Beneath the Crystal Sky

by laptop246

Fawn Dogwood is 16. She lives in District 7. She is part of a prosperous scouting troop. She has two little sisters. She is learning a trade. She is being courted. She was never meant to be Reaped. "Scout. Sister. Performer. Tribute. What am I, now? Staring into my own brown eyes, I find that I can't tell anymore." High quality. Works very closely with the original series.

17. III BLOOD

PART III. GAMES.
CHAPTER 17. BLOOD.

Into Part III! YAY FOR THE GAMES! yah...right.

I stick with the description of the Bloodbath to the book pretty well, with the absence of a voice counting down, or a clock showing the countdown. My intent was actually to go with the movie on this one, but as I began to write, the book's version just seemed to fit better.

Sorry this took forever. I had to rewrite it about four or five times, depending on the part, because I wanted the atmosphere to be just so. I wanted Fawn to continue battling her inner Career, as well as her natural good-heartedness. After all, only one can win in the end. In addition, I wanted to show terror of a tribute that isn't so strong as Katniss and isn't unwilling to admit it.

~BTCS~

The light stuns me, and I blink several times in effort to regain my sight. I take a deep breath of surprise as the arena comes into sight. Cold air rushes into me, filling me with that alert sense coldness does to me – the sense that I have come to associate with being alive.

For a moment, I think I am back home, in District 7. Snow piles in clumps under tall pine trees, and the sky is a blistering blue. I nearly run for the trees before I spot the Cornucopia, brilliant gold and shining. I stop myself. This is the Hunger Games, and if I run before the gong, my blood will spill too early for the Capitol (as well as my own) taste.

Tributes are in a circle around the Cornucopia. The trees are about fifty meters away from each tribute, arranged to make a clearing that is perfectly circular, which can only be done by Capitol design. Now that I look around, at the thickness and closeness of the pines, and the piling of the snow, I realize that the arena looks little like the true wilderness.

We are also about fifty meters away from the Cornucopia – far enough away that the supplies are indistinct, as well as many tributes. I squint at the pile inside the Cornucopia. It doesn't seem nearly as large as it should.

It occurs to me that everything is silent in suspense – calm, even. Tributes, with blurry faces, are poised to run – most towards the trees. Sixty seconds must be near expiring. I angle myself towards the Cornucopia, leaning forward and ready to run.

The gong sounds, the sound reverberating in my bones. As my legs move forward, my stomach dropping with fear and exhilaration, I realize something. Panem is watching. Blight is somewhere with sponsors, watching. Garnish is likely in a club, squealing in excitement as she watches. My family and friends are watching in the silent square of Redwood. President Snow is watching in his famous rose garden. Countless others that I will never know are holding their breaths, waiting for blood to spill.

By the time I have reached the Cornucopia, my fears are confirmed. Little to no supplies lie in the golden horn. As I watch, Tide pushes Shyne aside to take the sword she was reaching for. Panic rushes into me as I look for knives. There must be knives somewhere! My hands fly as I search through the small pile of supplies in desperation. My hands touch the freezing metal of the Cornucopia, and I feel my insides turn to ice as well. There are no knives.

I force myself to push aside the ice-feeling. There is no time now. I must claim what I will, or it will be taken from me. This is the nature of the Career alliance. Beside me, I can hear the sounds of scuffling as we fight over weapons. An axe lies in the snow, and I take it into my hands instead.

Suddenly, things become too quiet. I spin around, ponytail whipping against my neck. The clearing is nearly still. I spot Angela Herder's blonde hair quickly, and see that she is picking up a water bottle, one of the few things left outside of the actual Cornucopia. I can practically hear the snap as eyes lock on Angela.

Angela's eyes dialate and she abandons the water bottle, sprinting for the trees. We hesitate a moment, watching her run, before Tide whispers, "Mine." No one argues, and Tide takes off after. He gains quickly, but they are both shrouded in trees before he reaches her.

Mason curses from beside me, and I see that Syren has a black eye, and holds a small dagger triumphantly. Gneiss holds another dagger, and Luster a spear. Mason and Shyne are without weapons. October appears from the other side of the Cornucopia, with a sword. Shyne and Mason sour at the sight of it. "I just saw Cabel Atom and Barley Harvester disappear. If we hurry, we can catch them."

