A/N: Hey guys, I just wanted to clarify from the last chapter that I know Sirens are supposed to be three-winged bird-women, but I've always seen them more like mermaids, since they dwell at sea. As I've stated in previous chapters, I'm twisting the myths a bit. Please forgive me for not being cannon. Then again, a lot of this fic isn't cannon considering the Hunger Games universe and all, heh.
When I wake, it's to the light of the sun on the horizon.
Fake, I tell myself as I remember where I am. For all you know it could be night in the rest of Elláda. Shaking my head, I blink the sleep from my eyes. There's a crick in my neck, and I've slipped off the branch a bit. Damn these hips, I think wearily, glancing down at the forest floor below. There is no singing in the distance, those things far behind me. I didn't wake to the sound of a trumpet throughout the night, so I have a feeling that it's safe to say no other tributes have died yet.
But that doesn't mean there isn't still six dead kids that will never return to their families because of these Games.
Sighing, I wipe a bit of drool from the side of my mouth and pat my braids into place so they aren't sticking to my skin. I do, as I'd predicted, smell of olive oil. It's a familiar scent, like being back in Mom's garden at home. My heart aches with the thought and I begin untying myself from the branch. I need to start moving and see if I can find Hebe or the twins. I'm not only worried for their safety, but my own as well. At least in a group we'd all be better protected against attack.
Unless we turn on each other…
I make my way back down to the stream in quiet steps. The arena is less heated during the morning than the day; the humidity calmed. Still, the cool water of the stream is refreshing. I drink my fill as I eat more raspberries and olives, wishing there was bread too. Less than twenty-four hours without them and already, I miss carbs. I wish there was a better source of protein out here too, but for now the olives and berries have to be enough. I make sure to refill my canteen when I'm finished, moving farther upstream once done.
Hades said Hebe went west, and I'm hoping to find her most of all, but I'm headed more toward the north, where he mentioned Artemis and Apollo to be. Mainly it is because I want to find the shallowest part of this stream I can to wade through, just in case those things have followed me, though I have not heard an ounce of singing today.
It takes a three hour walk before finally I decide I need to just cross the stream now and get it over with. I don't like Hebe out there alone. Artemis and Apollo are together and no doubt have weapons and supplies they grabbed from the cornucopia so they'll be okay; Hebe ran off before she could get hold of anything, and I don't know if she's found the twins yet or not. She might even have gone deeper west into the forest, instead of heading north. We hadn't planned on being so split like this. We hadn't planned on me running off to be the hero and save Hestia the way I did either, yet I can't find it in myself to regret the decision.
The part of the stream where I finally cross is not too deep. At most it comes up to my knees, soaking my leggings in cool relief. By now, the sun is steadily rising in the sky, and even though it is not real it is making the heat in the arena renewal.
I'm sweating profusely before I realize it, and want to badly take this stupid corset off. But I don't have time to do that. Instead I take little sips of water from my canteen, wanting to conserve it as much as possible for when the heat really kicks in around noon.
A couple of more steps and I start to hear the rustling. It's a soft sort of sound, like something picking at a bush. Adrenaline suddenly spikes my blood and I pull the hunting knife from where it's sheathed in my belt, holding it in a defensive position, ears twitching to make out where the sound is coming from. It seems a couple of yards to my left and I turn sharp in the direction.
Should I put distance between myself and whatever is making the sound? But what if it's Hebe or Artemis or Apollo or even Pan? A sting of guilt hits at that last name. I haven't even considered going to find and help him, even though Hades told me which direction he went. Prometheus had said not to ally with Pan while in the arena, and no matter how much I feel I owe it to the young boy to help him, I won't refute Prometheus' advice any more than I already have. It's why I, like Hades, had snapped no when Hestia had asked if I could go with them to the mountain; that wasn't in the plan.
I mean, it was one thing to be rebellious before the Games, but now that they have begun I can't afford to do something stupid. I trust Prometheus, even if he is a bit insane. He did win his own Games, after all. And that was nearly twenty years ago, so he's had a lot of experience with this since. And plus those kisses he gave me reinstated how much he wants me alive.
