Chapter 25
Dawn must still be a good couple of hours away when I wake up.
Turning at the sound of me sitting up, Haymitch sees that I have woken.
We change places as he sleeps and I take over on sentinel duty.
As I sit keeping watch, I shiver when a particularly strong gale of wind brushes by. Seeing as how there haven't been any deaths in the past two days, I can't help but wonder whether or not the Gamemakers are purposely bringing about the winds.
Maybe they hope that by making the arena as cold as possible, someone will eventually become desperate enough to light a fire.
It certainly seems like something they'd do.
Taking my mind off the Gamemakers, I try to think about anything else. That's when I realise that today will be day thirteen in the arena. I almost can't even be sure; keeping track of time is that difficult. Time seems to move differently in here than it does out there.
I sigh, staring around for any signs of movement. It's not that easy to do seeing as the wind is making the entire woods move.
Drinking water, I wait a little impatiently for morning, sitting restlessly with my mind all over the place.
I can't help but wonder what lies at the end of the arena. How long it will be until this alliance ends. When the next death will be.
Getting up quietly, I decide to take a walk to calm my racing mind.
I pace back and forth. After doing this for ten minutes, I am surprised to find that it actually works. My head clears and I try keeping it blank.
Eventually I'm calm enough to sit back down, watching as the sky grows lighter.
Despite my restlessness, I leave Haymitch to sleep. He can wake up on his own.
A very long hour later and that is what he does.
We eat some more wild boar and I finish off the other half of the mint cookie I'd been saving. Eventually, it is time to move again. We get our jackets and ropes first before going anywhere.
As the day progresses, the weather becomes perceptibly warmer. The wind even dies out. Encouraged by the warm weather, animals slowly begin venturing out of their shelters to bask in the sun.
Haymitch and I are careful not to let any of them get too close.
During our first break of the day, I decide to climb a tree to see how much more walking we have to do.
My heart sinks.
Despite our quick pace and the wide distance we covered yesterday, the huge green wall looks to be about a good days walk.
Climbing back down, I explain the situation to Haymitch.
He doesn't seem too deterred. "We better get a move on, then," he says.
With that, we resume our hike.
I strain my ears for sounds of a cannon, both hoping to hear and not hear it at the same time.
Another death means the bloodlust of the Capitol will be sated for the time being, and therefore no Gamemakers intervention. There's no telling what they will come up with next otherwise.
However, another death means there will only be four of us left. Haymitch and I would be that much closer to being forced to face each other.
But no cannon sound.
We trail on through the woods at a good pace, one I can easily keep up with.
Breaks aren't all that frequent, but when we do take them, I make use of each one.
The next rest we have is on some flat rocks by some small trees in the forest. I take this time to get out the small jar of honey and reapply it to the same wounds as the previous day.
They look like they could be getting better already, I notice with relief.
Maybe it wasn't too late after all.
Soon we are heading towards the end of the woods again. We don't talk much, only the occasional communication relating to breaks and whatnot.
I refrain from asking loads of questions, for which Haymitch is surely grateful for.
"You're unusually quiet," he ends up commenting.
"There isn't much to talk about," I shrug off.
"I just thought you'd be chatting away nonstop, now that we know the end of the woods is so close."
I scowl half-heartedly. "I don't talk that often."
Haymitch laughs once, "If you say so."
Rolling my eyes, I move on without comment, not willing to add fuel to the fire that is his perception of my 'talkative' personality.
"So do you think the Gamemakers will make a move, now that two days have passed without any deaths?" Haymitch asks, obviously trying to engage me in conversation.
"Possibly," I say shortly.
"What do you think they'll do?"
"Beats me."
Soon we take another break.
I use this time to apply some more honey onto my irritated wounds. We quickly drink some water before it is time to go again.
The morning drags on, seemingly longer in my opinion. But then, it could just be my imagination. Eventually the wind returns, thankfully not nearly as bad as it was the previous night.
