Chapter Twenty-Eight

They had agreed to Minho's plan to explore, deciding it best to start in the early morning after spending the night in the forest again because they knew their way there. They reached the slope easily enough, choosing trees further along just in case. The only living tribute who'd come across them there hadn't actually seen them in the trees, so Thomas said he felt it was a safe enough plan. Minho had informed them that the giant tribute with the vicious eyebrows was his district-mate, the one he'd mentioned before.

"That was Gally. Vicious slinthead. He's dangerous. Really dangerous, and too good with knives for his own good. Shuck knows how he got so big, his parents are pretty small for Masons." he muttered, assessing each tree individually, trying to decide.

Minho's voice was only vaguely irritated and it was uncomfortable to hear him talk about the terrifying tribute in such a throw-away manner. He terrified Newt, the thought of him linked intrinsically with the memory of him lunging at Thomas, pinning him to the forest floor like it was nothing. If Minho hadn't been there…

Newt didn't like to think about losing Thomas. He couldn't stop worrying about it but it made him feel cold and sick to his stomach at the things he might have to watch the brunette go through.

"We called him Satan," he murmured to distract himself, leaning against Thomas's side.

Thomas's arm had slid around his waist and it had surprised Newt how natural it felt. Like they'd been physically affectionate this way for years. Minho's laugh was sudden and rich, and he leaned against a tree, his other arm wrapping around his stomach as he laughed. Aris was nodding, an amused smile on his face. It was clear he knew who they were talking about.

"Satan. That's shucking perfect. It's exactly right. Man that's hilarious."

He wiped his eyes with one hand when he finally straightened, shooting Newt an appreciative look. Newt was grinning, and for just a moment it was nice not to feel terrified. Too bad it couldn't last. Minho turned back to the tree he was at before looking back over, slapping a hand against the bark.

"Okay shanks, i've picked. What's the plan here, are we in twos or what? I'm not really feeling great with company up there."

Newt looked to Thomas before he looked over at Aris. He was tiny, picking at his zip awkwardly because he knew they were talking about him and was pretending he didn't. They couldn't very well leave him on his own, could they? Thomas read Newt's mind, of course.

"That's okay. We'll take him with us, won't we?"

Newt nodded in agreement, smiling gently at Aris. The kid went red but smiled back.

"Good. Here we go."

With that Minho was climbing, and Newt turned to the tree Thomas had chosen, wondering how they were going to do this. Thomas nudge his side.

"You're tree-fairy. You're first. Aris, you'll follow, yeah? You okay with trees?"

The boy looked uncertain but nodded slowly anyway, looking up into the branches uneasily.

It turned out he was very much not okay with trees and it took a very long time for him to reach Newt's chosen perch, well over an hour, possibly close to two. Thomas was exhausted by the time he reached the criss-crossing boughs Newt had picked out, trying not tho think about the fact that Aris might be just as bad at staying in a tree as he was at climbing them.

They were a try long way off the ground.

Boom.

Thomas jerked away, his neck spasming in complaint at the odd angle he'd left it at. He rolled his shoulders and turned his head from side to side to loosen the cramp as best he could, watching Newt waking. The air was as icy as it had been the night before and Thomas tried not to show how badly he was shivering. He couldn't feel his toes, even when he wiggled them. Or at least he thought he was wiggling them.

n the end Thomas had managed to convince Newt to get in the sleeping bag again, but it hadn't been a pretty argument. Aris's tiny frame was tucked in beside him, courtesy of both their lean forms and the fact that the sleeping bags were designed to fit the largest tributes too. They had finally settled after much cautious arranging and fear of falling, Newt's head resting on his waist as the blonde twisted in a weird position to allow for Aris curled like a cat against his chest, his small warm warming Thomas's leg through the sleeping bag.

Thomas's hand was around Newt's shoulder again, his finger carding through his hair as they'd fallen asleep. Despite the noise Aris barely stirred, and coupled with the speed he'd fallen asleep at it made Thomas wonder if the kid had slept at all the night before, or even the night before they were sent up. He couldn't blame him. He himself was exhausted, what little sleep he was able to get uneasy and light. Newt smiled at him as he yawned awake to watch the sky, and Thomas ran his fingers across his cheek in return. Newt wriggled an arm out of the bag and reached across Aris to hold Thomas's other hand, linked their fingers and resting their palms flat.

The music started, stirring Aris but not waking him and they let him be.

The first flickering image was of Ava, his hair like fire in the dark sky. It left Aris the last of his district. With a sick feeling in his stomach Thomas began his count.

One.

Textiles was skipped so the girl had survived, the two from Luxury and all four in Agriculture, Masonry.

Twelve.

A boy called Frankie was killed from the Lumber district, making the boy who remained the last of his district.

Thirteen.

The two from the Fishing district avoided the board.

Fifteen.

Thomas found himself clenching his hand in Newt's hair as familiar faces appeared.

The dark-skinned boy with the scowl that he had silenced with his arrows. Alby.

The tall bow Minho had killed. Nick.

That meant Mining had lost all four tributes.

Nobody else had been claimed that day and the closing music filled the air, the sound making Thomas feel sick again.

Twenty-one left.

In a day and a half twenty-seven tributes had died. Newt squeezed his hand gently, twisting his head to look up at him.

"You couldn't do anythin' else, Tommy. Us or them, remember that would ya?"

Thomas nodded, and the tears in his eyes didn't fall. But it was close. A whole day of the guilt of killing the boy he knew now to be Alby had had an effect. He still felt like a horrendous human being but it was easier to breathe. Ava too.

They were surviving now, that's all it was. And if it kept Newt safe he was willing and ready to do it again. As much as the thought cut into him he knew he'd kill again if it meant ensuring Newt's safety. He tried to smile but it failed. Newt closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek against Thomas's hip.

"Get some sleep." he whispered.

Thomas's fingers brushed through Newt's hair, gently and carefully untangling the matted curls. It was soothing, and Thomas wasn't sure who was benefitting more from it as he relaxed again as best he could, closing his eyes. Newt was right. Newt was always right. He was drifting when Newt spoke up again, his voice softened by sleep.

"Love ya, Tommy."

Despite the freezing night Thomas felt a pleasant warmth thrum through him. He smiled as he rested his head back against the tree.

"Love you, Newt."