Biting my lip with sudden chagrin as well as fear, I move closer to the sound of shuffling, parting the bushes with the knife at the ready. What I find shocks me– it's a fox. A very large fox with a shining coat and stunning green eyes. It's devouring a rabbit, bite by bite with blood staining its mouth. I can tell that if it stood on all fours, the fox's shoulders would be past my waist. And the sight should be terrifying, but instead it is absolutely beautiful.
I can't help the breath of amazement that escapes as I ogle the stunning animal, which alerts the fox to my presence. It turns its sharp, almost intelligent gaze towards me. For a moment I am frozen in alarm as it licks the blood from its chops. Will it attack me? But no, one sniff in my direction and the fox flees.
Instantly, I give chase after it.
I don't know why I do this. It's sure to be a fruitless endeavor for the animal is very fast, but then again, so am I. Its shining red coat is stark to the forest around us as we run through the trees, heading farther and farther west. I keep pace as best I can, trailing behind with harsh pants of breath and aching feet. My boots make sure I don't get stuck in the mud. My pack sloshes almost noiselessly against my back.
The fox increases its frenzied escape and I'm half tempted to call 'wait' after it. Something inside of me knows I must keep up with the animal. If only I could catch it…
Eventually, it outruns me. That's to be expected, and I should have known better than to follow it, really. I don't even fully understand what possessed me to do so. It's like the fox is destined never to be caught; I think that is why I want to catch it so much.
Covered in sweat and gasping for air, I drop to the ground and stare up at the forest canopy above me. I am below a budding cypress and see tinges of fake, blue sky overhead. How can an arena made to kill me be so beautiful? How can the Capital, capable of murderous violence, also create such amazing things?
I only have a moment to ponder the thought before footsteps invade my senses. I wish I could say it was the fox come back, but it isn't. These footsteps are definitely human– a soft tread on foliage. Getting my wits about me, I roll on my side into a grove of thorn bushes, ignore the sting as they scratch at my exposed skin. I've managed to keep hold of my knife this whole time, gripping it that much tighter as the footsteps begin to near me.
Slowly, Hebe steps out into the small patch of open space between the trees, her tulle eyes darting about anxiously.
"Hebe!" I say, startling the girl enough she's about to bolt. "Hebe, wait! It's me– it's Kore!" I disentangle myself from the bushes, push myself up to stand. The girl looks at me with a wide stare, lingering on the knife in my hand. "Oh," I say, flushing as I move to tuck it into my belt. I wipe away a speckle of blood from my cheek from where the thorns tore open the skin. "Sorry."
"Kore," she finally breathes in relief, small shoulders relaxing. "What happened to you yesterday?"
"I– Ares chased me and I had to go east," I say, deciding to omit my encounter with Hestia, Hades and the dead boy from Éxi. "I've been trying to find you."
"Thank the Gods," she says. "I've been hiding out all morning. I haven't seen anyone else, but there was this thing…"
"Was it in the water?" I ask, flashing with fear as I remember Chione, screaming desperately as those things in the stream bit into her flesh, all that blood in the water.
Hebe looks confused for a moment, shaking her head. "No, no. It was this huge cat-like animal, but it had the tail of a scorpion!" My eyes widen at the description. "It was eating a dear. But then I think, I think it smelled me or something, and it ended up chasing me up a tree. It took hours before the thing lost interest and I could climb down. I've been trying to put as much distance between it and me as possible. It's more south-west now; at least that's the direction it left in."
Swallowing uncomfortably in mention of this new beast, I glance at her scraped palms covered in dirt. Probably from trying to climb the tree quickly to get away. Her tunic has leaves stuck to it too, sticky with sap. It's stitched with silver unlike the gold of my own, little patterned twists in her leather corset. She's got her golden hair up in braids much like mine, but they've come out some, tugged at by branches. She looks so much a child, and a frightened and hungry one at that.
"I have olives," I say, hooking a thumb towards the pocket of my bag that houses them. "And water. Have you had anything to drink or eat yet?"
"I found a small brook yesterday," Hebe says. "I slept by it, but haven't had anything to drink since this morning. The last time I ate was yesterday, before the Games…"
I nod. "Help yourself to the olives then. You can have some water too, but only small sips, okay? We have to conserve it until we find another source."
She nods back eagerly, moving to the pocket of food I indicated towards. I unhook the canteen from the clip it's attached to on the pack and let her take a few drinks before she digs into the leftover olives I have with me.
