If only I could still muster such enthusiasm about killing people. There's a lot of questions, but the pack agrees unanimously that we might as well try it. If nothing else, it will take the seafood out of the equation and we aren't depending on it like the others might be.
"Okay then, let's pack up," concludes Beetee. "If we wait until the lightning's over and head right there, it might look suspicious. We can cross into the jungle in the eleven o'clock zone and head up from there."
"What if we get lost?" I point out. "All the wedges look the same. If we're in the jungle we could easily miss the right tree."
"We won't," says Peeta. Gesturing at the Cornucopia, he points out, "The tail points to twelve. See?" I do see. Though I don't particularly like being outsmarted by Peeta, his observation does make me feel a little better. "If we get lost, we can just climb the tall tree in our sector and check if it's pointing at us."
"Very observant, Peeta," Beetee praises him, though it wouldn't surprise me if he had already noticed this himself.
Seeing as Wiress is in worse shape than her, Mags tells Finnick she'll walk so he can carry her on his shoulders instead. At least, I think that's what she says. Her speech is pretty garbled. Finnick assents but he quickly fashions a branch into a walking stick for her to replace the one we lost in the fog. Even if she can't make it up the hill once we get that far, we have no shortage of physically strong tributes who can trade off packhorse duties. Until that becomes necessary, the four of us agree one should lead and two should flank Finnick and the others while the fourth watches everyone's backs.
"I'll take the lead," offers Peeta.
I throw him a teasing smirk from across our little circle. "So you can grill yourself on the forcefield?"
"I'll be more careful this time," he assures me, and I can't help rolling my eyes a little. He's a pretty decent fighter, but Peeta has an inexplicable knack for walking straight into danger. Like a forcefield, or a pack of rabid monkeys. "I'm serious," he insists. "I'll toss nuts ahead of us when we get close, make sure I'm not walking straight into it."
"I doubt Volts would appreciate that," deadpans Katniss.
A surprised laugh bursts from Scar's lips and I release a low chuckle, giving Katniss's shoulder an affectionate shake. She flashes a self-satisfied smirk at both of us. Peeta looks confused for a moment, but finally he snorts as he clues in. "Yeah, I'll try not to fry anyone but myself."
"And your nuts," cracks Scar.
That sets off another round of giggles and Peeta does his best to glare at all of us. "All right, I get it. Hilarious. You ladies laugh all you want."
"We will!" I call after him as he goes to join less hostile company in Finnick and Mags. The unadulterated pleasure I get from teasing him is not the only reason I'm grinning as I turn back to Katniss and Scar. At least for the moment, we're all getting along. Sometimes all it takes to form an alliance is a common enemy. Or a common person to pester. They're far from making friendship bracelets, but it's a step in the right direction.
As our shared snickers die down, Scar takes a moment to check over her weapons before we move out. In addition to an impressive array of knives, she's armed with a short sword and a lethal-looking war hammer. Melee weapons were always her favorite. "I'll bring up the rear, then," she asserts as she slides the sword back into its sheath. She looks up with a smirk. "Let you lovebirds stick together."
Katniss scoffs. "Not a chance."
The sudden tension in the air is undeniable, but Scar raises her eyebrows rather impassively. "You think I wanted into your pack so I could kill you?"
"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, isn't that what they say?" Tossing a dismissive nod in my direction, Katniss remarks, "Lucky you already have an in."
Katniss badmouthing Scar is nothing new, but the devaluation of our friendship and the implication that she's using me is enough to make me snap. "Katniss, don't be a dick." My warning glare does little to mask my frustration as I demand, "What is your problem?"
"I'm confused, is all." Catching Scar's eye, Katniss gestures flippantly at the ring hanging from her neck. "Haymitch told me to remember who the enemy is, yet he gave you that."
Scar's eyes deliberately drag from me to Katniss. "Have something against Careers, Katniss?"
"I have something against Careers who torture other tributes," she pronounces.
"I never tortured anyone," protests Scar.
"You stood watch while the others did."
"So I wouldn't have to participate," Scar explains. Judging by the look on her face, this is not the first time she's had this conversation.
Katniss is having none of it. "You did, though. You were complicit. You just turned your back and let it happen."
"And you expected me to, what? Abandon the pack and all their supplies? Take all five of them on myself and make it on my own?" demands Scar. "I'm not going to apologize for doing what I had to to survive."
"What you had to? You volunteered!"
"So did you."
