Take to cover.
That's what Prometheus had told me. He'd been almost certain that there would be some kind of forest in the arena, as had everyone else. In years where the Games have been flatlands, there have not been enough places to hide and so they are over quickly. With forests and mountains Games last longer because the tributes are able to get away from each other a bit easier, drawing the Games out and making for a better show.
I'm ready to run to the forest just as I was told, too. Right about the tails of Hebe who is much quicker than I would have thought, little body flying into the tree line before anyone can give her thought. I'm glad of that, because everyone else is ready for slaughter.
I only have time to give Hebe a fleeting glance though, because before I even know better, Ares is coming at me. There is maybe three yards between his platform and mine, and he's covering the distance fast for someone with such lumbering bulk.
"Shit."
My feet fly off the platform then, not for the trees because I can see two other Demigods lingering int that direction– they'd hold me there and let Ares break my neck. No, instead I run straight for the cornucopia, as I have not much other choice. Ares is a bit startled by the decision, probably having believed me to go for the forest after Hebe, but he keeps on my tail nonetheless.
I'm giving him a chance to get a weapon to make me an easier kill, I think frantically, give a sudden right veer that has me sliding in the meadow grass. It's humid here, the blades slick with dew. Instantly I've already got stains on my leggings. But the low dive is enough to daunt Ares, as is my speed, and after a few scattered lunges and misses he loses interest in this game of cat and mouse because it's obvious I'm faster than him and slyer, so he gives a giant growl of annoyance and goes towards the cornucopia full-out where the other Demigods are, already slaying the children trying to get supplies.
There's blood spraying the side of the golden horn, but I haven't heard a trumpet yet so no one is dead. I hope to the Gods Artemis and Apollo are okay.
Panting, I race forwards, get my eyes back on the trees but not before I hear the squeal. I look off to the side with just a glance and see her, Hestia on the ground slipping and crawling through the grass as the boy from Éxi tries to go at her with bare hands.
Where's Hades? I think with a sudden, protective anger as I turn course then. I will not leave Hestia there alone, even if this does give Ares all the better chance to grab something sharp to throw at my head, which I'm sure he'll do if he sees I'm still in the open.
Just as I am a few yards from Hestia and the boy from Éxi, I can hear her name being called. The low register of the voice is obviously Hades. They must have been separated by the cornucopia and that's the only reason he's not here to help her now, then. But I am, I think, and without hesitance I slam into the boy from Éxi. He's a small kind of scamp even though I heard he's one of the oldest of the tributes at nearly nineteen, like Hades himself. I might be short but I'm substantial and I throw him off-balance.
It makes him stagger, but then he's coming at me with intent to kill. Stupid, I think as I spin my body quickly out of his reach. He goes flying past me and I kick him, in the ass. It makes him stumble and fall face-first into the dirt with a grunt.
While he's distracted, I move to Hestia who's got herself up on her feet by now. I notice her palms are scraped from falling. "He just came at me," she whimpers when she notices me staring. "I– are you going to kill me Kore?"
"No," I say hastily, shoving her toward the tree line. A trumpet goes off in the background– the first death. "But that boy will if you don't go. Get out of here."
"I have to find Hades," Hestia says stubbornly. We can both still hear him shouting for her, voice getting nearer now.
But the boy from Éxi is getting back up again, looking furious. "You get into those fucking trees now, Hestia," I say, all of the matron in my person showing through. Her eyes go wide. "I'll get Hades to you– go."
Luckily, she does as told, bolting for the trees nearly a hundred yards away. I turn my attentions back to the boy from Éxi who spits grass from between his teeth and charges at me once more. Something like a screech escapes me as he tries to grab for my arms, and instead I evade his blow and rake my nails into his face. Flesh tears off against my fingertips and he wails, blood running down my palm just as I see Hades running my way, looking frantic and desperate.
He's got two packs on his shoulders, and hold of a sword– is that why he took so long? Why that stupid son of a bitch.
"She's in the trees!" I yell to him angrily, getting his wide-eyed attention. His gaze steadies on me a moment, on the boy from Éxi who's right back after me. I hear a scream in the background, and look frantically to the cornucopia where the Demigods are chasing strays, seeing the golden head of Ares as I narrowly evade the boy from Éxi, fear swelling in my chest.