"We need to head north," I tell her, pointing towards the mountain on the horizon. "That's the way Artemis and Apollo went, and they're still alive."
"I know," says Hebe, licking at the oil on her lips. "I saw that Phobos died yesterday… I feel kind of bad, y'know? He was from my republic."
"I understand," I say; I'd feel the same if something were to happen to Pan. Maybe even guiltier, because he's small and defenseless and I've done nothing but impair his chances so far, trying to act supportive when we both knew I wouldn't help him once the Games really got up and running. I swallow the culpability in my throat at that; begin to walk north.
"Have you seen anyone else?" Hebe asks softly as she takes stride next to me, her footfalls more silent now that she's been fed and had something to quench her thirst. She's sweating as profusely as I am, though not as soaked to the bone because at least she wasn't stupidly chasing giant foxes.
It led you to her, a voice in the back of my head reasons.
"Yeah…" I murmur in answer to her question, Chione's screams echoing through my mind. Last night, before I finally fell asleep, I thought about maybe how I should have helped her, or something. Stopped her from going into that stream so those things couldn't get their claws in her. Her kill won't be put on my counter, but in my own head, her death is my fault. "I saw the girl from Eptá at this stream farther back east. There were these…monsters in the water there. She didn't make it."
"Oh," says Hebe, her expression twisting. "Was it awful, to watch someone die? I haven't– I got away from the bloodbath before I could see anything."
"It is awful," I say, and not only remember Chione's desperate eyes, but the feeling of the dead boy from Éxi's blood running down the back of my neck, Hades' unhesitant blow. "It…" It isn't right, I want to say, but I know that will just set the Capital against me– this is their design, after all– so I simply trail off and stare at my feet as Hebe and I continue to walk.
It's silent, the next few hours. Not an awkward silence, but an amiable one. Both Hebe and I are determined to cover ground. A few hours past noon, we take a moment to rest and pass my canteen back and forth, sipping at the water gingerly. I suggest that we head back to the stream I found originally, and follow it as far north as we can get. Maybe not to the mountain exactly, but we can stick to it as a base and branch off throughout the days to find sight of the twins. This way, we'll have a water source and hopefully find some more food on its banks.
Hebe agrees with me and by near nightfall, we've somehow managed to find our way back to it, drinking greedily from its cold waters. We find a fig tree and stuff ourselves full of the fruit, lying on the bank for a while, simply staring as the sun finally sinks on the fake horizon.
"Is sleeping in a tree okay with you?" I ask her, eyeing a sturdy pine a few yards away from the bank.
"I don't know how I'll manage not to fall out," she says sheepishly, a blush tingeing her light cheeks.
I smile. "Leave that part to me."
The rope's long enough that I can cut her a sturdy section, helping tie her to a branch above the one I rest on, higher off the ground than I was last night. It feels safer this way. No fishy things in the stream, no giant foxes, no cats with scorpion tales able to find us. And, hopefully, no bloodthirsty tributes either.
The sky remains dark even as the digital stars come out. No tributes have been killed today. I can't help wondering what the rest of them are doing. Especially Pan; where is the small boy hiding so none of the bigger kids can get a hold of him? Have Hestia and Hades made it to the mountain yet? Are Artemis and Apollo looking for Hebe and me, or have they given up? Is Ares stalking around in the dark out there, the rest of the Demigods at his side?
And what of the dead tributes; where are they now? Heaven? I've never been able to believe in such a thing. My mother always said everything recycles back into the earth, once it is dead. Will those tributes be born again as flowers and trees, once their corpses are planted in the ground? What of Chione? I don't think there could be anything left of her, with how vicious those things were. Will her spirit ever find peace, or be stuck in their bellies an eternity?
"Kore?"
"Yeah, Hebe?" I ask, licking my lips where the sweet taste of figs remains.
"What's it like in Énteka? Is it nice?"
I blink at her question, stare off into the trees far away from us. "It's nothing special," I tell her. Because how can I talk of the violence and the famine and the working yourself the bone? How can I say it's awful, and vile and the guards there hurt you just for looking at them wrong without sounding like I am betraying the Capital? How can I say it killed my father, and my siblings' father, and my brother too? How can I say it's broken my mother more than the Capital has even though they took her lover away, calling him a God and never letting him see her or his son that they whipped to death in the streets just for slurring the president, who is a vile, awful man and deserved it in the first place?
