Chapter 24
Haymitch wakes me up so that he can get a little sleep himself.
As he lies back on the grass, I sit up from where I had been sleeping. I sit with my legs bent in front of me, my elbows resting on my knees, and my hands twirling around the small hunting knife I procured from that psychotic tribute from District 8.
The full moon illuminates the entire clearing in a wash of pale light.
Rustling in the nearby bushes has me on edge until I see a small white rabbit bound out of it. I'm reminded of the little rabbit that had led me to safety back when the volcano erupted. I smile, then, keeping a close eye on it until it disappears into the woods. As the last of its hind legs and tail goes out of view, I am also reminded of the white rabbit with the pocket watch from Alice in Wonderland. My mother, being a fan of Lewis Carroll, would read that story to Meredith and me when we were a great deal younger. I was always fond of that book and enjoyed many of the quotes found in it.
Soon bored of twisting the knife around, I place it back in its sheath strapped to my thigh. Then I stare back up at the night sky.
I try to indentify all the constellations that Haymitch had shown me, but can only find about half of them. Eventually giving up, I try to come up with my own. With this, I am able to find a ladle, a scorpion, a turtle, a penguin, and even a centaur.
Amazed, I go on staring, watching as the stars slowly vanish one-by-one. As the stars fade, the sun is there to slowly take its place.
I run my fingers absentmindedly through my hair. Vaguely I feel something in it, something small; almost minuscule. Bringing my hand down towards eye level, I see that there is dry blood in my hair.
Probably from when the squirrels were scratching at my head.
I go about running my fingers through my hair, trying to get the dry blood and dirt out of it. Then I go back go staring at the vanishing stars.
With dawn fast approaching, I decide that Haymitch would want to be woken.
As I reach over and begin shaking him awake a trembling deep in the ground causes me to fall. I end up falling forwards, sprawled on top of Haymitch.
He wakes with a grunt.
I turn my head to see him looking back at me. "There are other ways of waking me, you know," Haymitch says. "Or have you fallen for me already?" he continues with a cocky grin.
Cheeks burning hot, I quickly get off him.
"The ground suddenly shook as I was waking you up," I explain.
Right around then, there is another shaking of the ground.
Haymitch sits up and frowns. "It could be another volcanic eruption."
My stomach drops at the possibility.
"All the more reason to start moving as soon as possible," he continues.
With that, we eat some hog meat and half a mint cookie before packing up our things.
We exit the clearing and enter back into the woods.
There is still some pre-morning mist shrouding the woods in mystery as we walk through the trees at the edge of the clearing.
As we move along through the woods I can't help but think about the erupting volcano.
Like it is doing now, the ground had shook hours prior to the eruption. Back then I couldn't understand it, simply chalking it up to an earthquake. Now, as I begin thinking about it, all the pieces start to fit together and it all starts making a lot of sense.
Volcanos are caused by plates shifting in the ground. That shifting could easily be mistaken for an earthquake. This means we may very well have another volcano eruption on our hands.
And this makes complete sense, seeing as how there were no deaths yesterday.
The Capitol is bound to get restless. The Gamemakers are simply keeping things interesting.
So with these recent revelations, I trudge on behind Haymitch with a heavy heart.
As predicted, the ground continues shaking throughout the rest of the morning. In fact, it gets so bad to the point that Haymitch and I almost decide to wear the goggles and respirators in our possession. However, I point out that no ash is falling down from the sky and therefore it's not likely to be the volcano. So we agree that it must just be a regular earthquake.
At one point, an unexpected earthquake causes me to lose my footing. I would have fallen had Haymitch not caught my wrist in time.
When finally afternoon arrives, we decide to rest and get something to eat.
Climbing up a tree, I poke my head up to get a view of the arena.
As I thought, the sky is a clear blue with clouds drifting here and there. The volcano remains dormant and looks like the snow-capped mountain we all thought it to be. I'm completely taken aback by how tiny it looks, though. From here, the volcano looks like a speck in the distance. I turn the other way, the way we're been heading all along, to see if I can make out anything. I can't be sure but there looks to be a massive green wall at the end of the forest. The end of the forest, in question, looks to be a day to twos walk away.