We hesitate, continuing to stare after Tide. We all know that we need him – or rather, the sword he holds, to continue. We will have to wait for him to return. I stand, holding my axe tightly. Here in the arena, it is as essential as food or water. I stare at the trees where Tide disappeared for a moment, before moving closer to October. "Where did you see Cabel and Barley go?"

October glances at me, and then quickly away, and I can practically feel his guilty conscience. Is he upset that he is turning them in? "That way," he grunts, gesturing to the other side of the Cornucopia with his sword. I step towards the spot, squinting in the direction, but it is difficult to make out anything. The snow blinds in the bright sunlight.

When I turn, Tide has reappeared, and the traditional Careers are exchanging glances, clearly trying to decide whether or not to trust October. But, with the note of urgency in the air, they cannot resist the temptation. Besides, the disappearance of tributes with only one death is obviously due to the squabble over weapons between the Careers. Gamemakers will not be pleased with this new development. The plan to separate forgotten, we dart into the trees.

It isn't difficult to figure out what direction Cabel and Barley went. Their footprints are obvious in the snow. I am soon in the front of the group, as the others are struggling to walk in the thick snow, a feat that I have long since perfected. My heart is pounding in my ears, my face a complete mask. There is no avoiding the fact now: I am in the Hunger Games, and I will soon kill.

Cabel's bright hair is evident to us immediately. He should have drawn up his hood to camouflage more efficiently, but in his haste, he must have forgotten. We pick up speed, drawing closer to the two tributes. Barley's dark skin appears against the white, better covered by his jacket. I glance around at the faces of the Careers, and all of them show bloodlust. Even October's face holds a savage sort of excitement. Quickly, I glance back at the fleeing tributes. It's an easier sight.

When we are only fifteen meters away from Barley and Cabel when Cabel looks back. "Run!" he shrieks to his ally, even though they are already moving as fast as they can. They begin to stumble more quickly and clumsily in attempt to escape us. Pity runs through me. Surely they know they cannot escape us.

We catch them quickly. Luster, Mason, and Syren take a long route around them, so that they appear suddenly form the trees to form a barrier. Cabel and Barley stumble. Barley falls, landing hard on his back. He blinks several times, obviously stunned. Shyne quickly jumps on top of him and pins him to the ground, growling at him.

Cabel takes a mad dash past me. Without thinking, I lunge for him, landing atop of him in the snow. His face shows surprise and hurt, and I involuntarily flinch. That night on the rooftop, he caught my crying over River. What was it that he had said to me? "You… you're scared too." His eyes blink at me, filled with tears, and I force myself to look away. My axe, laying just a few inches to my right, looks awfully dangerous right now.

"Tide," Shyne says, an eerie calm in her voice. "Give me the sword." I glance up at them quickly. Tide is holding the sword tightly, glaring at Shyne. He looks very dangerous – much more dangerous than he ever did before. They all do.

Tide does not respond. "Just let me have it long enough to finish this." She shakes her free hand angrily at Barley, who begins to kick and struggle against her grasp. Shyne turns back to him, putting her other hand on his shoulder. "Stay. Still." He goes immobile suddenly, and a cracking sounds fills the air. Barley whimpers pitifully.

"Barley!" Cabel cries, reaching for him and nearly unsettling me from my place on top of him. "Stop it! Stop it!" I tell him, cursing as he continues to struggle.

"Give me a dagger or something!" Shyne calls impatiently. Our allies gather around Shyne and Barley, exchanging dark looks. No one moves to hand her a weapon. They are too afraid that she will turn on them.

My attention flies back to Cabel as the boy continues to struggle. "Barley! Barley!" he screams. After a moment, his screams change to, "Mother! Father! Gilbert! Raiden! Help me!" He thrashes under me wildly in a fit, filled with exhilaration. I have to force myself to keep him pinned to the ground. I can't muster up any anger or bloodlust myself – all I feel is pity. Cabel and Barley's time is running thin.

My attention slips, and Cabel manages to free his hand. Before I can process this, his small fist collides powerfully with my neck. I sprawl backwards, stunned and surprised. How did he manage to punch me that hard? I touch the side of my neck and wince – it will surely bruise.

My mind takes a moment to clear, and I realize that Cabel has escaped. I jump to my feet, more startled than anything. The Careers are still huddled around Barley. "Hey!" I yell, into the trees. "Where'd you go?" I don't expect Cabel to hear or come back, but it gets the attention of the Careers.