"To save my sister. I'm not like you guys," snaps Katniss. Ouch. She doesn't see me wince, all her attention on Scar. Tipping her head, she taunts her, "Why'd you volunteer, Beanstalk? So your mommy and daddy would love you more?"
That knife she just sunk under my ribs twists inside of me. Scar, for her part, barely blinks. "My daddy's dead, Katniss. Same as yours."
Katniss takes a dangerous step closer and I have to hold her back. "Katniss, no. We need her."
"We sure as fuck don't."
"I need you," I rephrase. "And no offense, but she could rip your head off with her bare hands."
"Let her try. At least this would be a fair fight." Katniss's eyes narrow as they zero in on her prey. "Unlike Toley, for instance. Remember him, Scar? Your first kill?"
Bullseye. Scar's face pales and pain flashes in her eyes, then they lose focus altogether. It takes a few seconds for her jaw to tighten, eyelids fluttering over rapidly reddening eyes. Her hands clench into fists and I step in to block her way this time, but Scar doesn't try to throw a punch. She just swallows hard and glares at Katniss. "Jo's right, you're fucking insufferable. You and your high and mighty bullshit." The closest she gets to physical aggression is brushing by too close to Katniss as she storms off, giving her shoulder a deliberate bump.
As Scar stalks away, Katniss casts a glare at me. "What?" I protest. "You kind of are."
"You seriously told her that?" she snaps.
My shoulders shrug up to my chin while my hands try to shove themselves into my hip pockets, only to remember I don't have any. "I was trying to make her feel better. I didn't really mean it."
"Then why did you agree with her just now?"
Good point. Though it may be ill-advised, I answer honestly. "Because you're being a bitch for no reason."
Scolding me with her eyes, Katniss tips her head deliberately. "Nice, Hanna," she says flatly.
I sigh to myself as Katniss starts up the beach. "Fuck." Giving chase, I raise my voice to normal levels. "Katniss. Katniss, wait." She's still wearing that thoroughly unimpressed look as she turns back my way, and that makes me swallow the apology that was on my lips. High and mighty bullshit, indeed. But the inquiry I make is still earnest. "I've said worse than that to your face. Why are you so upset?"
"Because you're taking her side," Katniss says immediately, as though this should be obvious.
Though I can hear the hints of hurt and frustration in her tone, I am equally frustrated with her. "I don't want there to be any sides, that's the point. I just want us to get along until… until we have to break apart." Katniss's eyes flick away with a tiny nod, signalling she knows what I really mean. Dragging fingers through my hair, I remind her, "We're supposed to be allies, anyway. Haymitch gave her the ring for a reason."
Lifting her eyes once more, Katniss levels a pregnant stare at me. "Are you sure it was Haymitch?" The implication is clear, and insulting.
My eyes narrow. "I was with you that entire night, in case you've forgotten." Stepping closer, I brush some hair behind her ear and purr, "And I'm sure you haven't."
Her face darkens in a way that makes my gut thrum. She's about to either kiss me or slap me when Peeta calls out to us from the treeline. "Katniss. We're leaving."
Katniss keeps up that stare a few seconds longer, as if to make a point, before disengaging entirely. "I'll take rear guard," she announces loud enough for everyone to hear, with nary a glance at me. "Makes the most sense to have a sniper at your backs."
We make decent time along the shore, considering. We arrive at the eleven o'clock beach soon enough after the lightning ends to still feel the charge in the air, the hair on Peeta and Beetee's arms standing on end. They were the only ones allowed to keep it, apparently. When we cross into the jungle and encounter the upward slope, however, things slow down. It's only minutes before Mags tugs Scar's arm and asks to be carried. Beetee's not at his physical peak either, and Scar and Finnick are carrying a substantial amount of extra weight each. We need to rest every twenty minutes, if not more often. At least we have a never ending supply of fresh water, thanks to Haymitch and our generous sponsors.
During one such break, we stick the spile in a large tree and let it run long after we've collected enough drinking water. The afternoon heat is oppressive and sapping energy from all of us, and we take turns letting the water pour over our bodies and flopping on the jungle floor. Finnick's had the most rest of any of the capable fighters, so he offers to take a watch. I manage to get a short nap in, though I'm woken before long by Wiress's airy voice. As I blink myself awake, I see her happily splashing in the water with Peeta while she quietly sings some nursery rhyme about a mouse running up a clock.
Chuckling inwardly, I turn my head and see Katniss lounging against a tree a few feet from my head. "Hey you," I yawn.