Excitedly climb down the tree; I explain to Haymitch what I saw.
"We might be able to make it to the end of the woods in one or two days," I finish excitedly.
"That's great," Haymitch replies enthusiastically. Well, as enthusiastically as he is able to get.
We eat sitting on a fallen log.
I eat the boar with new vigour. Or so it looks.
I'm putting on a front because truthfully I have mixed feelings about reaching the end of the woods. On the one hand, we've been walking through it for so long I won't be sorry when we leave it behind us. One the other hand, we are that much closer to the end of the arena and therefore the end of our alliance.
I think to how much fun last night was, with Haymitch pointing out constellations. We've been through a heck of an ordeal since the start of this alliance. If I'm being completely honest, I'll be sorry when we have to end this thing we have going; protecting and looking out for each other.
But it can't come down to the two of us. It just can't.
Haymitch, having eaten enough and holding a bottle of water, gets up.
I quickly put the rest of the wild boar meat away before standing up myself. Giving myself a quick dust off, I nod to Haymitch.
With that, we head off further towards the end of the woods again.
After we've walked for about an hour or two, I begin to get thirsty again. So I pull out a bottle and take small sips as we keep going.
Haymitch does the same.
It's another long day, but knowing just how close we are to the end of this seemingly endless forest, I push on with new zest.
As we're trekking on, I notice that several of the scratches and bites inflicted by the fluffy squirrels begin to itch quite badly. I inspect my arms and see nothing out of the ordinary. Granted, some of the small wounds are red, they don't appear to be a cause for concern. Just yet.
Ignoring it, I decide to inspect the wounds more thoroughly once we stop for a rest again.
The next time we stop, another three hours must have passed.
My legs are aching and my head is pounding. I sit on an overgrown tree root and gulp down some water. Haymitch takes a seat beside me.
We silently drink our water, giving ourselves the chance to rest.
I put away my water bottle and do what I've been meaning to do for the past three hours. Lifting my arms for inspection, I gasp, seeing that the red wounds are even redder now. It is slowly spreading out to the rest of my skin.
Haymitch hears the commotion and takes a look himself.
"You need to clean out those wounds," he states calmly enough.
"It's too late now," I say regretfully, "It looks as though most of it has been infected already."
Haymitch remains silent for a moment, thinking. "It's not too late. What you need is an antibiotic."
He digs into his bag, looking for something.
Unable to find what it is he is searching for, he looks back at me. "Where's that cream that was in here?"
I chew on my lip a little before answering. "I used it all on you after the whole encounter with that guy from 6."
"You shouldn't have done that."
"I didn't know what else to do," I say defensively, frowning slightly.
Haymitch zips his bag and shoulders it. "It doesn't matter now. What's done is done. Let's go."
I hurry after him, wondering what will happen if my wounds are left untreated, how much time I have left. Grim thoughts, but I have to be realistic.
Haymitch leads us forward quickly, not wasting any time. At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if we reach the end of the woods by nightfall.
I don't know from where he gets his reserves of energy, because as surely as the sun is setting in the west, I can slowly feel my energy draining.
The longer we walk the more often do I lag behind. Every time this happens, Haymitch is forced to stop and wait for me.
This goes on for awhile, too often for me to keep track of, until Haymitch finally says that maybe another break is in order.
I couldn't agree more.
So we sit, on the ground with our backs against a tree. I pull out my drink bottle, shocked to find one 600ml almost empty.
Not one to be deterred so easily, I calmly drink from that bottle.
As we continue to rest in the late afternoon, something in the sky catches our attention.
It's a parachute.
Haymitch gets up and catches it just as it is within his reach. He quickly pulls apart the thin strings and pushes aside the lid.
"What is it?" I ask, getting up on my feet and walking quickly over to him.
"An antibiotic," he answers, pulling out a jar of honey, "Just like you needed."