"You let him get away?" October sounds very angry, and I force my face into a mask so my surprise won't show. He acts the part of Career well.

"I… he hit me," I explain weakly. Gneiss rolls her eyes at me, but Syren looks with sympathy at the blossoming bruise on my neck. "Who would've thought that squirt could hit that hard?" she marvels.

Luster shrugs. "Do you at least know what way he went?"

I did. I knew that he had run back, in the way we had come, but I consider for a long moment. If I tell the Careers, Cabel will likely die – maybe even at my own hand. "That way," I say, pointing to my left. My forehead crinkles as I feign surprise. "There's no footprints, though."

They all frown at me. "He couldn't have gone that way, then." Mason says. "Are you sure he didn't hit your head as well?"

"I… I'm not sure," I lie. "I didn't think he was strong enough to…" my hand goes to the bruise on my neck and I flinch again, mostly for effect.

Shyne makes an impatient noise. "Tributes are scattering," she reminds us. "Let's dispose of this one and then go find others." We make noises of agreement, and I retrieve my axe and hand it to Shyne. "Use this," I tell her, and, to my surprise, my voice stays level.

She accepts it, and snarls down at Barley, who is silent and blank-eyed in pain. Whatever she did to his back must have been pretty serious, because he hasn't moved since. "Goodbye, little Barley," she whispers, and lifts the axe.

A feeling of helplessness fills me. I turn my head, but that doesn't stop my from hearing Barley's strangled cry, and the heavy thud the axe makes. Shyne stands, dusting her hands, and gives me back the axe. I wipe the axe on the ground, unable to keep from recognizing the startling beauty of red blood on white snow. I glance at Barley's decapitated body and shudder.

A cannon sounds, followed by another. The sounds tell of Angela and Barley's deaths, and decree that the Bloodbath is over. Only two tributes died to start the Games. We glance at each other, feeling the failure in our hearts. We are supposed to provide the Capitol with a show, and we didn't. We will suffer the consequences later.

~~BTCS~~

We return to the Cornucopia dejectedly, to sort out the rest of the supplies and establish a watch for them. I keep a sharp eye out for Cabel's footprints in the snow, and the Careers do so as well, obviously having thought that he must have come this way. However, Cabel's footprints blend in well with the ones from earlier, and disappear in a mass of confusion when we reach again the circular clearing that the Cornucopia is located in.

When we are nearly halfway to the Cornucopia, Tide raises his hand to signal a halt. We do so immediately, looking around quickly and silent as statues. Slowly heads turn towards the Cornucopia, and I hear it as well. A shuffling noise is coming from inside the horn. Someone – or something – is looking through our supplies.

We move forward as one, as a pack. We are silent as the wolves and coyotes that I am so accustomed to fighting, back in District 7. It occurs to me that the Careers are like my troop, only hunting something much different and with a lot more to lose.

The shuffling stops, and so do we. None of us bear long distance weapons, except for my axe. The silence between us is deep, our fear of Capitol retaliation for not providing a good show uniting us. I heft my weapon, and we all glance at the horn timidly, thinking as one.

A face peeks out. I don't identify it. Instead, I focus on its movements as it slowly sneaks away from the horn. I wait, hesitating to memorize its stride before moving my arm backwards, preparing to let the axe fly. As my arm swings forward, my heart sticks in my throat, and I picture Cabel's face as he struggled, Angela's frightened glance at us, and Barley's deafeated features. The axe swings through the air, and misses the figure by a fraction.

The figure starts, and begins to run without looking back. We run too, me feigning to keep the expressions of terror off my face. The figure doesn't appear to be very fast, and we catch up in seconds. I recognize the tribute. "It's Chip Drive," I gasp, winded from all the running. "From District 3."

Luster tackles Chip, punching him several times in the chest until Chip stops fighting and simply lies rigid. I
stumble to a halt directly beside them, almost tripping over the pair. Gneiss appears in front of me suddenly, handing Luster his spear, which he must have dropped in the scuffle.

While Chip is temporarily immobile, Luster quickly stabs the spear through his stomach. I have to force myself not to turn and gag. This is my world now – I have to get used to it at some point.