It's like Hades doesn't even hesitate then. He runs straight towards me instead of after Hestia like I told him. Idiot what are you doing go find her! I let out a gasp as the boy from Éxi grabs tight to my arm in my distractions and tries to wrangle me into a chokehold, knowing that if he holds me for long enough Ares will come paying depts. I look back to Hades who is now so close, his eyes intent as he runs the sword through the boy from Éxi's shoulder.
The boy lets out something like a scream, dropping me as blood sprays the back of my neck when Hades pulls the sword out. I stumble away, fall into Hades' chest. He catches me easily, casts one glance to the cornucopia and I know he knows what I'm thinking. "Come on," he says, tone commanding. The hand not holding his sword takes one of mine and we bolt for the trees then, steering in the path Hestia did. She's made cover by now, and another trumpet is crying in the background.
Did Hades' blow kill that boy, then?
He doesn't blink an eye at the sound, just keeps running. We make it to the trees quickly, ducking past branches. It doesn't take long for us to catch up to little Hestia, easily following her footprints in the foliage. She's hiding behind a bush when we get there, pops her little head out to smile at us. Hades lets go of my hand and goes straight to her, pulling her into a hug.
"She saved me," Hestia whispers to him, and I see his posture stiffen.
I let my eyes take in the world around us, alert and antsy at the blood running down my neck as Hades straightens and turns back to me. "I suppose I should thank you," he says.
A trumpet blares in the background, followed by another and another.
"I suppose I should thank you too," I tell him, my limbs beginning to shake.
That's five.
He doesn't reply, simply shrugs one pack off his shoulder and throws it at me. I catch it with a loud umph and cradle it to my chest, blinking. For a moment I do nothing with it, then open the zipper and look inside. There's a canteen, some rope, a small hunting knife– thank the Gods– something that looks like a package of food, a bottle of aspirin and a vial of brown with an eyedropper. Iodine, I realize with relief, used to clean unsafe water.
"Thank you," I tell Hades, and he nods, taking hold of Hestia's hand.
"Your twins went north," he says, pointing with his free hand in the direction of the mountains that can be seen above the tree line. "The boy from your republic went south though. That girl from Októ west."
"Hebe," I say in answer to the latter. "I need to find her. Artemis and Apollo will be fine together, but she's–"
"Don't go back to that meadow," Hades says, his blatant concern for me surprising. "That brute from Dyo will be on you like a hound to the hunt."
"He already tried," I sigh, pulling the pack around my shoulders. "I'm gonna circle around then, I guess."
Hades nods. "We're going to the mountain," he says, glancing down at Hestia who looks back up at him with big, startled eyes.
"Can't Kore come with?" she asks.
"No," Hades and I say at the same time, matching each other's glance. It's then I notice the dark rims around his eyes, charcoal black like war-paint. Hestia's eyes look much the same, but softer somehow. More innocent. Both their outfits are stitches with black thread instead of gold, Hestia's with pictures of fire and Hades' with a helmet of some sorts.
"I have to find my friend," I say to Hestia softly, to relax the harshness of both mine and Hades' tones. "I'm sorry I yelled at you back in the field, by the way. I was just worried."
"'t's okay," she mumbles, swinging her and Hades' connected hands sheepishly. "You saved me."
"Of course," I tell her, then look back to Hades with a soft smirk. "Always will."
We part ways after that.
Hades is noiseless as he moves, Hestia the same as her footfalls are light thanks to her small size. I am thankfully silent too, years of sneaking up on Plutus to tackle and fight him in the mud lending experience. I keep the knife out of the pack though; sheathe it in the belt around my waist just in case. I'm sure Ares saw the direction Hades and I ran toward, and him and his buddies would probably just love the chance to go for what they think is a two-for-one special.
For hours, I walk in a loop around the forest, heading north-west and keeping as silent as possible. I'd wager it's a good six hours by the false sun in the false sky before I begin to get really thirsty. Though there's a canteen in the pack Hades gave me, it didn't come equipped with water. I know I need to find a source soon because dehydration can become my greatest enemy here. It'll finish me just as soon as Ares does, and it'll be a slow, awful way to go.
It takes me another hour of walking before I feel the air grow more humid, bugs swarming through it. I listen tentatively, the telltale sound of a brook running in the distance. With a relieved sigh I all but sprint to it, stopping only once I reach its edge to kneel on the shore.
