Chapter Thirty
They waited until the sun was fully gone and the light was fading. Thomas left Newt with Aris and the bow when he scouted the treeline the same way he and Minho had done before. Once he'd checked it all out he stepped cautiously out from between the trees and into the evening, his eyes flicking everywhere at once as he tried to determine whether they were alone there.
He couldn't see anything, but even when he finally waved the others over he was still feeling uneasy about being out in the open. They drank their fill of water, waiting in-between refills to give the little water tablets time to work. The Arena was cooling down for the night again, and unlike the heavy heat of the day the air seemed to constantly moving, sending tiny ripples across the water as though the lake were shivering.
"Why d'ya think he left?"
Newt asked a while later, when they were sitting at the water's edge. They were sitting side by side, slightly further up the beach than their young ally. Aris had taken his trainers off, and his socks, and was resting his feet in the water. Thomas thought he still looked far too young for the Arena, far too young for the Hunger Games to claim. It was unsettling and horrible to watch him sit there, when such an image should be peaceful and heartwarming. Thomas looked away to Newt, knowing who already.
"Minho?" he asked anyway.
Newt didn't react like Thomas expected. He didn't roll his eyes and shoot him the half-skeptical half-amused look he was so good at. He didn't snort, or declare Thomas's guess obvious. He just continued to watch Aris wiggling his toes and dragging his fingertips through the water. He looked almost wistful, and Thomas would bet he was thinking how much he would love for their lives to be so carefree again that they could sit by the water and dip idle fingers below the surface.
"Yeah. Why'd he go, Tommy?"
Thomas had been thinking about it all day. He knew it seemed silly to group into allies to fend off the other tributes because if you succeeded then where did it leave you? Fighting each other for the Victor's crown. Fighting each other to survive. And until the moment came when you had to turn on each other you had the pleasure of watching each other die at the hand of your opponents. He thought he knew why Minho had gone, thought he understood that much about him. He sighed as he sank back on his hands.
"Could be any reason. Maybe he thought he prefers being on his own, like he said."
Newt sighed, dropping his head to look at his fingers. Thomas watched the faded light as it landed soft shadows on Newt's outline. It pained him more and more every time he looked at Newt, really looked at him properly. Every time he did he was reminded how many tributes there were who would rather Newt died than lived, how many would kill him to succeed, to survive. Newt had always been the strongest person Thomas knew and yet he couldn't help seeing him as fragile, as a delicate hope that any one of the others could extinguish at any moment.
And the worst part was knowing that it only made him love Newt more.
"I know he said it's better to be on your own, but i thought… Well i thought we'd changed his mind, ya know?"
"Yeah, i know." Thomas replied softly.
They were both thinking it but they weren't saying it. They were avoiding the thought that the reason Minho had left them was because the longer he stayed the harder he would find killing them when the time came. He had grown to like them like they had grown to like him, and in a place where any breath could be your last your emotions made attachments that much stronger because they ere something to cling to. Maybe Minho thought he was better not having any connections.
"He told me it was dangerous to have friends out here, when we talked about you."
Newt looked up then, his expression unsettling.
"Dangerous?"
Thomas just nodded, looking back to where Aris was now wading in the water, his trouser legs rolled up to his knees. His heart felt cold and swallowing was hard. He looked away.
"Tommy… You know that if… If it was what ya wanted…"
Newt was uncomfortable, his eyes flickering to Thomas's face and away again as he twisted his hands together. Thomas watched him, frowning as he took him in. Newt wasn't really a fidgeter by nature. He bit his lips, toyed with them with his hand. He picked his nails sometimes if he was thinking. He didn't really twist his hands together like that, not unless his head was somewhere bad. Thomas knew what it was and his fear level spiked.
"If you're saying what i think you are, forget it."
Thomas cut him off firmly, giving Newt his best this-is-not-a-negotiation face. When Newt looked up at him again he looked almost desperate, a sadness and a guilt glimmering in his eyes. Thomas shook his head, knowing where the conversation was going and having none of it.
"No way, Isaacson. You're not getting rid of me that easy."