She smiles and nudges my skull with her toe. "Morning, sleepyhead."
"I miss anything?"
She shrugs. "Only Finnick hitting on Peeta again."
"Typical," I snort.
As I sit up, Peeta strolls over to where Beetee is sitting with Finnick on a downed tree. He shakes the water from his hair then runs a hand through it, and for a second I can't blame Finnick one bit. I definitely flirted with him too the first time I met him, but to be fair that was before I knew how fucking tiresome he can be. Thankfully he doesn't notice my gaze, nodding instead at the other guys. "How much farther do you figure, Beetee?"
Beetee squints up at him through smudged and foggy glasses. "I'm not sure, honestly. We never made it to the top of our wedge."
"We're going up on a diagonal this time," Finnick points out. "I'd say we still have at least another hour to go at this rate."
Groaning my displeasure, I flop back in the jungle soil. Katniss's deep, throaty chuckle reaches my ears as she ruffles my hair. "So dramatic," she says.
"Too bad we can't see the Cornucopia from here," Peeta comments.
"Yes, it would help us determine the angle to hike," agrees Beetee. "Though it will likely make the journey longer, it may be prudent to hike straight up now, make sure we find the forcefield before we inadvertently pass the tree."
"That's what I said back at camp," I grumble to myself.
Meanwhile, Peeta nods his agreement with Beetee. "I'll get some more nuts."
The words are barely out of his mouth when I pipe up, "Yeah, better reload your nutsack!" Peeta gives me a look as the rest of the group shares a chuckle. Scar has barely said a word since the altercation with Katniss but even she smiles. Shooting Finnick a lascivious smirk, I suggest, "Finnick, wanna give him a hand?" I think that double entendre went over most of their heads, but not his. He winks back at me just as he cracks the shell of a nut in his teeth.
Suddenly I feel Katniss stiffen from a couple feet away. I'm on my feet in an instant, axes primed to throw, and in that time Katniss has already loosed an arrow from where she sits on her butt. It pierces the bark of the tree we tapped, narrowly missing Gloss's head as he dodges out of the way. That's when I see Wiress in his grasp, blood pouring from her slit throat. Gloss still wields the bloody knife but he's holding it in a defensive position rather than trying to bury it in one of us. Holding Wiress against him as a shield, he ducks behind the tree and takes off.
I'm flabbergasted for a couple seconds, staring at the crumpled body beside the tree as her cannon fires. Picking off the weakest member of a group and then retreating is not a Career move. It's a waste of the element of surprise and not worth the risk of being killed. Not unless there's something else of value in play...
Katniss figures it out at the same instant I do. "He took the spile," she says, jumping to her feet.
She's off and running by the time I have the chance to call out, "Katniss, wait!" Even if this isn't intended to be a trap, where else would Gloss go than back to his allies? "You're gonna get yourself killed!" I holler as I take off in pursuit.
It definitely was meant to be a trap. Gloss zigzags through a variety of trees to obscure Katniss's sightline but keeps the same general trajectory, guiding her on a more or less straight path until Brutus steps out from behind a large tree and trips her. As she sprawls on the ground, Cashmere drops out of a tree and just about lands on my head. I can hear Peeta's heavy footfalls behind me, so I tuck and roll before she can get her hands on me and keep running, leaving him to deal with her. Katniss meanwhile has rolled to avoid Brutus's sword driving into the ground and now jumps to her feet. He's about to take another swing at her when I reach him, so he has to use his sword to fend off my axe instead.
I'm just starting to feel good about our chances when Gloss comes screaming back into the fray sporting a pair of knuckle knives. He angles me off, forcing me to go through him if I want to help my girlfriend. I'm naturally quicker but my weapons are heavier, so we mostly end up in a swiping standoff. But Katniss is in trouble. Brutus has knocked her bow away and she's fending him off with only one knife. It's a long one, but no match for a sword and a dagger. And as strong as she's gotten for her size, she still can't match his brute strength in close quarters.
I'm watching over Gloss's shoulder as Brutus makes his move. When Katniss steps back to avoid a swipe with his sword, he lunges forward. It's all one fluid motion, yet time seems to slow as I watch him ram his shoulder into her chest, slam her against a tree, and drive the dagger into the left side of her chest.
