A/N: I've finally updated :) This chapter is actually longer than most of the others, so that should help ease the pain of such a long wait ;D lol. But, I did write this in very small parts over almost the whole month, so please please please let me know if you feel that it's unconnected or doesn't flow at all. I reallyy hope this is good! Read and REVIEW! I need reviews, cause if not, I would have given up on this story long long longgg ago. So now that I'm done rambling, enjoy [:
It was almost nightfall in the arena, on the third day. Gale glanced agitatedly over his shoulder, his nerves as taut as the string on his bow. There had been no deaths today, probably no bloodshed. His brief encounter with the boy at the creek hardly counted as violent.
The Capitol audience would be bored. These games were dull, uneventful. Traps would be laid, and he would be ready for them.
Gale had been walking the entire day. He'd scaled the cliff that led to the Cornucopia, and, as he'd expected, the vicious Career pack. They'd gathered as much food as the giant horn held, but it wasn't going to last long. Instead of traditional food and weapons, the horn had been chalk full of climbing materials; various picks and ropes, even some ladders. Most of these lay unguarded in broad daylight, as the Careers mistakenly thought they would have no need for them, that the Gamemakers would simply bring the other tributes to them. Foolish on their part.
Gale had managed to slink through the wide space, stealing a few ropes and picks, without being seen. He wasn't ready to take on the whole pack. He would have to either find an ally, or pick them off one by one. The latter was his preferred choice, but he would probably end up with the former, at least for a while.
He could almost feel the tension in the air, could have cut it with the string on his bow. He knew he should rest for the night, maybe set a few traps, but his instincts were telling him to keep walking. And every good hunter knows: you always trust your instincts.
Logic told him that, more like than not, whatever disaster was planned for the entertainment of the Capitol, it would be away from the Cornucopia; sending scattered tributes back towards it. Logic told him that he should turn around, walk back to the Careers and their sparse arrangement of food, but plentiful weapons.
But instinct told him that the Gamemakers were playing a trick on them this year. A trick on the Careers, finally giving the other tributes a leg up on them. Instinct told him that, the farther he was from the Cornucopia, the better.
He hoped his instincts were right.
The tension was palpable all throughout the arena, and Mira was feeling it as well. She was bundled inside her sleeping bag, nestled in a giant oak tree, waiting for total darkness and sleep. But she somehow knew that sleep would not come easily tonight, and maybe that was just as well. Life had been easy the past two days, which was a very bad thing. She remembered previous Games where there had been little to no bloodshed for a day, and then almost half of the tributes died in some "natural disaster". She didn't want to be one of those statistics. It might be an easier way out than the others, but even she wasn't terrified enough to want to die with no honor at all.
The sky darkened finally, and for once, no faces were displayed in the sky above. Despite her imminent fear, she was happy that a few people had survived, including her.
Unable to stand the apprehension, she swung to the ground, taking her bag with her. When she landed though, she hesitated, unsure what she'd planned to do. Just as she was deciding to walk forward, a bird called a warning, and she froze.
Someone was walking toward her.
It wasn't the girl from One, she was sure of that. This tread was different. Heavier, yet quieter. More ominous, somehow. She froze, trying desperately to blend against the tree behind her, but not daring to climb back up, lest she make a noise and give herself away. She clutched her knife, somehow finding herself holding it. It was her only chance against whoever was approaching, and a slim one at that.
She stopped breathing as the footsteps came closer.
Katniss's grey eyes fluttered open as Peeta lay a hand on her shoulder. She sat up groggily, a few moments of ignorant bliss befuddling her mind. "Good morning sleepy head," Peeta said kindly. "Actually, it's nighttime here."
The naivete fled, but panic didn't crowd into her mind in it's place, leaving her with simple discontent. "You let me sleep the whole day?" she asked, a little miffed, but touched. "Peeta, you need sleep too."
"I'm alright. They have these drinks here that give you so much energy you're bouncing off the walls."
"Alright, well, shouldn't you sleep now? I can watch the controls for a while," she offered, noting the dark circles under his eyes.
"Actually, sweetheart, you both need to be awake for your guest," Haymitch's voice floated from the adjoining room, preceding him.
"Haymitch? What are you doing here?" Katniss asked, bewildered.
"Leaving. You kids can handle this, right?"
"Well, yeah, but—" she started, still confused.