Chip makes a gargling sound that makes me feel somewhat faint, and Luster stands. "This one is mine," he says, and no one disputes this, either. I am beginning to understand the silent communications of the Career pack.

Luster puts his foot on Chip's chest, close to where my axe is embedded. Chip gasps in pain, and Luster pushes down harder, cruely. "Can you talk?" Luster demands, face contorted into a rough mask. Chip gasps again, a small scream tearing from his throat. "I said, can you talk?"

"Yes," Chip manages, barely audible.

"Good." Luster's foot relaxes, but only slightly. "Was anyone else here? Did anyone else search through the supplies?"

Chip hesitates, breathing heavily. "No," he gasps.

"He's lying." October says, quickly. All eyes turn to him. One of my eyebrows raises silently. "He isn't clever enough to think of stealing himself – he'd have to see someone else do it."

Chip appears offended, as if October betrayed him, but is not in a place to argue. Luster pushes his foot down again. "Is that true? Did you lie?"

The tribute begins to cough up blood, all over his face, and before I can think, I am saying, "Stop that, Luster. If you want him to be able to talk, you'd better stop."

"Excuse me?" Luster's eyes glint.

"I –" I gulp slightly, aware what my thoughtless words have done. Straightening my back, I gather every bit of pride I have in my and state, "If you want to be able to interrogate him, you need him alive, and if you keep treating him like that, he won't be for long." I glance at Chip's wound as I speak, and I know I am right. Chip will be dead in moments without any of our help.

Luster stares at me a long minute, and then nods curtly. He turns back to Chip, and I feel the eyes of the other Careers shift, for the moment. A thrill of fear jolts through me. I need to get out of this alliance as soon as possible.

"Who was at the Cornucopia before you?" Luster is demanding again. Chip stares at him blankly, and I wonder if he even is mentally present enough to remember his name. "You will tell me, or …" Luster trails off, flinching at his choice of words. There is nothing to threaten Chip with now.

Chip makes a gurgling sound that makes me believe he is chocking on his own blood, but then I notice his smile. "I'm not going to tell you." He is laughing, so hard no he begins to cough. "I –" He coughs more heartily now, until, suddenly, his eyes go blank and his body still. A cannon sounds. My heart hardens, and my body fills with a chill I do not like – a panic that threatens to consume me. I have, for the first time, seen the eyes of a boy who died. I saw the life drain from them, and his body go slack.

It will not be the last time.

"Aw, Luster, you killed him too quick," Mason commented, appearing dissatisfied by Chip's death. "Fawn was right after all." I straighten, stepping away from Chip's body. Let them think that – let them put their attention to blaming Luster. Anything to stop them from seeing the tears in my eyes.

I tear my glance away from Cabel's limp body, looking instead at the blank trees. I see a flash of red against the white trees, like blood on snow. I blink, and stare in the direction of the flash. It is gone. I must have just imagined it.

I shake my head. Things are becoming clear to me now. I was a fool to think that I could play Career. I may have talent with weapons, but it isn't a talent I wished for. It isn't something I enjoy about myself – I hate it. Shyne wasn't even fazed after she killed Barley, but I am being moved to tears by my killing Chip. I can look the part of Career, but I can't play it.

I force the tears away from my eyes and take a deep breath, thinking of home. River… River wouldn't want to see me cry. River would tell me that it's just the Games – it's kill or be killed, and nothing more. I am simply surviving to come back to him.

"That was good advice," October claps me on the shoulder, and I flinch involuntarily. Trying to play it off, I mutter, "You scared me." And shrug off his hand.

"-even if they didn't want to hear it." October finishes, eyes searching mine. He's trying to tell me something, I can tell. What's wrong? He turns away before I can understand.

As we walk back to the Cornucopia, taking the loaf of bread Chip had dropped in his haste back, I sense that I am being watched. I turn my head ever so slightly, to see Gneiss turn her face to the Cornucopia. Of course, I am a threat now. Only two tributes have kills – Shyne and I. And I'm not even a traditional Career trained in their ways.

Have I always been a threat?

I pick up my axe from the snow, where it lies unstained by blood. I could have killed Chip when he was fleeing – I could have done it as easily as I can walk. If I was a true Career, I would have. I take a deep breath. What is my mother thinking now? Is she sorrowed or proud to have raised a potential killer?