My jaw is slipping open and the blood draining from my head, but I have no time to reflect on this turn of events because my distraction for those short seconds has already given Gloss a chance to strike. I barely dodge his haymaker and get nicked on the cheek as the blade goes by, but the opening he leaves as he completes the swing allows me to kick him away and get a few feet of separation. Reckless as it is, I'm about to attempt a run at Brutus when Scar appears out of nowhere and rips him off of Katniss. Brutus is caught off guard but it's still impressive how effortlessly she throws him to the ground. My eyes flick back to Katniss in time to see her sliding down the tree in shock, clutching the dagger still lodged in her upper chest.
Every muscle in my body wants to run to her, but I still have Gloss to contend with. My emotions finally catch up and a searing anger shoots through me. When he attempts a left-handed jab I duck and backhand swing my left axe into the back of his calf. He cries out and falls to one knee and I swiftly backhand the other up into his stomach. It's over that quickly. Maybe I would be inclined to deliver a death blow and end his suffering in other circumstances, but I leave my battle axes in his crumpling form and run to Katniss.
Skidding to a stop at the tree, I drop to my knees at Katniss's left side. She's struggling for breath with wide eyes, so I grasp her hand and tell her, "Breathe, baby. Breathe." Coaxing both hands away from the knife, I get a closer look and breathe a heavy sigh of relief. The knife is stuck a couple inches at most under her collarbone and isn't angled down. Bending her forward a little, I find there's no exit wound either.
Satisfied that Katniss is not in mortal danger for the moment, I turn my attention to the others. Peeta is shakily pushing himself to his feet with a bloody Cashmere under him, but Scar is still battling Brutus. Two cannons fire rapidly as I stand up and reach for the hatchet strapped to my leg. But I don't end up needing it. Gamely fending off Brutus's sword with the sword in her left hand, Scar swings the hammer at his head and strikes him hard on the temple. He goes down in a heap, and before I can even blink she's kneeling over him slashing his throat with one of her smaller knives. Deadly as ever.
Peeta was watching the fight too, but as he looks our way his eyes widen in alarm. "Katniss!" He hustles over and squats in front of her as I return to my spot at her side. His face is beginning to puff with bruises but he looks otherwise unharmed.
While Peeta takes her right hand in both of his and starts speaking comforting words, Katniss's attention is on me. Head lolling to the side, she grabs my arm with an urgent, "Hanna, Hanna." Eyes wild, she starts babbling. "I love you. I love you so much." Tears stream down her cheeks as she swallows hard, lip trembling. "Tell Prim and Mom I love them too. I never got to say goodbye."
Gentle assurances would be most appropriate in this moment, but laughter is the only thing that passes my lips. In my defense, my own terror mixed with relief has left me feeling very unstable emotionally. Katniss's brow creases in confusion and I get myself under control enough to tell her, "Calm down, brainless, you're not gonna die. He missed your heart." Wiping my tearing eyes with a residual chuckle, I tease her, "And you call me dramatic." Katniss's eyes narrow and she lets go of my arm, only to reach for the knife. As her fingers close around the handle my hands snap out to cover hers. "Whoa, hey," I say, suddenly serious. "That knife might be all that's stopping you from bleeding to death. And pulling it out could do more damage."
Katniss looks at me as if I'm stupid. "I can't fight with a knife stuck in me, and if I can't fight there's no way I'm winning this Quell. He might as well have killed me."
Lips pursing, my head tips to the side as I consider this. Either she's forgotten about the rescue plan or she's playing dumb. Maybe she remembers but doubts their ability to pull through. Brutus's cannon goes off, distracting me for a moment, and I look up in time to see Scar silently stepping up behind Peeta. Deciding on a neutral response considering neither of them knows about the plan so far as I know, I counter, "Not true. Peeta and I would both kill ourselves to let you win, you know that."
"You and Peeta are fucking idiots," she huffs. Shaking her other hand loose of his grip, she now puts both on the knife and starts trying to wiggle it out again. Fucking moron.
Stilling her hands once again, I interject, "Okay, look, just let me do it. There's no way you'll be able to pull it straight out. You're just gonna hurt yourself." Katniss rolls her eyes but silently concedes, dropping her hands to her lap. Bending down to take a closer look at the knife, I mutter, "Fucking stubborn jackass."
"Takes one to know one," she retorts.
"This is like foreplay for you guys, isn't it?" chuckles Scar. We both glance up and see her grinning obnoxiously. Katniss scowls and looks ready to snap back at her. Seeing an opportunity to catch her unawares, I return my gaze to the the knife and yank it out before she has the chance to notice.