Haymitch interrupted her with a wave of his hand, and his voice grew urgent. "Listen, we just had the lull day that always comes after the initial casualties. Peeta, how many sponsors have called in?"
"A lot. We have a few thousand dollars here for each of them. One person's actually coming in today..."
"Right. Because the audience will be bored. But the high bidders know better. They know some real action is coming up. They know the Gamemakers are sending some freaky thing towards the tributes right now. So of course, the highest bidder gets to watch from back here." Silence settled over the room for a few seconds as Katniss and Peeta processed the news. Gale or Mira could be dead within hours. "This is crucial. Do not give away any emotion while that man is in here. If he even suspects either of you," he looked directly at Katniss, "to be emotionally involved with either of them, he's going to sell that information to the media in a blink.
"Crucial." he said again for emphasis.
Cold fear clutched in Katniss's stomach. If this was going to be as dangerous to Gale as Haymitch claimed it to be, she was going to be a wreck. She would have to channel all of her confusion and desperation into manning the cameras, leaving conversation to Peeta.
"Alright," she said simply. "I can do that."
"Good," Haymitch said tersely, and began walking out the door. "And good luck," he said in a more gentle tone, not sounding at all Haymitch-like, but not exorbitant either.
"So how long until he gets here?" Katniss asked in a hushed voice, as if they were already being observed by an outsider.
"He was probably waiting outside for Haymitch to leave, actually." Just after the words left Peeta's mouth, an impatient knock came from the steel door, and they exchanged a frightened glance. Everything in the arena hadn't prepared them for the adversary they were about to face.
"I should get that," Peeta whispered, unmoving.
Katniss snickered, responding with, "Yeah, maybe."
Peeta reluctantly stood just as the knock came again, louder this time. "He's an impatient man," he said, losing a fight with a smile as he opened the door.
Clouds gathered on the horizon as Gale walked further and further away from the part of the arena he was familiar with. The overcast was unnatural, too dark, too uniform, and rolling in much too fast, for the air was stagnate, with not even a breeze. He began to doubt his instincts; maybe the Gamemakers' wrath wouldn't be focused on one part of the arena, on group of tributes. Maybe it would spread across the entire battlefield, excluding no one from its vengeance.
He began to slow his race-walk pace, listening carefully now. There was definitely thunder rumbling in the distance, and he could feel the electricity in the air, giving it a charged, dangerous feel. The storm coming would probably include lightning, and fires. He hated fires.
He began to look for a break in the trees, knowing the fire, if there was one, would be less likely to spread on the hard, chalky cliff surface. Still, when he saw a clearing, he didn't approach it right away. The trees offered irreplaceable cover, which the precipice didn't. He faced a dilemma. Struck by lightning, or lit on fire?
Then he spotted what looked like a hole in the cliff face. On further examination, he realized it was a cave.
A stone cave.
The cave would offer him protection from lightning and fire. But what could be inside it? Deciding that braving the unknown was more appealing than facing extreme heat from fire, he began cautiously into the dark opening of the hole in the cliff face.
Meanwhile, Peeta held his breath as a short man with a shiny, green-tinted, bald head in a bright purple suit walked in to their control room. He instinctively bristled toward this ugly, pudgy man, but constantly reminded himself that this man had payed a very substantial amount of money that went almost entirely toward keeping Gale and Mira alive.
He might as well have been paying for Katniss's sanity, and in effect, his own.
With a warning in his eye, Peeta introduced the man to a tense Katniss. "Katniss, love, this is Mr. Brent Odysseus. Mr. Odysseus, this is Katniss Everdeen." He'd added the term of affection at the very last moment, remembering to put on their love-birds act, which Haymitch had uncharacteristically forgotten to warn them about.
A slight smile on her face, which only Peeta could detect the coldness in, Katniss rose gracefully and shook the affluent, grotesque man's outstretched hand. "Pleased to meet you Mr. Odysseus. I hope you do enjoy your visit with us today."
Odysseus smiled, revealing pearly teeth, which looked as though they had been fashioned from actual pearls. "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Ms. Everdeen," he said in a sniveling, squeaky voice as he kissed her hand with chalky lips.
While the repulsive little man's head was still bowed toward her hand, Katniss met Peeta's eye and stuck her tongue out, making an 'ew!' expression. He barely managed to hold in a laugh.