I can still feel the dirt and dusk flying into my hair and eyes and mouth.
No, the wind now is just enough the chase away the slightly warm weather the sun is beating down. For which I am grateful.
Another hour passes and I'm beginning to feel the lack of sleep.
I march on tiredly, slowing down every now and again. This fact isn't lost on Haymitch, who is forced to stop each and every time and wait for me to eventually catch up to where he is.
It isn't long before another rest is in order.
I lean against a tree and look upwards.
A brilliant clear sky pokes out from the gaps in the ceiling of the forest created by the tops of trees. The greens of the leaves vary in different shades, and the wind creates even more hues as they rustle away gently.
I must've fallen asleep, because before I know it, Haymitch is crouched in front of me and shaking me awake.
"I fell asleep," I stated dazedly.
"That's why you shouldn't keep insisting on starting your watch early," Haymitch says. "Let me tell you when to start your watch."
"Okay, fine," I reply, still much too tired to reply, despite of the nap.
Haymitch stands up, offering me a hand. "Let's get going."
I get back on my feet with his help.
He turns and walks off, me quickly following behind.
It's a very long morning of walking and pretty soon my legs start to ache again. But I persevere, wanting to reach the end of the woods as soon as possible. So, ignoring my legs I strive to keep up with Haymitch.
We walk until early afternoon, when we decide to sit for a lunchbreak.
Sitting in a tree, Haymitch and I eat a bit more boar before splitting a drop biscuit.
"The wild hog will only last us about one more day," I comment, wrapping it up and putting it in my ragged backpack.
"We can always hunt something else when we run out of meat," Haymitch suggests, breaking a biscuit and handing me half.
Taking the half biscuit, I nod in agreement. Hopefully we'll run into a raccoon.
Once we've eaten that and gotten some water into us, we set off again.
As we traverse the woods, I look around anxiously for anything out of the ordinary.
I'm half expecting the Gamemakers to unleash their latest abomination, or initiate something that will only endanger our lives and make life in the arena more difficult than it already is.
But nothing appears and nothing happens.
Maybe I should stop being so on edge.
But no, being constantly on the alert is what keeps you alive in the arena. It might put a massive strain on you mentally, but it's better to be safe than sorry. That's what I firmly believe, anyway.
The warm early afternoon brings with it nothing particularly eventful.
We hike on, ignoring all the deceptive beauty that the arena offers.
I'm so focused and concentrated on observing our surroundings that I almost didn't catch it when Haymitch asks, "What's one of your interests?"
I'm completely taken aback by the unexpected the question. "Where'd that question come from?"
Haymitch shrugs casually. "I'm just trying to figure out what your talent would be; should you become the victor this year."
Since being a victor means you're set for life, you aren't expected to either work in school or your district's industry. Therefore victors take up some activity of interest, something they can be interviewed about.
This activity of interest is referred to as their talent.
Konrad's talent was calligraphy. He could use both quill and brush expertly. Personally, I think he didn't care much for it and only took it up because he had to show the public something. Because as soon as the next victor was announced the following year, and interest was directed away from him, Konrad stopped. Or so I've been told.
"What are you-," I shake my head and start again, "I like flower arranging."
"I'm sure Jack would be thrilled to hear that."
Jack's parents own a little florist shop in town back in Twelve.
"What would your talent be?" I ask Haymitch.
"Chess," he replies easily.
We continue onwards, my head swimming from that conversation.
I still find it hard to process the fact that Haymitch had asked such a trivial and mundane question. Much less a personal one.
"Are you feeling okay?" I ask, turning to inspect his face.
He looks perfectly healthy to me, if a little worn down. Given what we've been through in the Games so far, I can't blame him.
"Fine," he replies, "why do you ask?"
"No reason," I answer quickly, "just curious."
Thankfully, Haymitch drops the subject and we resume walking in a peaceful silence.