How can I tell Hebe, a mere child, of the way people fight over scraps when the harvest season goes bad and we all begin to starve? How can I tell her of the time a dirty, crazy man broke into the shop and tried to rob us before I hit him over the head with a pot to keep him from getting up the stairs to my siblings? How can I tell her of the young girls who go out by the slag and let the guards buy them and do as they please, because at least it's better to be paid while they rape you? How can I tell her of the innocent people I've seen collapse in the fields and die because everyone has to keep working instead of help? How can I tell her of the corpses I've seen rot in the sun because most are too poor to afford burying their dead?
I can't; I can't tell her any of that so I leave it at 'nothing special' because it's the best I can come up with without ripping myself to shreds in anger and tears and cursing the Capital for letting my republic go to ruins like that. For taking all the food we produce to feed their pampered residents, while boys like Pan turn to skin and bones.
While Plutus whimpers and cries because he just wants the pain to be over…
"What about Októ?" I ask. "How do you like it there?"
"It's okay," says Hebe vaguely, sucking in a deep breath. "Being small helps me because we all have to work in the factories, if you aren't a merchant I mean. I get to make pretty lace for the Capital's chitons because I'm good with my hands. But you have to be really careful; lots of people loose limbs on the thread cutters there. My older brother, Ganymede, he lost his hand last year when trying to cut pallets of fabric. He almost died, but luckily we got the blood to stop before that happened."
"That's good," I say, a hitch in my voice. I wish we could have saved Plutus that way. "Losing an older brother sucks."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Kore!" Hebe says suddenly, and I see her peek over her limb of the tree, eyes seeking mine to show her sincerity. "I forgot about your brother."
"It's okay," I tell her. "It was a while ago."
"Hermes said last year…?" Hebe questions softly.
"About two," I correct her. "He would've been nineteen this year; never would have had to put his name in the drawing again."
And we're both apt for silence after that. Hebe rights herself on her branch and eventually, I hear her breathing slow as she drifts into sleep, soft snores escaping her chest. I smile slightly, letting my own eyes close. I try not to think of Plutus lying prone on the table and dying, or of the boy from Éxi's blood on my neck, or of Chione screaming and screaming. Instead I drift off to the thought of foxes, trying to give chase.
The next day is spent in wondering the area around the stream, heading farther north. No other tributes die again, and Hebe and I spend our evening on the stream's bank, nibbling at figs and, not so happily, mushed grubs we found in the tree hollows. It isn't appetizing in the least, but we need the protein to keep up our strength. And if you smash them up with figs and sprigs of basil we found from a nearby bush, they're not too horrendous in taste. It's mainly a slimy texture thing.
"Gods, what I wouldn't give for bread," I say, making sure to drink plenty of water from the canteen to get the grub-grease out of my mouth.
"Mhm," Hebe mumbles around a mouth of mush.
It takes exactly twelve minutes for the golden basket to drop from the sky, then. It's attached to a silky parachute and falls at the bank just five feet away from me. Hebe and I look at each other with startled eyes before I scamper over to the basket and open it, finding a loaf of honey-wheat inside. It's still steaming hot, and my mouth waters.
"Oh, Gods, thank you," I say happily, looking around for whatever camera is near to smile at it, hoping the sponsors that have sent this gift can see. "Thank you."
I drag the basket over between Hebe and me and break the loaf into half, taking one and breaking it into half again. I hand one of the pieces to Hebe, who gives me an astounded expression. "You're giving me your gift?"
"Of course I am," I say simply. "Here, take it."
She does, eagerly filling her small mouth with quick and happy nibbles. We share a smile as I do the same with my own bread, happy that it takes the taste of grub out of my mouth and instead replaces it with the warmness of honey and yeast. I mmm appreciatively and sprawl out on my elbows, letting my head drop back. Two days without bread was utter torture, and that makes me realize how spoiled I've been my whole life. Back in Énteka, even in the worst of times, my family still had bread. Granted, it wasn't much, but a morsel worth for each day's dinner. Many people had none at all.
I try to stamp away the guilt in my chest at the thought and finish my half, wrapping the leftovers in the parachute that came with the basket. I put it in my pack, wanting to save it for later.
Hebe and I go to sleep satiated, full bellies as we dream until the morning.
When we rise, it's to the sun and a trumpet blare.