"Your seat will be right here, sir," Peeta gestured to a seat far to the right of the main screen, far away from most of the controls. "We're going to have to ask you to empty your pockets for security reasons, and please do not touch any of the controls. This is quite crucial to our tributes survival."
"Now listen Mr. Mellark – er, may I call you Peeta? Yes? - well, anyway, I know you say that to all the sponsors, but I think we can work out a little arrangement." Odysseus rubbed his fingers together with a glint in his eye, obviously suggesting a bribe.
"I'm sorry sir, but if you continue attempting to persuade me to defy the orders of the President of Panem, I'll have no choice but to call in security," Peeta said with mock innocence on his face and a warning obvious in his tone. "But that won't be necessary, will it?" He really hoped it would be. This repugnant man gave him the creeps.
Disgruntled, Odysseus quickly said, "No, no of course not."
"I knew you were a reasonable man Mr. Odysseus. Feel free to take your seat now, thank you," Peeta said firmly. He noticed Katniss chuckling at the screen, and allowed himself a smile. He took a seat very close to her on the couch they'd pulled toward the screens, taking her hand in his.
"What's happened?" he asked quietly, noting Odysseus straining to hear his quiet tone.
"Gale's still walking away from the Cornucopia, and Mira's just jumped down. Oh no. Peeta, look at this screen!"
A figure was stalking toward Mira, and she seemed oblivious to it. She stood perfectly still, almost invisible against the tree. Katniss could see her hand clenched around a knife, and the fear in her eyes was obvious. Mira knew she was in danger.
"Expand it," she whispered to Peeta, who obediently pushed a series of buttons, resulting in the figure stalking Mira and Mira herself spread across about half of the screens.
"Who is that?" Odysseus said loudly, causing both of them to jump.
"I am sorry sir, but this is official Mentor business, and if you continue to interrupt us, you'll have to be escorted out," Peeta said. He didn't have to look at their ugly guest to know he was glaring and blushing, turning his cheeks and face a brilliant scarlet which had an extremely disagreeable effect when combined with his olive green head.
Peeta tore his eyes away from the screen for a moment, landing them on another, one that happened to contain Gale walking toward what could only be a cave.
Gale walked cautiously forward, the dark entrance seeming foreboding. He picked up a few stones and threw them into the cave, listening for the scuttling of any feet. He didn't hear any, but strung his bow just as a precaution.
He wished he had some form of light as he advanced into the dark hole, which seemed to form a series of tunnels up ahead, but the dim glow from the overcast didn't provide enough light to see. He decided to stay just inside the mouth of the cave, in case he needed to make a break for the forest again.
Mira, in the meantime, was so still against the tree, she could hardly hear herself breathe. The dark figure in the woods was only about ten feet away now, walking more slowly. His footsteps were occasionally drowned by a tremendous rumble of thunder from above. She took those deafening opportunities to take deep breaths, in case she needed to hold them.
She could barely make out some features on the figure, but for the life of her could not remember who they belonged to. He didn't seem to match with the Career's well groomed, well fed, over-all look, but he was definitely big. Perhaps the reluctant twenty-year-old? She hoped it was him. He might let her escape, or at least kill her mercifully.
She was just planning her escape through the trees behind her when the skies opened.
"Peeta, what's inside that cave?" Katniss whispered urgently, finally having noticed Gale's screen.
"I don't see anything bad. I hope he stays in there; it seems like the safest place for now." Just as Peeta finished his sentence, the skies erupted, with raining shooting down as if from guns, and thunder like a roaring lion. Lightning lit up the sky, too bright and wide to be natural.
"Where's Mira? She needs to get away from the trees. They're going to catch fire," Peeta said, his voice remarkably controlled. His eyes landed on her screen, and he was amazed to see her standing still as a statue under the pelting water droplets, though the other person—who they'd realized was the twenty-year-old—was still standing very near to her. He looked less reluctant now though. During the next ear-splitting rumble of thunder, he was relieved to see her turn and run straight through the trees, clutching her knife in front of her.
Mira sprinted, legs pumping faster than they ever had before. She ran and ran, not daring to look behind her. Rain was pouring down, running from the trees onto her head and arms and face, blinding her. She desperately clutched her pack to her, eternally grateful that she hadn't dropped it. Through the stream of water on her face, she saw a break in the trees, and ran toward it with all her might.
When she was twenty feet away from it, a magnificent beam of lightning struck a tree directly in front of her, illuminating the world for a split second before the evanescent ray disappeared. The light however, didn't leave, because the enormous tree was now ablaze.