I shake myself – I cannot think like this now. My mind is in the clouds, when my surroundings may change any moment. It wouldn't surprise me if a tribute like Tide decided to take me out now, to eliminate a threat, gain a kill, and satisfy the Capitol.

My hand tightens on my axe. No letting my mind drift again. I have killed once now, and it's good that it has been done. Now I can proceed without worry. I push away Chip's face and stare at the small pile of supplies instead.

"There's nothing." I say aloud.

Syren shakes her head. "No, there's more than nothing. There's just … very little."

"Little in the Cornucopia, little in the Bloodbath," Luster mutters, quiet enough so that only I can hear. "It makes for an interesting Game."

"The cost of sponsor gifts will be lower than usual," Mason says. "because there's so little in the Cornucopia." I almost ask how he knows before I remember – they are trained for this. They'll know every bit of statistical information they can – anything that will give them an edge. All the same, the information is comforting. Maybe Blight is working out getting me some knives now.

There are two small backpacks, and all of the supplies fit in it. There are a handful of hand warmers, some dried berries and salted meat strips, two water bottles, and a large tent designed for warmth. In the troop, at least we all had sleeping bags, and a handful of knives to ourselves. Here, we have to fight for weapons, and we all know with one glance at the tent that it won't fit all of us.

Mason and Shyne, who are without weapons, receive the backpacks filled with the supplies. We put the tent up in silence, all wondering what will happen next. The tent proves to be capable of holding only five people – three short of enough.

The sun is at its highest point in its arch by the time we finish. The exhilaration of the "Bloodbath" has worn out, and our blood has cooled. Hands are shoved in pockets, and hoods drawn. Syren and Tide seem to be having the hardest time. District 4 is a tropical paradise, of course. This was seem a wasteland to them.

"Okay," Tide steps forward, assuming the role of leader, which makes every face sour. "First thing's first. We need to figure out who is stealing so that we can stop them. We don't have enough for ourselves, let alone to tolerate stealing." Muttered agreements follow, and I form my face into a blank mask again, to keep my thoughts private.

"It could have been Maze and Raven from 7 and 11," suggests Shyne. Eyes turn to October and I. My face remains impassive. Maze and Raven wouldn't have been stupid enough to steal now, when they will be here at nightfall. My mind runs through the tributes, flicking from face to face. Most are too timid for such a stunt. Then I remember the flash of red – like blood … or like hair. And suddenly, I realize that there is one tribute that is sneaky enough to steal even from the Careers and get away clean.

Mason looks thoughtful. "Or it could be Jet from 6."

"Her district partner, Ryder, has an alliance with Thread from 8." I lie, keeping my face as clear as ever. The Careers' faces do not change. Of course, they would have known this. Thread and Ryder made it clear last night at the Interviews. Last night? It seems years ago, and centuries before that that I was in District 7.

We fall silent, considering the tributes. Finally, Luster says, "Well, we might as well do something as we think. We need a watch for tonight while everyone goes hunting." My stomach twists. I know what kind of hunting he means, and it isn't what I am accustomed to.

"Fawn, Mason, and I will take one group," Tide says quickly, as if to remind Luster that he is self-appointed leader. "Gneiss, Shyne, and you, Luster, will take the other. October and Syren will take the watch." Eyebrows raise throughout the group, and I wait for someone to protest, but it doesn't come.

"And in the meantime?" I ask. I was never a candidate for leader – it was never a position that I desired, and therefore, I may ask questions without fearing another dictating the answer.

"You'll know how to hunt here, won't you Fawn?" Syren asks. I flinch, thinking she means tributes. "No, not that kind of hunting," she says impatiently, rolling her eyes at me.

I smile uncomfortably. "Yes, I do. With knives, I do, anyway. We should make traps, since we don't have many long range weapons." No one disputes this, to my surprise, and we set off into the trees under silent agreement, looking for sticks to make traps from. I notice how we never let each other leave our sights, and how Mason stands next to the Cornucopia stiffly. We glance at him periodically, to make sure he isn't messing with the supplies. There is no trust in the arena. If the Career pack is the safest place to be at the beginning of the Games, why do I feel as though we are about to explode with each passing second?

~~~BTCS~~~

Well…..how's the arena? I think I finally captured the feel that I was going for. Let me know, please, in a review! Because reviews are from the heavens! I love reviews! Reviews make me update faster…..