Right on to chapter 19. We're finally getting into the thick of the games, here. Let us see how young Tobi copes.
Enjoy
The darkness brings an unexpected level of cold. The day was mild, even fairly warm, so I am surprised by the biting chill that creeps over my skin as I attempt to settle in. I sit in the arms of a large tree, having scrambled up the rough bark after drinking my fill and refilling the water bottle. Everything is securely packed away, my backpack currently serving as a cushion against the tree's unforgiving trunk. I thought it would be better to be off the ground for the night, away from anything prowling around, and safely out of sight. A good theory...if not for this infernal cold. I am without any kind of real warmth-I have no blankets or sleeping sack, and it's far too risky to attempt a fire (not to mention, my chances of actually making one are slim at best). As a result, it isn't long before I clamber back down from my perch. With numb fingers and toes, it's hardly surprising when I slip on the way down and, with a muffled yelp, fall ungracefully to the ground.
Of course I would fall. But I'm lucky-I land solidly on my back and the wind is knocked out of me, but nothing appears broken or damaged. Even the smallest injury would have been fatal.
Once I recover the use of my lungs, I scramble to my feet and scan the darkness, every sense piqued. Who knows where the other tributes are-there"s a solid chance someone heard the fall. Sure enough, a steady rustling catches my attention from the other side of the little pond. I whirl, back up against the tree, and glue my eyes to where I think the sound comes from. I imagine I can see the undergrowth shift, and the rustling grows louder. I wish fervently that I had some kind of weapon, and cast around in the dark to find something, anything. My eyes land on a stick a few feet away from me. It's not much-perhaps two feet in length, a couple inches thick. For all I know it's rotted straight through. But at least it's something.
I lunge for the stick at the same moment something bursts from the brush, thankful to find it heavy and solid. I skid in the leaves, hands wrapped firmly around the wood, and brandish it as confidently as I can at the tribute across from me.
It's not a career-I can tell that much, if only because there doesn't seem to be anyone with it. I listen for a moment as silence falls-it's stopped moving and merely stands at the water's edge, and all rustling or other signs of approach have ceased with it. I lower my makeshift club a fraction of an inch and squint into the darkness, trying to figure out who it is.
It appears female-taller than me, but still slender. Her head is a silhouette with a round knot of hair at the crown, and she seems to hold nothing in her hands. I decide to take a gamble.
"Who are you?" I whisper across to her. My voice comes out harsh and loud against the thick quiet of the forest, and I see her figure flinch, her head cast side to side as though making sure no one heard. "What district are you from?" I ask again. She leans down and over the water.
"Eight," she answers hesitantly. Eight...I think back over the last few days, trying to remember who she is, what I know about her. I seem to recall she was rather strong, good at climbing and decent with her hands. Red hair. Not that memorable. District eight does what? Lumber?
"I'm from four," I respond begrudgingly. It's only fair, I suppose. "You don't know where the careers are, do you?" I ask. She seems harmless, for the moment-no more anxious to kill than I am. She shakes her head in the dark.
"I haven't seen them since the bloodbath," she whispers, and I see her cringe slightly at the term. I nod slowly, thinking. They probably went to the lake...unless they're prowling around looking for people to kill...
"Well...I suppose we can share the pond for tonight," I offer, though it means I will get no sleep whatsoever. She seem harmless enough, and I don't want to kill her...but she's still another tribute. An enemy.
"Thanks," she intones after a moment. I see her settle down near the fallen tree on the opposite side of the pool. At least if she comes to get me, I'll hear her splashing around first...
Comfortable with our arrangement for the time being, I return to my tree and gaze up at the branches. There's no way I'm getting back up there, tonight. I need to find a way to get warm...a shiver passes through me. I was able to ignore the cold through my conversation with Eight-it was more important-but now that the distraction has subsided the chill hits me full force. Thankfully, the tree's roots protrude from the ground like tentacles, and I nestle myself comfortably between two of them. I dig into the ground, huddle into the relative warmth of the earth, and pile displaced dirt and dead leaves over myself all the way up to my chest. It's not as effective as a blanket-it smells of decay, and I can feel tiny things crawling through it-but it's enough to see me through the night. I yank the knit cap farther down my head and snuggle in, my backpack a lumpy and slightly hard barrier between me and the tree.
For what seems an eternity, my muscles remain stiff and tense, and I keep my eyes trained fitfully on the surrounding area. But eventually, I feel a tingling weakness pervade my limbs as I relax, and my eyes droop. I don't want to sleep-it's the most vulnerable I can be-but I can't fight the exhaustion, and soon I fall into a relaxed doze.
I jolt awake at dawn to a blood curdling scream. I sit bolt upright so fast it makes my head spin, and dry leaves and dirt are sent cascading through the hair to catch the early morning light. I blink, confused, and my bleary gaze searches frantically for the source of the noise. My heart pounds in my head, and I scramble to my feet. In the process, a flurry of motion catches my eye.
Across the pond, Eight is on the ground, scrambling toward the water on her back. Her red hair hangs loose from her tight bun and what I can see of her face is frozen in terror. Her hand seems to clutch at her left shoulder, and I realize that red wells up from between her fingers. With a thick swallow, my eyes shift away from her to light on the assailant.
It's the boy from five. He towers over her, dark hair partially obscuring his face. His lips are drawn back in a feral snarl, and his one visible, nearly black eye is narrowed viciously. A glimmer draws my attention to his left hand, curled around a silver axe handle. He lifts it, swings it around almost casually, wielding it incredibly well for a relatively scrawny guy. Must be made out of aluminum, I think absently.
As I watch, he swings at Eight, speed deadly. By some miracle, she dodges, flips onto her stomach and crawls away. The blade thwacks into the ground, sending debris a foot into the air. I flinch, and she makes eye contact with me. For a moment her eyes stretch wide, eyebrows scrunched up with desperation, and she opens her mouth.
"Help m-" she begins, and I watch, frozen in horror, as the boy from five swings again, the blade lodging with a sickening crack into her spine, right at the base of her neck. Her voice is cut off with an odd squeak and a gurgle, and her eyes flood with shock and panic. Then her face falls slack and flops like a dead fish into the ground.
I stumble back, away from the scene, trip over my heels and land on my butt, eyes stuck to her lifeless figure. The movement draws five's attention, and his gaze snaps to me. Everything seems to move in slow motion as he yanks his axe from Eight, releasing a spring of blood, and begins wading through the pond with evil intent. I crawl backwards in a grotesque parallel of Eight's desperation only moments before. My hand lands on the stick from last night, and my fingers instinctively curl around it. I take a deep breath, force the panic out of my head.
Okay, Tobi, I think, watching him get closer by the second. Just do something-anything. All you need is a moment, and you can run...Nearly shaking with fear, I rise to my feet just as he steps onto my side of the pond. He's mere feet from me, and though my sweaty palms clench my stick with all my strength, my heart sinks. There's no way I can beat him-his axe will cut through my only weapon with one stroke. I'm going to die...
Well, well, well...aren't we in a bit of a pickle, here. Tobi's definitely in a tough spot...I hope she pulls out okay! I have faith...even if she doesn't.
Now, obviously, there are going to have to be some interactions between Tobi and Cato during the games. Please leave comments if you have any scene requests! Also, now is about the time to start thinking about endings-hard to believe, right? Needless to say, I have some ideas of my own that work around Katniss and Peeta as the sole victors of the game. That being said, I'm always excited to hear what you all think-I want to write what you want to read :) So, let me know, haha.
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