Chapter Forty Two
Thomas was beginning to feel hungry by the time Aris woke up. He sat up and yawned, rubbing at his eyes before he looked around. His hair was tousled, giving him an innocent and youthful look that made Thomas feel queasy. He liked this kid. He liked him a lot. Aris frowned, looking around again before his shoulders fell. The round emerald eyes met his and Thomas smiled sadly.
"I wish he'd stayed." Aris murmured, dropping his gaze to the zip of the sleeping bag as he tried to extract himself without jostling Newt.
Thomas sighed.
"Yeah, buddy. Me too."
Aris sighed too, wriggling over to sit next to Thomas as he re-zipped the sleeping bag back up. They sat quietly for a while, watching the dawn slowly brighten up the trees around them, feeling the morning move into being. Day Number Five. They passed the nearly empty water bottle between them, and Thomas was grateful for the second one resting in his pack because he was feeling incredibly thirsty. Eventually he grew tired of sitting still, nervous energy irritating his skin.
It was when he stood up and stretched that Thomas realised two things.
One was that his heel, the one with the gash cutting across it, was incredibly unhappy to be standing up. The other was that the temperature in the Arena wasn't climbing as the darkness disappeared. He shifted his weight to his good foot with a wince, but he couldn't deny how good it felt that he wasn't burning hot already. The heat of the previous days had made him irritable and they had all felt sluggish and lethargic sweating out in the forest.
The only thing dampening the relief in his gut was the thought that the GameMakers had probably realised that tributes had less energy to kill each other with if it was being drained from them by the heat. The lack of scorching heat was indeed good for them, but would be just as good for their enemies too. Thomas paced around their tiny clearing to clear his head and loosen his muscles, content to do so for a while. He refused to think that Minho might have the right idea exploring because he was suddenly feeling restless and edgy, more so than usual.
Exploring would do them no good, at least not till Newt was up and about and strong enough to hold his own again. It hadn't escaped Thomas how long it had been since the blonde had eaten, the energy bar from Minho that Thomas had put aside for Newt feeling heavy in his pocket as his own stomach griped. He'd eaten the half he'd been saving when Minho had given him the second, keeping the sealed one for when his fellow Glader awoke.
He'd need to hunt pretty soon though. It had been relatively easy until now, but Thomas was suddenly struck by the realisation that they hadn't startled any duck-like birds in a long time. They would need to move as soon as possible. He could only hope Newt would wake soon because the thought of leaving him was just sickening. Thomas knew that even without the dreaded heat by nightfall they'd be in need of water once more.
"When will he wake up?" Aris asked, drawing Thomas's attention from where he'd been glaring daggers at a nearby tree.
The kid was looking at him with those round green eyes, biting his bottom lip. Thomas felt the familiar lurching as he yet again realised how young Aris was. Thomas forced himself to sit down, his fingers finding Newt's hair automatically as Aris shifted against his side. Thomas sighed, wishing he could switch his brain off to escape from all the burning thoughts and worries and fears that plagued him.
"Hopefully soon." he answered, brushing one stray curl behind his district-mate's ear. "By nightfall, if we're lucky."
Newt made a soft almost-whine, his head turning against Thomas's touch and making Thomas's heart thump hard. It was a good side. The blonde was responding to him, at least on some level aware that Thomas was there. It made it just a little bit easier to breathe. The antidote was working and the venom was leaving Newt's veins slowly but surely.
He was going to get better. Thomas just had to keep hold of that thought.
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She bit back a growl as she yanked her foot back from the tangle she'd gotten it into. At this rate she was going to get caught.
At this rate she was going to get killed.
With a determined breath she threw her weight upwards, her fingers catching the edge above her and mild pain tingling from the tightness of her grip. She hauled her feet up, praying to anybody listening that she didn't tangle again. She didn't think she'd find the fall very pleasant, considering how painful it had been the first time.
For a heavy second her foot caught and she hung there, shoulders straining and certain she was going to fall. But by some miracle her trainers didn't catch, and she was able to slot them into the next loops of the rope-net, digging her fingertips into strange rough metal of the next level.
