Chapter 20
The first thing I actually do is look at the tops of the rocks, making sure no one is there.
For all I know, they might be trying to pull the same thing we are with the nightlock.
But no one's there.
Still not entirely convinced, I scope the area for recent signs of life.
There doesn't appear to be any. Apart from the two from earlier tonight.
Finally convinced that this parachute is the real deal, I bring it into the shelter and cover up the entrance again. I then turn the torch back on. Then, holding the torch in my mouth, I proceed to open up the contents brought about by the parachute.
I find a needle with a pink liquid in it. With trepidation, I lift up the syringe to inspect critically. There is only one thing that it could possibly be. And one person it could possibly be for.
Relief flows through me and a massive weight is lifted off my chest.
Quickly digging out the square piece of antiseptic cloth the needle comes with, I rush over to Haymitch.
I take his arm and hold it out before wiping the inner elbow with the antiseptic. Then I begin searching for a vein. Obviously I haven't ever done this myself. But I've seen Jasmine do it often enough that I'm confident enough to be willing to give it a try.
Finally finding what I think is a vein, I inject the needle into his arm and plunge the pink liquid through.
Once it has all been injected into Haymitch, I pull out the needle and replace it back in the small black box it came from.
I lean back against the wall, both mentally and physically exhausted from the day's events, but relieved beyond words for the parachute.
Leaving Haymitch to rest, I wait, knowing that it will take a little while for the medicine to take effect. Maybe even hours.
As I'm resting with my eyes closed, I am suddenly struck with another idea. The idea is so unexpected that when it comes I sit up forward quickly, flashing my eyes open.
Quietly I head back outside. I go to the nearest bush bearing fruit and pick one.
Back inside, by the light of the torch, I see I'd picked some blackberries. I open the small black box the needle came from and take out the syringe. Then I plunge the needle into the berries. Slowly, I pull the end of the hypodermic needle. Sure enough the juice of the blackberry is extracted. Once completely filled, I put the needle away.
The idea behind this elaborate plan is to trick the tribute that comes across this into thinking that what they're holding is medicine or an antidote of some kind. So, when they decide to use it, they'll effectively inject themselves with poison. Just one less tribute to deal with.
Unable to sit idly for long, I replace the cloth on Haymitch's forehead and pour some more water between his unmoving lips.
I then go back to sitting, drawing my knees up to my chest and resting my forehead on my knees.
The faces of my family appear behind my closed eyelids and it's taking all my self-control not to cry. It won't do to be homesick. Not when there are much more pressing matters at hand.
I check back on Haymitch every now and then, but it looks as though it'll take more time for the medicine to take effect than I thought.
As night drags on slowly, it brings with it a bitter cold. I put on my jacket before taking out Haymitch's and putting it over him.
That should keep him warm.
I drink more water to keep myself awake and fully alert. Bunching up my hair into my hands I realise that I don't have a hair tie anymore. Deciding that it would only get in the way, and potentially get me killed, I draw out my knife and cut it. My cut hair falls limply into my hands. Now my hair is shoulder-length. Remembering how my mother used to do it, I attempt to fix up the ends, making it look naturally grown out.
I look down at my hair, trying to decide whether it can be of any use.
It won't be able to hold anything together, being so soft that it'll untie itself the moment it's let go of. I even try braiding it before giving up when I can't find a way of holding the ends together.
Eventually I decide that it serves no purpose and to just discard of it.
I get up and replace the cloth cooling Haymitch's forehead again. As I pour water into his mouth, I am reminded of how Meredith got sick.
We couldn't have been more than seven. Meredith had contracted a rather nasty flu. An outbreak of sorts had been spreading through the Seam. Meredith must've caught it from those at school. The epidemic was serious, with many losing their lives to it, not being able to afford the proper treatment. Fortunately we could. Meredith was still bedridden for the better part of a week, though. Our parents were still worried, seeing her look so frail and thin. She didn't have much of an appetite while she was sick. I remember waking up to her ragged coughs. She would say that she was thirsty and I would get her some water. I'd gently lift her head and help her drink it. After getting up several times in the middle of the night, I finally just decide to climb into bed with her and spend the rest of the night there. Her bed was so warm, with the flu making her core body temperature higher than average. It never even once crossed my naive mind that she might just get me ill too.