Katniss shrieks in surprise and grabs at the wound. "Ow, fuck!" She bites her lip hard, trying to hold in any more screams. Groaning loudly, she scrunches up her face and bangs her head back against the bark a couple times. Finally she exhales and levels a heavy glare at me. "I wasn't ready."
"It would've hurt more if you were tensed up." Wiping the dagger on my suit, I hand it back to Katniss. "Waste not."
She tips her head with a droll glare. "Thanks, I'll treasure it always."
Blood is now oozing out of the stab wound, as predicted, so I have to improvise another bandage. I cut off one of my pant legs to tie moss to her upper chest, looping the fabric under her left arm and around her neck. Satisfied that it will hold, I stand from my crouch and offer Katniss a hand up. Grasping my forearm, she starts to put her left hand down to push off the ground and immediately cringes.
Scar reacts before Peeta or I do, dropping to one knee. She circles her left arm around Katniss's lower back and wedges her right hand under Katniss's right armpit, then she stands, pushing her up without putting pressure on the affected area. Katniss glances back at her and gives a nod of thanks as she slides her hand down my wrist to give my hand a squeeze. Her gaze lingers on Scar a moment, until Peeta speaks up.
"Now you guys match," he cracks, gesturing down toward our feet. It takes me a second to realize he's referring to the one leg of Katniss's drysuit that ends above her knee. She cut off the tattered remains of that leg and the right arm back at camp and is going to have hilarious tanlines if she stops being an idiot and somehow makes it out of this arena alive. Katniss grunts at Peeta's attempt at humor and rolls her shoulder a little to test its mobility. Her instant cringe and gasp of pain don't bode well. Peeta smiles sympathetically and squeezes her other shoulder. "On the bright side, it's not your dominant arm."
"I need both arms for my bow," Katniss points out. With that in mind, she collects it from the ground. Testing her abilities, she finds she can hold it up but can't apply the necessary pressure to pull the string tight. Her face falls as she lowers it, and I can clearly see the vulnerability and disorientation in her eyes.
What is Katniss Everdeen without a bow? I guess we'll have to find out. Figuring I'm the next best archer in our alliance, I take the bow and quiver and hand Katniss the throwing hatchet in exchange. "I hope you kept up your training."
She nods, twirling it in her grasp. "Absolutely. Especially the hatchets."
The mental image makes me smile. Katniss, practicing with my signature weapons. Remembering everything I taught her. Remembering me. My mouth twists into a lopsided smirk. "Miss me?"
"Every fucking day," she admits immediately, her earnest and intense eye contact all but paralyzing me.
"Gross," Scar mutters from where she's scrubbing her knife clean with moss. Pitching the moss away, she slides it back in her belt and states, "We should get back to the others. Besides, they can't collect the bodies 'til we leave."
"Finnick stayed back to guard Beetee and Mags?" I ask.
"Yep," she says shortly. Her terseness is somewhat concerning, not that I wouldn't expect it. After all, she just killed the man who mentored her two years ago, a man who took a lot of interest in her at the Academy. Not in a gross way, just in a teaching way. They had similar builds and fighting styles and I guess he saw potential in her. Bet he wishes he never helped her now.
Despite my sincere doubt that she'll be willing to discuss it at all, I feel the need to reinforce that she can talk to me if she wants to. Wandering over, I nudge her in the ribs and murmur, "You all right?"
Scar shrugs with a tight smile. "I've already killed five people. What's one more?"
***o***
Volts the mad scientist is certainly living up to his own legend. The web of wire he is winding around the lightning tree is as intricate as the moves I'd make with my own weapons. As much as I've always been a snob about what kinds of allies I'd want, I'm realizing more and more the utility of someone brainy like him or Wiress. Or someone like Mags, who can barely fight at her age but can still make a fish hook out of anything. Or someone like Rue, whose survival skills and perception admittedly did more to save Katniss than anyone else last year.
My humility aside, I've managed to contribute in a non-combat role as well. With Katniss indisposed the hunting duties fell to me, and I did pretty well. Since we're not sure what else is edible I had to stick to shooting tree rats, but I took down four in less than half an hour and that made us a decent dinner. Our mentors were also kind enough to send us another delivery of bread, rounding out the meal. Twenty-four rolls from District 2, once again.
The food and several hours of rest has done us all good, especially Katniss, who stands alertly beside me as we watch Finnick and Beetee finish up with the wire. The build up to the wave is just starting to make the ground rumble when Beetee steps toward me and hands me the coil. "I was going to suggest you and Johanna run this down to the water because you'll be the fastest moving through the trees," he says to Katniss, "but if you're not well perhaps Finnick should guard instead while Johanna lays the wire."