Test everything, I hear Prometheus say in my head. First I sniff for any signs of rot, then grab a leaf from a nearby tree and stick it in the stream. I don't know what it's really going to do, but for all I know the moment something makes a ripple in the stream a bunch of flesh-eating fish come out and attack me. Luckily nothing of the sort happens so I stick a finger in, then my hand. The water is cold against my sweaty skin.
I lift a small palm full of it to my mouth and take a sip, swishing and testing. Eventually I'm satisfied enough that it won't kill me and start taking greedy sips, filling my canteen and drinking the whole thing until my belly feels sloshy. I refill it and then take some time to wash the blood of the boy from Éxi off my neck, shivering not from the cold of the water.
Hades didn't have any hesitation when he stabbed that boy, and I realize with a soft sigh had I had the means of killing the boy from Éxi, I wouldn't have hesitated either. But I wonder if it really was Hades' blow that killed him or just someone else finishing him off in the end. It doesn't really matter, I wager. Hades knew he was probably going to kill the boy when he struck, and I was glad he did.
I told Prometheus I'm not a killer, but that will be a lie soon enough, I just know it.
I stay at the stream another couple of minutes, cooling my heated skin, before I hear it. It starts as a soft hum, like the workers do in the fields all day to ease their boredom. Then it turns to a brilliant melody, voices on the wind pretty and sweet. I perk up at that, look downstream where the water starts to twist and turn past rocks. Taking one last drink, I stand and stretch, listening as the melody grows louder and more…beckoning.
I blink, once, twice– and start walking to the source of the sound. My head suddenly feels foggy, but the music is so very sweet that it doesn't matter. I sway to it, hips twisting sensually as I take each dance of a step. There's a heat in my lower belly, making my breasts suddenly ache as well as the place between my legs and I don't know why. I dance and writhe trying to quench it, but knowing only the source of the music can really do so for me.
I'm probably five yards from the song– which seems to be coming from deep in a part of the stream past a damn of rocks– when a twig snaps in the distance.
I snap out of the fog of my mind then with an adrenaline rush of fight-or-flight, shake my head vigorously and duck into the underbrush at the side of stream, blinking and slapping myself on the face a couple of times. What was that? It was like I wasn't even in control of my own feet. I had every intention of wading straight into the stream to find the source of that song, and Gods know how deep it is there. Whereas past the damn I could see the bottom, up here I can't.
Another twig snaps and I grow more alert, pulling the knife from my belt and moving into a protective sort of crouch. It only takes a minute or two for me to make out the form of a girl emerging from the forest. She's pale as snow, with hair black as night. Instantly I know her as the girl from Eptá– Chione, I think her name is.
Whereas I was able to gain control before walking into the stream, she isn't. I can still hear that calling song, but it is duller to me now. Chione seems entranced by it though, wading into the stream with sensual sways of her narrow hips. She's touching herself softly– swipes of her hands over her breasts, the curves of her waist...between her legs.
Gods, was I doing that when I was walking this way? For the sake of my mother watching the Games back at home, I hope not. Though I'm sure Prometheus would've gotten a kick out of it had I been. Even with the taste of him long faded– replaced by terror and stream water– I still remember the kisses.
It takes Chione getting waist-deep in the water before the singing stops. She seems to come out of her trance slowly, but by then it's too late. With an inhuman hiss, these things come scrabbling out of the water for her. There's three of them. They look like a cross between a fish and a woman, but more so fish with their hideous black eyes and gaping maws of mouths. One has fiery red hair, another ink black and the last sun blonde. They have breasts, but along their ribs are what look like gills. Their legs are nothing but curved fin with scaled flesh.
Chione screams as they grab at her with webbed hands, tearing into her flesh and sinking in their barbs of teeth. One rips through the clothing over her left breast and tears at the appendage in a spray of blood and I'm half-tempted to scream right back, but instead I turn away at the sound of the crunch of one of them sinking their teeth into Chione's pale throat as the others screech and chomp on her limbs. Chione begins to gurgle then, lots of splashing and hissing and screeching from the creatures before they drag Chione's now limp body under the surface, blood floating up to turn the stream a deep red.
A trumpet blares in the distance.
