Part 2: The Rescue
A monstrous vine is wrapped around my waist, squeezing tighter and tighter by the minute. The swamp is alive with them, all trying to get ahold of me. It must be some kind of muttation that the Gamemakers invented. Another vine snatches up my left arm. I cry out in pain as it slowly tries to pull off my arm. The pressure from the plant around my waist becomes unbearable. Finally, I can't help myself.
"Help! Somebody help me!" I scream at the top of my lungs. No answer. I know, screaming is not the smartest thing to do in an arena full of bloodthirsty Careers, but you try to stay quiet when a muttation is squeezing the life out of you.
Suddenly, the vine wrapped around my arm goes limp, followed by the one on my abdomen. I fall to the ground, gasping in relief, and retch. I have no idea what I am throwing up, as I haven't eaten in several hours, at least. Finally, I gain control of myself and stop vomiting.
A woman is standing over me, a sword in her right hand and a tattered cloth in her left. She hands the cloth to me, and I accept it gratefully, wiping the dribble from my chin. Taking the metal flask out of my pack, I slowly take a few short sips, clearing my mouth of bile. I notice the green goo dripping from my rescuer's blade.
"Who… who are you?" I manage to get out. She chuckles.
"I'm Gwynneth." I get a closer look at her face and realize that she is much younger than I had thought. For some reason, I had thought that she was a woman. But of course not, because she is in the hunger games. Gwynneth offers me a hand up.
"But, why haven't you killed me yet?" I ask in confusion. She laughs again. But this time, it ends as a choked sound; almost a sob.
"I'm not like the other Careers," is all she says. Then I see the number two stitched across the back of her shirt. I hear a cannon go off. 12 tributes left.
"So, are we like, allies now?" I ask her, rubbing my shoulder. Gwynneth shrugs.
"Well, we haven't killed each other yet. I guess that makes us allies." A moment of silence ensues.
"By the way, thanks for saving my life," I say, flushing with embarrassment at how pathetic it sounds. My rescuer only laughs and pats me on the shoulder. The friendly gesture surprises me; it seemed almost….. motherly.
"So, where is your little District 12 friend?" she asks me, taking stock of her supplies. My surprise at this must show on my face, because she looks up and says, "I've been watching you, Terrica. You are quite handy with those knives of yours." Coming from anyone else, this would sound creepy, but the way Gwynneth tells me this, it's like she was looking out for me; guarding me. What bothers me is how she knows my name, considering we just met. Then I remember what she said about keeping an eye on me. She must have picked it up along the way.
Suddenly, there is a rustling sound nearby. Gwynneth immediately stuffs her things back in the pack. She puts a finger to her lips and slowly makes her way toward the sound, sword drawn. I do the same, careful not to step on any twigs or dried leaves.
A wild rabbit darts out of the bushes, and Gwynneth bursts into laughter. I join her, and we lean against each other. It feels good after all the pressure of survival lately.
Someone jumps out into the open, eliding an axe. We both stop laughing and jump to our feet, and I get this sudden sense of utter doom. Gwynneth is staring at him, clearly trying to suppress the fear threatening to spill out in her demeanor. It's her fellow District 2 tribute.
"Gwynn," he snarls. "You should have stayed with the pack." Despite the fact that he is much bigger than her, Gwynneth sets her jaw determinedly and takes a step forward. I fear for my friend's life, because her grip tightens on the hilt of her sword, and her eyes narrow in determination. But there is something else there, too. All of the stress seems to leave her body, and Gwynneth exhales slowly. Despite the fact that he is much bigger than her, my friend says,
"I would never join your group of murderers, Gavin. You are all a bunch of fools." And then, she does something so gutsy and courageous that it gives me newfound courage. Gwynneth spits in Gavinaugh's face. He turns purple with rage, lets out a shriek, and swings his blade at her face. She drops to the ground and rolls aside in an attempt to escape her attacker's weapon. He nearly chops off her hand, opening a jagged wound in her arm.
"Run, Terrica!" Gwynneth screams at me. Naturally, when she gives the command, my feet are rooted to the ground. Gavinaugh seems to notice me for the first time. The look on his face seems to wake me up. Without a second thought, I unhook a dagger from my belt and hurl it at Gavinaugh. It lodges in his chest, but he just stares at it, unmoving. Gwynneth's breath is coming in uneven rasps now, blood pooling on the forest floor.