"I'm feeling a lot better now that I've gotten some rest," she protests. "I can help." Beetee appears unconvinced, so she insists, "My legs are working just fine, and I only need one good arm to lay the wire. Johanna can guard me."
"I'm not letting her out of my sight," I chime in. Catching her eye, I add, "Not after last time."
"All right," agrees Beetee, rubbing his brow. "But you have to hurry. You have just over an hour and a half to make it down the slope and get as far away from the water as possible."
"Roger that, Volts," I assure him with a mock salute. "We'll be quick." Handing Katniss the coil, I nod down the hill. "Let's go."
Unwinding the coil takes more effort than Katniss expected. She truly does only need one arm to do it, but the spool is heavy and the exertion of carrying it makes her chest wound start bleeding again. So I take the spool and let her guard, though how much we need a guard at all is debatable given our decimated competition. The guy from District Ten died today too, so the only ones left to kill are Chaff and the lady from Six - a one-armed drunk and a junkie, as Scar put it. I'm pretty sure killing them isn't the point, though. Beetee's continued insistence on following through with this elaborate scheme that is becoming less and less necessary has all but confirmed my suspicion that this is part of the escape plan.
A creepy clicking noise starts rising in the next wedge over when we're a little over halfway down, so we're definitely moving fast enough to get clear of the trap. But what actually concerns me is how we're all supposed to meet at the tall tree in the one o'clock wedge as soon as we can after the lightning begins. If this is some kind of a distraction tactic while they break us out, lagging behind is not an option. Then again, since the point of the mission is rescuing Katniss, Beetee wouldn't have even considered giving her this job if it made her difficult to rescue. So I'm probably overthinking this. Still, I don't want to take any chances.
"Drop my axes," I tell her.
She squints at me through the moonlight. "What?"
"We need to move faster. I want to get back to the pack as soon as we can." Nodding to the smaller axe hooked in her belt, I say, "Just use the hatchet. If one of the others happens to attack us you'll want a weapon you can actually use."
"But they're your favorite weapon," she protests.
"We can come back for them later if we want. Or maybe there's more at the Cornucopia. It doesn't matter, but we need to hustle, okay?"
Katniss nods her agreement and tosses the heavier weapons aside with relief. We do move faster after that, and she even takes a couple turns unwinding so I can take a short break. I figure it's about a quarter after eleven when we make it to the shore, but we lose a few more minutes while I add another layer of moss to her soaked dressing and tie the pants bandage tighter. "I'm fine, really," she says as I do up the knot behind her back.
"You're a dumbass," I huff. "You shouldn't have offered to do something requiring exertion."
"You said you weren't leaving without me," she shoots back.
"I said I wasn't leaving your side," I correct her. "I should have made Finnick take it with one of the others." Sighing, I pull the knot tight and give her shoulder a gentle pat as I come back around. "Whatever, we live with it. But if we want to meet the others at that tree rather than having to move over and meet them in the next wedge…" This doesn't seem to make much of an impact on Brainless, who apparently has not sussed out the true purpose of the plan, so I stick with a reason I know she will care about. "We don't want Peeta to worry."
"True," she admits. "Let's go, then."
Katniss is still in remarkable shape, so at least her heart isn't pounding as hard as it could be as we run up the slope. She actually manages to go for a solid half hour before she starts to really have trouble, panting and stumbling as she tries to keep up with me. In an attempt to distract her from her discomfort, I reminisce, "Been a long time since we've gone running in the woods, huh Everdeen?"
Her eyes narrow suspiciously. "Are you propositioning me? Because I'm not exactly feeling up to it. As much as I'd love to."
"It's not your good hand," I toss back with a wink. She gives me a look and I chuckle. "I'm kidding. Just reminiscing about the good ol' days."
"I miss it too," she says. "When things were simpler, and there weren't so many people trying to kill us."
"Some things are better now," I muse. She squints and I elaborate, "Now I don't have to pretend not to love you. The work-life balance wasn't the greatest in that way."
"True," she admits between gasps for air. "And you don't have to worry about conflicts of interest." I hear nothing but her heavy breathing for a moment, then she adds, "I'm glad you finally picked a side."