Afternoon seems to stretch on for what essentially feels like an eternity.
We trudge on through the woods at what feels like a decent pace. So it becomes incomprehensible to me as to why we don't seem to be getting any closer to the edge of the woods. Just to be on the safe side, I even climb a tree to make sure we were heading in the right direction.
As it turns out, we are.
But the distance between where we currently are and the edge of the woods is still very far. Clearly I underestimated the distance we had left to traverse.
Wanting to cover as much distance as possible while there is still sunlight out, I climb down the tree, tired, but still filled with a great zeal to see the end of the woods.
The afternoon wanes at an almost intolerable rate.
I begin thinking about how it was that I had got into the art of floral arranging in the first place. And that is all thanks to Lyanna.
Lyanna was Jack's sister. She was older than us by six years and was Meredith and my babysitter up until we turned seven. We would be walked to the florist shop and stay there while our parents minded our own store. Other times, we would go straight there after school, walking with Jack and Lyanna.
It wasn't that my parents couldn't look after us themselves while they ran the sweetshop, but Lyanna was always looking for ways to earn a little money on the side for her own parents. She found a way of doing that through babysitting us.
It was during our times at the florist that Lyanna had introduced both Meredith and me to flower arranging. I'd taken to it much faster than Meredith, much to her chagrin.
Thinking about Lyanna is bittersweet in that it brings with it several emotions.
It brings nostalgia, remembering those long afternoons dedicated to flower arranging. It brings about happiness, remembering how much fun we had. And it brings about sadness, knowing we will never see her again.
When she was fifteen, Lyanna had a fatal asthma attack. She was home alone and without a working inhaler.
Ever since her death, Jack has kept his distance from Meredith and me. Seeing us must bring painful memories of his sister.
Haymitch leads us closer to the edge of the forest. By now it's late afternoon. My nerves are taut and muscles tense. I continue glancing about, more uptight than ever as time goes by with still no deaths. Haymitch is obviously tense too, by the haunch of his shoulders and the way he grips the strap of his backpack until his knuckles turn white.
Today seems to put a major strain on the both of us, physically and mentally.
I'm also partly in a foul mood now realising that there is still a long while to go before we will reach the end of the woods. Realising, also, that despite the arduous journey we've made so far it doesn't look as though we even covered that much distance.
I tell myself to hold on for just a little while longer, that surely this time tomorrow we'd have reached the end of the woods.
Eventually, after several hours of walking, we decide that it is time to rest.
Haymitch and I sit in a tree and wait for our strengths to return. We couldn't have rested for any more than five minutes before we're climbing back down and resuming our journey.
The longer we stay in the woods the more convinced I am that the Gamemakers must be making the forest stretch on longer than it was before.
The longer we stay in the woods the more I must be slowly going insane.
Finally I decide to give my mind time off from its slow descent into insanity by forcing myself to admire the beauty of the woods.
I force myself to really admire the different hues of the different trees. I force myself to appreciate the woodsy aroma permeating the air. Haymitch and I discreetly pass by a stag and doe and I tell myself how majestic and wonderful they look, standing proudly like some guardians of the forest.
Soon we take another short break, this time sitting on the root of an old tree. I take this opportunity to use some more honey on myself.
Once we're back on our feet and moving along, I take several sips of water.
I begin looking around nervously again as time continues to pass by without anything happening.
Just what exactly do those Gamemakers have planned?
Before long any rustling in the bushes or up a tree has me constantly reaching for the smooth handle of the knife at my side. My eyes dart every which way, unable to focus on the one spot for long.
It's early dusk now and I'm beginning to wonder just how much distance we covered altogether today.
Half an hour passes before we agree to take another rest stop.
As Haymitch and I rest in another tree, we see something completely unexpected. The sight of it renders us utterly speechless, though honestly we haven't been doing that much talking anyway.
We continue to stare at the sky, where not one, but two parachutes are floating down to us.