Newt hesitated, his eyes searching Thomas's face for something. He must have found it because he dropped his chin in a shallow nod, his shoulders lowering as he closed his eyes. Thomas reached out to find Newt's hand, entwining their hands together on the ground between them.
"You and me, Newt, okay? Promise me."
Newt nodded again, squeezing Thomas's hand. Thomas squeezed back, the fear receding again to the just-about-manageable level that was becoming normal. He kicked sandy-soil over Newt's trainer playfully, smiling a little when Newt looked at him again.
"Promise?"
Newt did roll his eyes then, looking skyward before back at him.
"I promise, ya sappy shank."
Thomas just grinned, and they sat for a moment or so before Newt tugged Thomas's hand.
"Come on, we should take the chance to clean off while it's here."
He tugged Thomas to the water, removing his socks and shoes like Aris had. He threw his jacket over them as he set to work rolling his trouser legs up. Thomas copied him, his eyes straying often to the blonde's lean form. Thomas rolled his own trousers up as he tried not to make it obvious he was throwing Newt appreciative glances.
Newt was in the water now, scoping it up to wash his face. The water slicked part of his fringe back and dripped down his neck as he grinned over at Thomas.
"Of all the things we've left back home i never thought a shower would one i'd miss so bloody much."
Thomas sniggered as he waded over to join him, and when he shot the blonde a raised eyebrow leer he responded by knocking Thomas with his elbow and laughing as the brunette pinwheeled to catch his balance.
They cleaned their faces, doused their hair and every exposed patch of skin in water, washing as much of the stale sweat from their bodies as they could. The water was surprisingly warm in the cool of the night, a pleasant few degrees of a difference. Despite trying to keep as quiet as they could so as not to attract other tributes, Thomas couldn't resist flicking the odd handful of water at Newt, and it seemed his friend couldn't resist it either. They ganged up on Aris, and the younger boy led them deeper as he dodged their attacks with stifled laughter.
The second Thomas saw the shadow he tensed, fear spiking his heart rate and a trickle of adrenaline preparing to urge a fight or flight response from his system. He didn't notice he'd thrown out an arm, that it crossed Newt's midsection like a protective barrier. He didn't dare to even blink as he looked at the dark form.
"Get down." Thomas hissed from the corner of his mouth.
His mind raced for solutions. They were too far from the water's edge to get there before the tribute could run there. They might have a shot at the furthest edge but he couldn't be sure. The figure didn't look like it had a bow, so maybe they just faced knives. They were potentially within striking distance, especially if the other tribute had skills like Minho's. His thoughts turned to Aris's chatter about his district in a moment of brilliance.
"Like one of your springs Aris, ready to go, get me?"
"Yeah."
His quiet voice had almost cracked but he followed Thomas's instruction. He dipped himself low in the water, his round eyes watching the shadow of the tribute in the treeline. Thomas shifted his own footing between the two, putting himself further in front of Newt. His arm was still thrown out like a barrier against the blonde, and Newt had a gentle hold on his arm with both hands. He pressed closer to Thomas as he shallowed his breathing just like his district-mate.
The figure didn't move. It didn't cry out or seem threatening at all but Thomas wasn't stupid enough to believe he or she couldn't see them. The Arena may not have a moon but it had a grey sort of glow in the darkness that mimicked moonlight. There was a soft and subtle change in the light when it alighted on the water and he knew it would be throwing up their shadows as clearly as if there was a moon.
He knew he shouldn't have followed Aris out into the water, had known it was a bad idea to let his guard down. But he had gotten so distracted by the way that the water had made Newt smile that he'd allowed that to override his need to be constantly alert. His stomach dropped.
Not far from the tribute's feet were dark shapes, stark against the lighter ground near the water. Thomas cursed under his breath as he realised they'd left everything. Both of their packs, holding all of their supplies lay in the sand-soil, his bow too. Newt had even left his jacket. Fear seized his insides as the adrenaline trickle became a flow.
The tribute had access to their bow. It lay mere feet from him or her. Thomas fought hard not to make a sound but inside he was growling in frustration. This was all his fault. He'd let his guard down and now…
If either of his friends got hurt because of him he'd never forgive himself.