I snort, rolling my eyes. "I'm glad I realized I was on the wrong side." The sound of her crashing to the ground makes me halt and turn back. She's on her knees and struggling to breathe, palm pressed to her forehead. Squatting in front of her, I touch her cheek to call her eyes up to mine. "I would protect you over anything," I promise. "You know that, right?" My mouth twitches with guilt. "I'm sorry I didn't do that before."
Her eyes flutter as she tries to comprehend through her daze. "You mean after the Tour?" When I nod, she sighs. "Hanna, that was the right move. I remember what you said to Gale, there was nothing you could have done. If you'd died trying to stop Thread, I never would have forgiven myself." She takes another moment to gather her breath and her thoughts before catching my eye again. "It wasn't up to you to save me. I always knew breaking the law could have those consequences."
My eyebrows twitch with an ironic snort. "But you never thought your significant other would be the law."
"I knew what I was signing up for with you," says Katniss. "But you're right, some things are better now." She gestures around us. "Aside from the whole impending death thing."
Now that she seems to be getting her wits back, I grab her right arm and stand, pulling her to her feet. "Speaking of, let's get a move on. We're over halfway there." I give her butt a little kick for good measure. "Break time's over, slacker."
"I haven't missed Drill Sergeant Mason, I can tell you that much," she grumbles, drawing a chuckle out of me.
Katniss manages to jog for a couple more minutes before she collapses again, pale and shivering. And now it's clear she can't go on. She's lost too much blood. This time I kneel beside her and urge her, "Here, get on my back."
Her trembling, bluish lips turn up slightly as she cocks an eyebrow. "You haven't asked me for that in a while."
Caught completely off guard, I stare helplessly as my already reddened cheeks flare up in the kind of blush befitting her, not me. Scowling, I grab her good arm and all but drag her onto my back. "Shut up, Katniss." While I am not shy to admit my sexual preferences or lack thereof when it comes to gender, I don't need the entire country to know how much of a bottom I can be sometimes. Her chuckle tickles my ear as she circles her arms around my neck and I give her a tiny growl of displeasure as I push myself back to standing.
Several minutes later I'm already huffing and puffing, trying to keep up a running pace on the incline, but Katniss is no longer the scrawny kid she was when I first met her. She has at least fifteen, twenty pounds on me and is a challenge to carry uphill when I'm already winded from a long run. My dragging feet falter and I brace my hand against a tree, stopping just long enough to catch my breath. Or at least that's what I tell myself. That's when I notice the clouds swirling over the wedge to our left, feel my scalp tingling as the electrical charge tries to lift the hair from my head.
The first lightning bolt hits the tree and the sky above us bursts into bright blue light. When it recedes, I can see the sky - the real sky - and I burst into a grin. They took down the whole force field. That's what Beetee was really targeting with the wire. I barely have time to process this before the explosions start. The lightning has stopped, I guess because we no longer have an artificial atmosphere, but there's something akin to fireworks exploding in the sky and trees are bursting into flame around us, more explosions rocking the ground and throwing dirt in the air.
"Did you hear a cannon?" asks Katniss.
"What?" Following her pointed finger, I see a hovercraft higher up the slope by the tall tree in our section, a floodlight illuminating the jungle while it lowers its claw to the ground. "That's our ride." Grinning at her over my shoulder, I sass her, "I told you there was a way out."
Katniss's face morphs in disbelief and then joy. "Let me down," she orders. She's already wiggling out of my grip, so I don't resist. "I can do it, I just needed a rest."
And so we run. The appearance of hope has given both of us a second wind. As we sprint up the slope, I'm struck by a memory of another time, in another set of woods. Katniss's voice filtering to me through the trees as she sang a beautiful, haunting song, drawing me to her. Are you, are you, coming to the tree? Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free. A chuckle rumbles out of my lungs as I push myself ever further up the hill, willing my legs to keep moving.
Watching the ship reel the claw back in, I can make out at least two people sitting in its clutches. I'm concerned we won't get there before the extraction is finished until I remember our trackers are still in our arms. They must know where we are, so they'll come for us after they've collected our allies at the tree. But if the whole dome is out and they aren't limited to extracting us at the tree, why didn't they come to us first? Maybe the others were closer, but that choice doesn't align with their supposed priorities.
The claw is rising to the ship a second time when Katniss drops to her knees again, wheezing and shaking. There's no point urging her onward, so I squat beside her and rub her back until I hear the hovercraft turning. Then I wave my arms and holler, "Here! We're down here!" The ship begins drifting our way in the sky and a joyous thrill rises up in me, pushing a relieved grin onto my face. Pressing my lips to her ear so she can hear me over the explosions and the whir of the aircraft, I whisper, "They're coming. We're getting out of here."
