Chapter 7: Guardian Angel
As I predicted, the next morning and all the rest of that day is quiet. No deaths. And no Gamemaker traps. All we Victors do is watch the remaining tributes get dumped on in a downpour of rain. It's only water, and who knows how valuable it could be as sustenance? Nevertheless, I am proud of Dean not taking any chances, finding shelter underneath a pile of logs to prevent hypothermia.
The only other interesting points of entertainment are watching the talking heads coverage by Caesar and his partner, Claudius Templesmith. Occasionally, they go out and interview Capitol fans. Many are disappointed that the Final Eight has been reached so quickly, as it has resulted in a spike of prices within the gambling pool. Most citizens are satisfied with the carnage so far, but hope more comes soon and quickly. The stupidity of these people and their desire for bloodshed still never fails to nauseate me. It's barely been one day, and they're already growing restless?
On the third day, the Careers finally venture beyond the safety of the Cornucopia, hunting for Dean and the boy from Seven. Having such little prey to track, however, the group quickly becomes bored. This idleness gives way to tense interactions, which eventually explode into a disagreement over food rationing. Blades are drawn, overpowering any attempt at reasoning, as the Careers now turn on each other. When the burst of violence halts, half of the six lie dead: the boy from 1, and the girls from 2 and 4. The outcome is not surprising - those three were the dead wood of the pack - but the trigger-happy drawing causes many Victors to groan.
"Too fast... they're moving too fast..." grumbles Norman, a Victor from District 10. "Someone get Plutarch on the phone and tell him to slow it down!"
"It's not Plutarch's fault. There hasn't been a Gamemaker trap yet; it's been all on the tributes!" I point out. Nevertheless, I feel worried. The curdling of the field is almost too fast for a standard Games. It only makes me wonder how much time Dean has left.
The rest of that day passes without incident. On the day following, the Gamemakers send up plumes of fire from the peat-like earth, nearly barbecuing the boy from District 4. Some Victor must finally get a hold of Plutarch and give the Head Gamemaker what for, as it isn't long before the fire blasts stop.
The fifth night of the Games, it is bitterly cold. Watching the cameras, I can see Dean shivering dangerously, curling himself into the fetal position to try and preserve his body heat. His log hide-out won't be enough to shield him from the chill and other elements. He needs a lighter to start a fire, and perhaps even a sweater to trap what little warmth he has left.
Determined to help my apprentice, I flag down an Avox and hand her a note I have scribbled down. "Make the rounds with the sponsors and see if... there might be any interest."
She nods wordlessly, and leaves the Bar. I hate performing sexual favors to curry gifts, but the stakes are too high for me to employ any other angle. I only hope whoever gets to fuck me for free is at least not an ass about it, like that orange dude from last year. After a few moments, the Avox returns, with a man in Gamemakers' robes by her side.
"Miss Everdeen," the Gamemaker smiles. "Your offer has been submitted, but I feel it won't be necessary. A pool of money just came in from District 12. It will pay for the items you requested."
I blink in surprise. It is not unheard of for raised funds to come in from a district. In fact, it's quite common. Districts can pool their resources to buy critical supplies for a tribute. It usually happens late in the Games when the prices are high. No, what is uncommon about it all is that District 12 has managed to do so. We're one of the poorest districts in Panem, if not the poorest. And most of our tributes do not get far enough in the arena to merit a critical intercession like this. I wonder how my neighbors came up with such money, and more importantly, who. Who could have raised so much that quickly? Regardless, I accept the gifts and send them off to Dean immediately, hoping I am not too late...