Mira stood staring at it like an idiot, watching the bright orange flames dance up and down the rough trunk of the tree. All around her, other trees began to dance with fire as well, and all the animals in the ground began stampeding away from her, in the opposite direction she'd been going. It wasn't until a sapling not two feet from her began to burn that she finally snapped back to reality, letting loose a blood-curdling scream.
She turned to follow the critters, knowing they knew how to get away, but they were gone already. Fire loomed up around her like a giant barricade. It was almost a complete circle. There was only one open space, which would no doubt be occupied by red tongues of flame if she continued to hesitate.
Running like a madman, she barely made it through the crack in the wall of fire before more luminescent lightning struck, setting the forest alight with it's fiery revenge. She dashed wildly through any open space, not looking more than three feet ahead of her at any time. She could feel the smoke in the air, forcing its way into her lungs.
The heat began to close in on her.
Gale had heard the scream from his cave. He'd seen the lightning strike, and now his forest was burning with bright, deadly flames. He'd seen a number of tributes come close to escaping the fatal woods, only to have a bolt of lightning stop them. Leaving the woods when he did had probably saved his life.
From fire, at least.
He retreated deeper into his haven. Taking a seat on the cold, hard ground, he pulled open his pack, taking out the remaining rabbit meat from the previous day. He lay down, trying to replenish his store of energy for the events that would certainly follow him as soon as the storm passed.
The flashes of light and deafening thunder seemed far away, and before he could stop them, his eyes drifted shut and his mind stopped, delving him into a deep sleep.
Mira coughed and coughed, black bile rising in her throat. Smoke was everywhere, casting an eery grey haze on everything, filling her eyes, her lungs, everything. She staggered through the trees, desperately trying to stay ahead of the heat of the fire, and failing. Her throat felt like sandpaper, and she couldn't clear her head. Her feet were uncoordinated bricks, stumbling through the uneven forest.
She kept running and falling, running and falling, for what felt like miles. She hardly noticed when her left arm was seared in the blaze, or when her golden locks were burned off as well. She wasn't thinking. All she cared about was escaping the blaze. Just a few more steps, she told herself repeatedly. Just a few more steps, and this will all be over.
Her body finally gave up, collapsing after just a few more steps. She could feel the fire advancing on her, and wretchedly tried to crawl forward, not caring that her knees would soon become a bloody mess from dragging on the rough ground. She needed to escape the hell behind her.
Katniss's eyes were glued to the screen as Mira crawled forward, barely seeming to be alive. The small red camera icon at the bottom of the screen told her that all of Panem was watching with her, waiting to see how much longer Mira would last. Some were probably betting on her death at this moment.
For once Odysseus was just as focused as she and Peeta, and wasn't heard grumbling to himself about their strictness.
"Peeta, isn't there somewhere she can go?" Katniss whispered carefully, already reaching for the controls to pan around the area.
"I don't think there's anything. Hopefully sponsors will call in a lot soon, so we can send her some medicine if she survives this." Peeta's soft voice grew noticeably louder as he mentioned the sponsors, obviously hinting at their guest, who didn't appear to notice.
"There's no water or boulder or anything?" Katniss said desperately.
"I don't know. Look around, I guess," Peeta replied, but she heard the sad doubt in his voice. Still, she swung the camera around, looking for some sort of shelter around Mira, who had now given up and was lying in the dirt, arms draped over her head.
Mira tried to breathe through her nose, but the terrible choking smoke stopped her. She tried to throw up, but nothing came out, and she dry heaved painfully. She barely registered that she hadn't burned yet, even though she'd stopped moving and the fire should have been upon her by now.
She hadn't burned yet. She tried to sit up, but fell against the hard dirt instead. But the new found revelation gave her strength, and she pushed herself up. "Fire..." she mumbled, looking behind her, where the trees now resembled chalky black sticks, or very tall black tombstones.
She tried to remember if she'd heard any cannons during the conflagration, but her mind had been one tracked, focusing solely on her escape.
Struggling to breathe, she pulled her pack toward her, amazed to find herself still clutching it. Before opening it though, she realized she needed to find real, clean air, or her lungs would surely give out. She painfully crawled forward, hands and knees burning as the fire had, but she didn't dare stop. On and on she crawled, slowly making her way away from the scene of destruction.