The light beam cuts through the trees and settles on us, and I wave once more for good measure. The bottom of the ship opens once again to let the claw out, but it's only been descending for a few seconds when it stops. I have enough time to furrow my brow and wonder what the hold up is before it's cranked back up into the belly of the aircraft. As soon as the doors close under it, the cloaking mechanism activates and the entire ship seems to disappear. For a few desperate seconds I hold my breath and wait for it to materialize above us again, but it doesn't. It feels like my stomach's sliding down into my asshole and my whole brain is going numb as I dare to turn my head and break the news to Katniss. But her eyes are on the sky too, and when they float over to me I see the same sinking realization on her face. They left us behind.
More hovercraft appear in the sky above us and beams of light stream down from them, sweeping the jungle for signs of life. Instinct kicks in and I drag Katniss into the shadow of a couple of trees that aren't on fire, blocking us from the view of the closest aircraft. Sliding down the tree at my back, I squeeze my eyes shut and hold her close to me, breathing quietly. It's useless, I know this. We can only hide for so long, even if we didn't have trackers embedded in our arms. There's no time to cut them out now, anyway. Besides, Katniss has already lost so much blood it would likely kill her.
My cheeks go lax and lose their color as this thought lands and the blood drains from my head. The next line of that song echoes in my ears, the meaning sinking into my bones. Wear a necklace of rope side-by-side with me. It is better for the lover to die than face the horrors that await her in the world. My whole body shudders at the thought, but there's no alternative, not with what the Capitol will do to us if we're captured now.
Katniss's eyes reflect the sadness and resignation in mine as I look her way. Already reaching for her belt, paler than ever, she hands me Brutus's dagger. "Do it."
My throat is rapidly closing, but I manage to rasp, "I'm sorry." Positioning the dagger just under her ribs, I make sure to angle up. I'm not Brutus. I won't miss. Brushing wisps of hair from her clammy forehead, I plant a kiss on her hairline. Then one on her lips, one that she returns. With her lip dragging between my teeth, I screw my eyes shut and push. There's a sickening feeling of her flesh giving way and a groan of pain, thankfully the last I'll ever have to hear from her. Tears roll down my cheeks as I ease her down onto her back, slowly sliding the dagger out to let the blood flow freely. Trying to keep my eyes on her face and not the damage I have inflicted, I force a smile. "I love you."
Katniss replies with a weak squeeze of my arm and a single word. "Stay."
"Not going anywhere," I declare, taking her hand in a firm grip. I'm dying beside her. This is what I wanted, I remind myself, though I thought I would die first, die protecting her. At least the second part is still true, in some way. Her eyes fall shut and head lolls to the side and a shuddering sigh escapes my body, followed by a strangled sob. Tears are freely streaming from my eyes now, blinding me and joining the mucus dribbling out of my nose. I wipe it with the back of my bloody hand and take a deep breath, squeezing her hand harder. Positioning the knife between my ribs, I try to gather the courage to fall forward.
Before I can, a beam of light hits us and effectively paralyzes me for a second. Within that second, an electrified net shoots down, ensnaring us and actually paralyzing me. Fear shoots through my whole body as the net flies up to the hovercraft, reeling us in with it. My ears pop and I get this awful headrush as we ascend, adding to the nausea I already felt upon realizing my fate. Taken alive. All because I hesitated.
In seconds we are on the floor of the hovercraft and gloved people dressed in white are tearing us apart. Not Peacekeepers, but some kind of Capitol attendants. A team of doctors is waiting as two of them lift Katniss's limp body onto an operating table. A glass door closes between us, but my eyeballs are frozen pointed in that direction and I can see the doctors frantically working on her, hooking her up to various machines and bags of blood and other fluids. All I can do is hope I did irreparable damage or she already lost so much blood that they can't revive her.
Another attendant pries the dagger from my fist, but they leave the current on even after I'm disarmed, leaving me unable to move or even blink. But I can still see out of my rapidly drying eyes. I see the doctors reacting to Katniss's weak vital signs as the monitors come to life. I see their gloves staining crimson as they attempt to piece her back together. I see her flatline.
The last thing I see is a man in white lowering a gas mask onto my face.
A/N: Many thanks to D7P who was helpful as ever. Even more, in fact.