All of the sudden, Gavin's body is pulled backward violently. He claws at thin air, desperately trying to free himself from the monster vine. I watch with grim satisfaction mixed with horror as it squeezes him to death. A cannon booms. I drop to the ground at Gwynneth's side.
"Go," she croaks.
"No," I whisper. "You are going to live." Digging my medicine kit out of my pack, I try to stem the flow of blood pouring from her wounds.
Gwynneth just smiles faintly, which makes me start to cry. Suddenly, her eyes lock on mine, and she grasps my hand.
"Win for me," she rasps, her eyes taking on a burning, almost feverish, intensity.
"I will," I respond hoarsely. Then, her eyes glaze over and I close them gently. A cannon goes off, and just like that, both tributes from District 2 are gone. I start to walk away, then stop and turn around. I lift the three middle fingers of my left hand to my lips and hold them out to her. Before I can start to sob again, I wipe the tears from my face, grab up Gwynn and mine's bags, and start running. My ankle protests fiercely, but I keep going.
Soon, I realize that I've left swampland. Emerging into a clearing, I spot a bubbling stream and strip to my underclothes. With a sigh of relief, I step into the cool water and sink down on my knees. I twirl the water around my fingers absent- mindedly. After a while, I step out onto the mossy ground and proceed to rummage through the packs.
Gwynneth's backpack contains a dagger, a few pieces of wild squirrel, a half-full flask of water, and a pouch of edible nuts and berries. I condense all of these things, deciding to use Gwynneth's pack, as it has shoulder straps and is much more portable. Then, I begin to build a makeshift splint for my foot. After setting my ankle, I bathe for a few minutes more, and rinse my clothes.
When I'm finished, I feel considerably better. Physically, at least. But inside, there is a hole in my heart. Even though I've known her for such a short time, Gwynneth made me feel secure- at least as secure as I could feel in the arena. Now I feel bare, vulnerable, exposed. I pull my hair back and begin to dress.
That night, I climb another tree. I can feel my heart; a raw, stinging lump in my chest break when I see Gwynneth's face appears in the sky. Why do I feel so close to a career? Why can't I just let her go, like all the other dead? I keep asking myself. There are now 10 tributes alive. Surprisingly, I am able to sleep fairly well. Maybe because of the exhausting battle with Gavinaugh.
When I awaken, the sky is a fresh pink color. I manage to choke down a few berries and leftover squirrel, washing it down with a long pull from my flask. I start walking in no particular direction, my pack slung over my good shoulder, a dagger clutched in my fingers. I'm not sure how much time passes, but soon, after trekking through the woods, I come across a stream. Bending down to drink, I don't notice the flecks of purple until it is almost too late. I sit back on my heels.
A memory flits through my head. Ah, yes. One of Harrison's survival lessons. He had told me that purple almost always means poison. On impulse, I throw the remains of my squirrel in the water and watch as it shrivels up to nothing. Quickly, I memorize the clearing where the stream is located. An extra weapon against the other tributes.
When I start walking again, I realize that the hurt in my ankle has gone down considerably. I look down to see that the swelling has, too. Just then, a herring flits up onto an overhanging branch and perches there. I throw my knife, ending its life on impact. Cleaning the weapon on a patch of grass, I wrap up the herring in a piece of cloth and stuff it in my pack.
I'm walking along a narrow dirt path when I see him. Jareth is stumbling through the trees toward me, covered in blood. His stomach is ripped open, the arm wound that he got from Flick is oozing purple and yellow, and bruises cover his face and body. My feet are frozen to the ground.
"They're coming!" he gasps at me. Jareth's eyes are wild as he hobbles closer. He barely makes it a few feet away when his intestines spill out onto the ground and he collapses at my feet, dead. I hear the cannon go off, and I start running right away. I can hear someone- wait, more than just one person- crashing through the undergrowth.
As I run for my life, naturally, my stupid foot begins to throb. Someone shoves me from behind, and I fall forward onto the leaf-littered ground. A blade presses into my arm, deeper and deeper in my flesh. I feel a kick in my side, and pain explodes through my body like electric shocks. Shouts and curses fill the air, and my vision goes black.
End Part 2
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~ Ella Norway~