I feel like vomiting suddenly, but know it'll serve to quicken dehydration so I keep my mouth closed and stifle the dry heaves as well as I can. On shaky legs I stand, steer far and clear of the river by a good number of yards as I begin to follow it upstream, hoping for a way around the deeper parts.
The singing starts again an hour later, and I stuff my hands over my ears to keep it out.
It takes another two hours to make it to a new damn, where the stream starts to get thin again. About a ten minute walk and there is no more singing. I sigh in high relief, look to the horizon where the sky is beginning to darken. I realize that I should probably find something to eat and bed down for the night to conserve strength. My empty stomach grumbles happily at the thought.
I find a gaggle of raspberry bushes by some dumb luck about another mile upstream, greedily stuffing the little fruits into my mouth. There's also an olive tree near. I eat so many my belly aches, even as I lick the oil from my fingers.
I sit on the bank for a bit and let my stomach settle as the sky darkens, sipping at my canteen before refilling it. I think about where I should sleep for the night and realize up in the trees would be safest. Even if it'll be uncomfortable as hell, I have rope to strap myself in with and it's high and dry and away from the other tributes and those things in the stream, and whatever other gruesome creatures the Games offer up this year. Gods, I don't even want to know what else could be out there.
With a sigh, I open a side compartment of my pack and stuff it full of olives, knowing the raspberries won't keep long enough to carry with me. Luckily the pack is made from a thick leather like my corset, so it will keep the olives' juices in and fresh. I give a nod of approval and zip it up, take a peek inside the main compartment at the bag I thought to be food earlier.
Amazingly, it is.
Dried meats, fruits and nuts. I give a silent prayer of thanks, knowing that if there comes a time when I can't find anything else to eat, I'll be able to use these greatly.
I stand and stretch then, the fake sky of the arena turning to black, spattered with digital stars. There will be pictures in the sky of dead tributes soon– the mighty that have fallen. Snorting, I grab another handful of raspberries to snack on as I walk a little deeper into the forest, finding a nice cypress tree to climb. I get my bearings and remember all the old tricks from back home when I worked in the orchards while still young and light enough to pick fruit from trees.
It's three-fourths to the top before the branches start to groan under my weight. I scrabble back down a few branches and find the thickest one I can, which supports me well enough if I'm okay with my hips hanging off the sides a little. Too many honey buns, Charon would tease. He always did when I'd complain of men looking at my hips back home, not liking to be ogled. I know they're good for birthing and all, but now the chances of me ever having kids are pretty much one to a hundred, so they're just a hassle and make it so my butt hurts as I tie myself to the branch with a scowl. At least the rope from the pack is thick and sturdy. Like your fat hips, I think, letting out an exasperated sigh.
Settling back into the trunk, I finally realize just how exhausted I am. I've probably covered a third of the arena today in walking alone, and narrowly escaped death by Ares, that boy from Éxi and those things in the stream. I shudder, pull a face and take a sip of water from my canteen. I'm still wearing the pack on my back and trying to use it as a sort of pillow. When I wake up in the morning, I'm sure my face will smell like olives. At least the oil is good for the skin, Mom would say, but I give a derisive roll of my eyes to the thought. Who needs to worry about their skin when they're sleeping in an arena made to kill them?
I'm nearly drifting, when suddenly the sky lights up. There are ripples in the stars, before a giant screen begins flashing the faces of the fallen tributes. The girl from Tría, the boy from Pénte, the boy from Éxi– was it Hades' blow that killed you in the end?– poor Chione from Eptá, Phobos from Hebe's republic, Októ, and Hypnos from Déka.
Six.
Six dead for the day, which means there are still eighteen of us left. Artemis, Apollo and Hebe are in those numbers. So is Pan. And Hades and Hestia.
…And Ares.
Groaning, I turn my face into the pack and shut my eyes. Sleep comes easily, the exhaustion in my body taking over. I dream in vibrant colors, with blood soaking my neck and those black, black eyes of those things in the stream, Chione crying out as they clamp their teeth in her. Their songs mix in with my nightmares, just as Ares' leer and Hestia's squeal when the boy from Éxi tries to go at her, only in my dreams I'm too late to stop him. And it isn't his chest which Hades' sword goes through, but mine.
A/N: aforementioned 'things' in the water are Sirens, in case anyone was wondering. And trust me, they will not be the only creature of Greek lore in the fic.