She relaxed marginally when she succeeded in hooking her knee over and securing the majority of her weight on the platform. The rucksack on her back was a weight she was always forgetting to compensate for, and it would have pulled her down if it had been any heavier.
Brenda let herself breathe once she was safely away from the edge, lying flat on the uneven metal panel and trying to listen. There was a definite feeling of morning in the air, and the sky above their Arena was lightening.
Day Five, her mental calendar announced without prompt. It felt like it had been weeks. She sighed, wishing she could lie there and take a nap. But she'd get caught, surely. And the Careers seemed incredibly irritably since their leaders had been killed. She looked at the metal by her nose, her eyes crossing as she focused on the rough surface and remembered the metal in the junkyard at home, where her father used to take her to explore. She delt her eyes welling up as she was reminded she would never see it again.
Hope was a powerful thing, even for people who knew they were never going to make it. But Brenda knew, knew as she had from the moment they had called her name, that she was never going to make it. It didn't matter who the others were. She just didn't have it in her.
Hell, when Thomas had turned to look at her in the BloodBath she had been grateful. Relieved it was going to be him. She still couldn't get over what he'd done, the rucksack on her back a constant reminder. He could have killed her. She'd have let him, and yet he hadn't. And that exact reason was how she knew she'd never make it. Because what Thomas had done was remind her who they were. Who he was. Who she was.
She was a Glader, and she just didn't have it in her to kill. Not if it was other people like Thomas. Not if it was kids. They had several this year, most of them dead now. Little things that had no right being somewhere so dangerous. Brenda was reminded of Chuck, and how devastating his loss had been to her district the year before. Poor Thomas had been close to him, and she had watched him take the little boy's death hard.
She sat up, moving to the back of the little semi-room the structure created carefully. She swung her pack down and opened the zip, looking over the pile of supplies scattered over the metal flooring. She picked up a knife to replace the one she'd lost yesterday, running from a dark-skinned girl with braids in her hair and blood in her eyes. Lying in the corner was a sleeping bag, something she'd been grateful to have one of already. She picked over the food items, taking what she needed and felt she could carry, stumbling across a little metal jar filled with a sticky pink substance that smelled almost floral.
She wasn't certain what it was, but it smelled somehow familiar, like the way she remembered her mother smelling when she was really young. She put it in the front pocket, sure the purpose of such a thing would come to her when she least expected it. When she had filled her rucksack as much as she dared she sat with her back against the wood wall and opened a little tin from the pile, feeling almost tearful to find diced fruit inside.
She really had to get it together. Crying at everything was just going to tire her out like it had the first two days, and the Arena was getting more dangerous the further the numbers dwindled. She couldn't afford to get caught having a break-down. She listened to dawn sounds as she ate as slowly as she could, savouring the juice and syrup combination. She'd filled her water bottle during the night and would be good till tomorrow if she was careful.
As the Arena began to lighten properly Brenda sighed. It seemed her respite was at an end. She'd be a sitting duck if any of the Careers came back before she reached the ground. She didn't know where they went at night, or if they were hiding in the Maze or not, but during the day they almost always returned to the centre. At least, the ones who weren't out hunting. She felt sick at the thought, and pushed it from her mind as she tossed her pack over one shoulder and readied herself for the climb down.
She'd gotten pretty good at traversing the rope nets of the odd structure, and if it hadn't been for the Careers marking out the supply-strewn centre as their turf, she'd probably be spending most of her time there because she was light enough to reach the top pretty easily, and it gave her a hiding place and shelter. Not to mention it being the only food source around. The thought of Careers with knives and spears and bows, however, was less tempting.
She'd just secured her footing on the second level down when she heard the whispering, and it almost made her lose her balance. She tumbled forward onto the metal with a bump that might not have really been as loud as it felt, considering there was no answering cries from the tributes who sounded so close by.
She pressed against one wooded wall and held her breath, feeling her heart racing and adrenaline whizzing through her veins. It was quiet again as she strained her ears.
Surely she hadn't imagined the whispered voice? She was almost certain she'd heard it. Brenda blinked and listened for some very long moments, every passing second feeding the dread growing in her stomach. She had to get moving, and now. If she didn't get down and back to the sands she was totally shucked.
