Author's Note / Hello! I know y'all thought I had forgotten this fic but I didn't! Here's a lengthy chapter to prove that I love you all 3
We are only five chapters away for this story to end and I can't tell you how happy it makes me to hear that you guys like it. Thank you for your support!
There are eighteen tributes dead. Today is my seventeenth day in the Arena.
I open my eyes in the darkness, the pain in my leg is even more unbearable when I do it, so I close my eyes again but it doesn't work. Danny wakes up when I groan and I sigh. In the dark the blood stained bandage that covers my leg looks less threatening, but it's the poison what worries me most.
"Katniss," he whispers and I shift my eyes to his worried ones. We watch each other in silence, and I realize that he doesn't really know what to say.
"I'm going to be fine, Boss. They'll heal me up when we get home." My voice sounds awfully sure, and I want to believe in it as much as he does. But I know none of us do.
"Are you hungry?" I ask after a moment and he nods.
"But you can't hunt, Katniss. You are sick."
I start sitting up in protest but he stops me, his hands used to be soft and plump. His nails used to be always stained with flour and food coloring, a few burns here and there. But as he stops me I am painfully aware of the dirt underneath his nails and the bruises and cuts that the Arena has caused.
"I set some snares while you were sleeping, I'll check on them now."
Silently, I watch his blonde curls make their way down the tree and my stomach turns. How am I supposed to climb down now that the adrenaline is gone? The simple thought of resting some weight on top of my leg is unbearable.
Only now it makes sense that they didn't run after me. They knew the poison would take care of me for them, they just need to wait for the canon to go off and track Danny's cries to his hideout. I shiver.
"Come on Haymitch, send me something," I murmur to myself, hating the fact that I have to ask for help. But the night remains undisturbed and no parachutes come down. I sigh and let my head fall against the rough bark of the tree. Moments later I can hear Danny's distinct footsteps approaching the tree.
"I just realized it's probably not wise to start a fire now," he muses climbing up. "I got some berries."
I extend my hand when he offers his and I grab just a handful of berries, leaving him the bigger share.
"What are we going to do Katniss?" He asks after a long time, the terror in his voice is evident, and my voice trembles when I reply.
"I don't know."
The trumpets wake me up, and it takes me longer than it should to process their meaning. I can't imagine how crazy the people in the Capitol are going. Interaction with the tributes is something that certainly doesn't happen often, but this is the second announcement in the Games.
Claudius Templesmith, my new best friend, announces a feast and I relax against the tree. For a moment I feared the rule change had been revised and forgotten.
"A feast Katniss." In many ways, Danny is still a child. His eyes sparkled in the light at the prospect of a present. Where I saw a death trap.
"We don't need their food, Danny." I remind him, but Claudius steps in as if he was listening to our conversation. And most probably he was.
"Now hold on. Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately."
I give myself away easily when my worried eyes land on my leg, in the light it seems even more terrifying. When I look up I know Danny is thinking the same thing.
"Each of you will find something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the Cornucopia at dawn tomorrow. The backpacks will remain there for fifteen minutes before they disappear. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance," says Claudius.
There's nothing else, just his words hanging in the air. It just takes a couple of minutes before my mind jumps into action. If I manage to get close enough before dawn and hide myself well, then I can take out whoever shows up with my bow and arrow.
I know for a fact that Foxface is too smart to even consider going to the feast, but I guess that depends entirely on whatever it is that she desperately needs.
Clove and Cato will be there for sure, because they know I will be there too. It scares me how my fingers ache for revenge. In the best case scenario the four of them would be there and I could take them all out without a sweat. And then Danny and I could go home.
A bag being zipped brings me out of my fantasies, my mouth falls when I see Danny fixing the backpack on his back and preparing to climb down.
"Where the hell are you going?" My voice is colder than I ever though it could be when talking to him. But he doesn't flinch, and that frightens me.
"You need the medicine, Katniss." He is frowning, and his voice only wavers once as he attempts to look taller by straightening his back. All I can see is the little boy that followed Peeta's steps back to the bakery. But I know he feels like a man. "You know I am right, Katniss. If you don't get it the poison will get to your heart, or your lungs or something and you'll die and you… you can't die. Not because of me."
"Well you can't exactly walk into the Cornucopia and expect them to give you our pack just because you ask nicely, Danny," I spit and he frowns deeper.
"Then I'm supposed to sit here and wait for you to die?"
"You are supposed to sit here and let me take care of you!"
He is fuming, but so am I. We hold each other's glares for a while before he removes the bag from his back and readjusts his position on the branch to give his back to me. It hurts, but not half as much as it would to see his face in the sky.
Sixteen hours for the feast. A fifteen minutes-wide window of opportunity. A little less than fourteen feet separating me from the ground.
Somehow Danny manages to climb just a few branches down before jumping and landing perfectly. I had been dozing off for a few minutes, and I assume he took it as a cue for his escape.
"Daniel!" I hiss.
"I'm sorry, I'll be back," he promises in a whisper before disappearing in the forest.
The pain in my leg intensifies by a hundred as I watch him leave, painfully aware that if anything happens to that kid it is on me and my stupidity.
The birds fly away scared when I scream in frustration, half wishing the Careers would come to get me. But they don't, and I am left alone in the treetops to sulk.
After a few minutes, I gather enough self-control to put my belongings in my backpack and prepare myself to follow the baker's son. It takes me way more than it usually does, and my leg protests when I land on the floor.
I am about thirteen meters away from the Cornucopia. The night fell on me hours ago and the dawn is threatening to come soon. Danny is also nowhere to be found. The weight of the eyes of the twelve Districts is unbearable as I look for him.
"Danny," I whisper. Knowing it is entirely hopeless, but my heart still sinks when there is no answer. "Damn it Danny, where are you?"
The Arena is still, and for the first time I cannot hear birds or squirrels around me. The world seems awfully quiet without Danny's too-loud-breaths against my neck while we walk.
Many things happen at the same time:
The sun comes out unexpectedly fast, confirming once again that everything that happens in the Arena is entirely Gamemaker-controlled. The ground before the mouth of the horn splits in two and a round table with a white cloth rises into the arena, the cloth is so white it almost hurts my eyes. I can't remember the last time I saw something so clean. On the table sit four backpacks. A countdown appears on top of the Cornucopia, marking the time we have to gather our packs and get the hell out.
My eyes remain fixed on the numbers before a sudden movement catches my attention, a figure darts out of the Cornucopia, snags the green backpack with the number 5 and speeds off. Foxface! Leave it to her to come up with such a clever and risky idea.
Somewhere around that table, hidden into the vegetation, Clove, Cato, Thresh, (possibly Danny) and I are glaring at her as she runs away. We are still sizing the situation and she already has whatever it is that she needed. Now we are all trapped, because none of us wants to go after her, and no one wants to be the first one to go for their pack.
That should have been my strategy!
Instead, I'm left powerless as I try to figure out Danny's.
When the clock marks eleven minutes a second, much smaller, figure darts off the horn, grabbing the pack marked 12 and starting to run off to the forest, mimicking Foxface's strategy. And maybe he would have succeeded if my subconscious hadn't betrayed me.
Against my better judgement I cry out his name, and Danny stops on his feet to listen to me.
Those ten seconds are everything Clove needs to corner him.