It was a stressful time in Twelve back then. With many falling ill, hardly anyone had time to prepare for the Harvest Festival. Only few homes had coloured corn affixed to their front doors. The Harvest Festival is always celebrated on the final day of the Victory Tour, wherein the victor of that year tours around the districts. This is a rarity as travelling to other districts is kept to the bare minimum. Victory Tours always happen a few months after the end of the Games. To allow time for the victor to adjust back into regular life. Anyway, the Harvest Festival usually means a meal with family and a few friends if it can be afforded.
Pulling out of my thoughts, I decide to check the cuts on Haymitch's abdomen. Lifting his shirt up a little, I can see that the blue streaks are still there. They do, however, appear to be not as long as they were.
With a rush for relief washing over me, I pull Haymitch's shirt back down.
I then rest by the entrance of the rocks again.
As time ticks by slowly, I'm wondering how much longer it will be until Haymitch wakes. I run my fingers through my hair and am momentarily shocked to discover how short it has become. Then I remember my spontaneous haircut and almost laugh out loud.
Soon I become too tired to stay awake anymore. So I decide to take a nap.
I lean my head back against the side of the rock and allow myself to give in to sleep.
In my dreams, I'm lying on the small steel table back in the Remake Centre. Turning my head to the side, I see many tools scattered about on a tray placed on the table beside my bed.
The tools themselves look as though they are implements of torture, like they can inflict loads of pain. I remember seeing these tools for the first time and thinking the same thing then.
President Snow suddenly and unexpectedly enters the room. He makes his way over to the tray of tools and gently caresses them. Eventually he picks one up. As he holds it, I see that it's a pair of scissors for cutting hair with. But judging by the way he looks at me, my hair isn't his intended objective.
"Now, Miss Donner," he says placidly, "this won't hurt one bit."
As he turns towards me, I struggle to get up. I look down and see that I've been strapped to the bed, my wrists and ankles tightly bound to it. There is even a strap keeping my forehead in place.
Snow then raises the scissors. He stabs the scissors into my exposed neck. Immediately blood is gushing everywhere. I try to scream but am choking on blood. Snow continues stabbing me mercilessly.
I wake with a start.
My foggy brain causes me to place a hand over my throat, checking for any puncture wounds. There isn't any.
Sighing with relief and disbelief at the dream, I resolve not to sleep any time soon. That type of strange dreams is something I can definitely live without.
I sit back and monitor him from afar.
As I continue monitoring Haymitch, a rustling sound suddenly catches my attention. Quickly I turn off the torch and remain absolutely still. As the noises get closer and closer, I risk peeking outside.
The scene outside is much like that before, with the woods illuminated by a bright moon. It still takes a while for my eyes to adjust properly. Once it does, I see a looming, hulking figure that I instantly know belongs to Ruby. She's so close that I don't want to risk making any noise by getting out my blowgun.
Seeing this as an opportunity to rid the competition of her, though, I slowly unsheathe my knife.
I am just about to make a surprise attack on her when something Konrad told us on the train ride to the Capitol reappears in my memory.
We had just finished with introductions and are still eating when Konrad opens his mouth to speak once more.
"To be perfectly clear, your first priority is not to kill. It is to survive. Only fight with other tributes when you absolutely must."
"What if we are certain they don't know we're there and can therefore pull off an ambush?" Adam asked.
"If you are one hundred per cent sure of your victory against them, I say go for it," Konrad had answered.
Now, staring into the dark at Ruby, I ponder whether I have what it takes to take her down.
With a resigned sigh, I put away my knife, deciding it is not worth the risk.
Soon she is out of sight again.
I give it a little more time before turning the torch back on, just in case Rudy isn't as far away from here as I originally thought.
Haymitch remains where he is, seemingly asleep. As I continue keeping an eye on him, I marvel at the fact that we're made it as far as we did. Considering that neither one of us ever had any proper combative training until the scant few days before the actual Games, it is quite the achievement.