I stare at him in complete disbelief.
He laughs. "Don't look so surprised to find that you've got sponsors, Donner."
I blink a couple of times, dumbfounded. "Well maybe it's for you," I say. "You know how plain those drop biscuits are." The tone I use for that second sentence is laced with affection, so I don't worry about anyone in District 12 taking offence.
"There is no way I'll use it when it's much better spent on you," Haymitch states, placing the small jar into my hands.
"Thanks," I say, feeling touched.
"Thank me by using it right now," he replies, sitting back down. I sit down too.
Opening the jar, I dip my index and middle finger into it. Then I proceed to coat any particularly nasty wounds on my arms and legs with honey. Once done, I even lift my shirt up slightly, exposing my stomach, and attend to those ones there too.
All done, I replace the lid on the jar and add it into my backpack. Then I turn to Haymitch, who is practicing his knots on the string attached to the parachute.
I freeze when I see it.
Haymitch notices. "What is it?"
"I just realised that I cut my hair for no reason," I say, absolutely horrified.
He looks down at his hands and seems to get it. "Oh, because you could've used a string from the parachute," Haymitch speculates.
I can only nod in shock. "I was so tired and worried about you that I wasn't even thinking straight."
"It'll grow back," he offers helpfully, if a little uncertainly.
"Let's just go," I say tiredly.
Evidently grateful for an exit out of the conversation, Haymitch agrees ardently.
We resume our journey out of the woods. As we do, my mind goes back to the small jar of honey in the pack. Then it's thinking about Konrad, the person who sent it in the first place.
I'm reminded of our last conversation together; about the repercussions of being in the Games. Then I'm thinking about him as a mentor.
I think about how every year he is forced to face two kids. Two kids he is expected to keep alive for as long as possible in a place where other kids are trying to kill them. How year after year, for the last decade, he is forced to watch as they die right before his eyes. How deep down he blames himself for their deaths. How, even though they are gone, he is bound to see their parents and family members. What could you possibly say to them?
"Have you ever thought about what it means to be a mentor?" I suddenly ask Haymitch as we carry on moving through the woods.
"Only that you get to live in a nice big house with your family and that your entire district is better off for a year because of it."
"No," I say, "I meant what it really means. Think about what Konrad goes through every year."
"It's crap, is that what you're trying to get at?"
"I guess."
"Then, yes, I have thought about it. But the alternative is death. And I'm not about to just roll over and die. My family needs me."
"That's amazing when you put it that way," I acknowledge.
"It's just common sense," Haymitch says, his tone leaving no room for any more idle chitchat.
I take the hint and remain silent as we walk through to late dusk.
It gets frightfully colder as night descends. As we stop for the day and eat, I shudder to think of sleeping in such cold weather.
"We can't possibly sleep out in the open in this weather," I comment.
"We should build a lean-to," Haymitch suggests.
I give him an odd stare.
"What?" he asks.
"Nothing, I'm just wondering if we can make one big enough for two."
Haymitch shrugs. "Nothing venture, nothing gained."
First thing we find are very long but very strong branches. I strip the largest branch of its leaves as Haymitch finds more we can use.
Once we're both done, we focus our attention on building the backbone of the shelter, tying off the largest branch on two trees standing a good distance apart. Before we proceed any further, we test out the strength of the backbone we made.
Being tied off with rope on both ends it doesn't come as a great surprise to find that it more than meets our requirements.
Next, we start lining up closely the rest of the branches against the backbone of the shelter at a forty-five degree angle. I place our jackets on the place where backbone and branches meet, hoping that that would stop the branches from being unstable.
Finally, we cover the sides of the lean-to with smaller branches. These sides are also known as the ribs. Altogether, it takes us two hours to complete the lean-on.
Stepping back to admire the work, I am rather impressed by how stable it looks.
"Not bad," Haymitch comments beside me.
Knowing that he would want to take first watch, I move towards the back of the lean-to, giving Haymitch plenty of room to sit by its entrance.
I eventually fall asleep, the fact that no one died today not lost on me.