Then I'm suddenly thinking of our conversation from earlier today.
As we continued to gather up sticks, Haymitch for once initiates the conversation.
"Tell me," he beings, "what was the point in learning snares if you couldn't learn to properly cook the animal you captured it with?"
"How did-"
"You're not the only one that observed the competition," he replied simply.
I hesitated a moment.
"The snares weren't intended for animals," I admitted ominously.
"Ah," was his reply.
We continued to gather the rest of the kindling sticks in silence.
Haymitch fidgets a little and I'm there. I first continue cooling his forehead with a new cloth before giving him several mouthfuls of water.
The night continues on without much improvement on Haymitch's condition.
I sit, nervously wondering if I'd been too late in administering the antidote and if there is anything else I can possibly do to speed up his recovery.
Unable to come up with anything useful, I continue to apprehensively wait and hope for the best, feeling useless again.
It isn't long before my impatient and hyperfocused nature reappears. I drink some water in an attempt to calm my mind. Briefly I consider taking another nap before quickly dismissing the idea. Least I should have another bad or bizarre dream.
I decide to direct my whole attention on monitoring Haymitch. This keeps me busy and stops my mind from wandering too far.
Keeping a watchful eye on him, it occurs to me that I can see how he could have a girlfriend. I've seen the two of them around the Hob on the rare occasions Jasmine and I are able to sneak there without anyone noticing. Jasmine would claim that she is just curious, but I know she's secretly hoping to see Tobey. She's very pretty, the girlfriend. From what I can remember. Like most people there she has the typical Seam look about her, with almond-shaped light grey eyes and long wavy dark hair.
Seeing as Twleve only has the one school, I've also seen her around there too.
She and Haymitch sometimes hang out together, just the two of them. But for the most part they keep to the company of their own mates.
They probably didn't want to make a big deal out of their relationship.
Good.
Most of the merchant lot, especially the more well-off girls, feel as though everyone needs to know about their latest relationship.
Frankly, I'm fed up with it.
I recline against the side of the rock, taking in the peaceful sounds of nature at night.
Crickets chirp loudly nearby, an owl hoots from a tree, and somewhere off in the far distance a lone wolf bays at the moon.
The night gets later and later. I soon find myself no longer able to keep myself awake. So with my last ounce of strength, I turn off the torch and close my eyes.
I force myself to wake when it feels as though I've slept enough. At best, I estimate that I was able to sleep for half an hour.
I rub my heavy and drooping eyes with the heel of my palm before turning the torch back on. As soon as the small cave shelter lights up my sensitive eyes react by shielding away from the light.
Once my eyes finally adjust to it, I instantly look towards Haymitch.
He had shifted slightly while I was asleep, causing his jacket to fall a little.
I quickly cover him with it properly again. With the bitter cold seeping into where we are the last thing I need is for Haymitch to catch a cold.
Once that is done, I anxiously shuffle about on the spot.
Why hasn't he regained consciousness yet?
Peeking through the thick leaves on the branch covering the entrance I see that the world is washed in a deep blue rather than pitch black.
Dawn approaches within two hours, I estimate.
With great wonder I realise that I've been awake for a good portion of the night. It is following this realisation that I am suddenly overwhelmed with an extremely great surge of weariness.
Against my better judgement I step outside for some fresh air. Leaving the torch beside Haymitch, I push aside the branch obscuring the entrance.
Once outside, I take a deep breath. My head is still clearing of the fogginess of sleep as I slowly take in my immediate surrounds.
The dark trees loom ominously against the even darker backdrop of the woods. The moon is no longer visible, seeing that it is now in the west. To the east is the tiniest hint of light.
I breathe through my nose and out my mouth.
As I breathe out, my breath appears before me as a cloud of mist, evidence of just how cold it is outside in the open woods.
Soon I head back inside.
I cover up the entrance and retrieve the torch. As I pick the torch up, I notice movement in the corner of my peripheral vision.
I look up in time to see Haymitch open his eyes.
"Hey," he rasps upon seeing me.