A/N: After a decade-long wait, chapter five is finally up! Again, I apologize for the long, agonizing wait I put you through. I promise I'll try to update faster next time—even if it means I'll have to write till the wee hours of the morning—because that's just how much I love you guys! Thank you so much for all the feedback, they drive me to write better and all that. =)
Also, constructive criticism is always welcome! If you have any questions or spot any errors or holes in the plot, don't hesitate to tell me. 'Cause you know, it inspires me to consistently improve my writing and to write the story in the best quality that I can for you. Really, it's a win-win. :)
Shoutout to my Beta, Charlie! Thank you for helping me spot blunders and work my way through them. I promise to keep your tips in mind. =) You're the best! *Sending you a virtual Double Hotfudge Sundae*
Ten yards. That's how near I am to my bow and arrows when the girl from Seven crashes into me sideways, knocking out every ounce of air I have. I luckily land a punch in her throat, making her upper half stagger back. Just as I'm pushing her off me, a spear goes right through her middle, skewering her liver and possibly her right kidney.
"You're welcome," Cato says, holding out a hand. A few feet behind him stood the boy from Seven. Seeing his district partner pretty much dead he prepares to lunge himself at Cato, a wicked axe in tow.
I quickly take Cato's hand, snatching an ear dagger strapped in his belt and hurling it at the running boy. I was only hoping for a solid shot to slow him down, but instead the dagger pierces the hollow of his throat, making him choke on his own blood as the life drains from his body.
"I guess you're welcome too." I look up at Cato as the boy falls face down to the earth.
He grins. "Nice shot."
"I got lucky." I realize he's too close for comfort yet again. His left hand is resting on my waist, reminiscent to how he held me that night when we danced at the ball. Not tearing away his gaze, he brings his hand up, lightly grazing my side before wiping a streak of blood on my cheek. His other hand—the one he offered me moments ago— envelops mine as it rests on his chest. I can feel his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt, loud and clear and steady, whereas mine is pounding erratically against my ribcage a hundred miles an hour. I swallow audibly, not trusting my vocal chords which are more or less inactive at the moment. I have no idea how we got into this position.
"Hey Fire Girl!" Marvel yells, three yards to my right. He tosses my bow and arrows at my feet, then goes off to chase the girl from Three.
I waste no time standing there, the presence of the familiar weapon completely waking up my battle reflexes. Stepping away from Cato, I sling my quiver over my shoulder and pick my first target.
The boy from Eight is about twenty feet across me, slinging a large navy blue backpack on one shoulder. He looks back at Clove who just finished dissecting the boy from Nine.
Well, here goes nothing. It's either my arrow or Clove's lethal array of knives. I pull an arrow from my sheath, drawing back my bowstring and sending the arrow right through the center of his neck. I bet he didn't even know what hit him. He's dead before he even hit the ground.
I whip around to see Cato still watching me. He gives me another one of his trademark winks before running off to the Cornucopia, where the boy from Six is currently bludgeoning Hal with a spiked mace.
There's no one in my vicinity now. I look around and see the District One tributes fighting it out with the girl from Six and the boy from Five. They're near enough that I can hear the girl's bloodcurdling screams as Glimmer splits her abdomen open. Wanting to block out the horrifying sound I run to the other side of the field, a flash of familiar, curly dark hair stopping me in my tracks.
Rue. She's clearly on her way to the forest when the girl from Ten slams into her and they both fall to the ground due to the impact. I reach for an arrow and take my aim, but the girl's sudden movement caused me to miss her heart, puncturing her left lung instead. She howls in pain as the arrow sinks deep in her chest, the crimson of her blood staining the grassy field.
Rue watches me with wide eyes, shaking with fear. Her terrified state reminds me of Prim a few moments before the Reaping.
"Go." I pick up the girl's pack, throwing it to Rue. She gives me one last glance before scooping it up and disappearing into the woods.
When she's well out of sight, I turn my attention to the girl from Ten. She's desperately holding on to the last slivers of her life, gasping for air, blood bubbling in her mouth every time she takes a breath. I move closer to her, letting go of the arrow and delivering the death blow. This time I hit her squarely in the heart, and I make the mistake of looking at her face as I did. She holds my gaze, forcing me to watch as the light slowly leaves her eyes. She exhales one last time, then breathed no more. I retrieve my arrows from her body, putting the bloody tips away from my line of vision as I head back to where the others are.
The battle seems to be over now, and I count all the lifeless bodies littering the field. Eleven tributes down, Hal included. He's still breathing, but the steady flow of blood from his temple has him knocking on death's door.
"You stole my kill!" I hear Clove yell as I get closer. There seems to be an argument between her and Tamara.
"You let Hal die!" Tamara says.
"He's dead, anyway. He already was the moment the boy from Six hammered him with that mace. Cato's merely ending the little boy's suffering," Glimmer interjects, defending Cato, who, by the way, just slit the thirteen-year old boy's throat a few yards from us.
Clove disregards Tamara's argument, her rage at its peak. "I saved your ass, you dumb bitch. You were as good as dead if I didn't wound that girl from Nine."
"What's going on?" I whisper to Marvel. I figure it's safe to talk to him, since he doesn't seem to fancy glaring the living crap out of me like the rest of the people here. Besides, he gave me my bow. That ought to count for something, right?
Anyway, he fills me in on what caused this little shindig. It turns out Tamara's on her way to help Hal when the girl from Nine collided with her. She nearly blacked out from the blow, making her unable to defend herself. Clove arrives just in time, injuring the girl's right arm and Tamara, in her haze, stabbed the knife at the girl's chest killing her instantly.
"Aaand add the fact that Tamara used Clove's knife to kill the girl," Marvel adds.
Clove's screeching now, her balled up fists shaking in anger. She didn't injure the girl because she wanted to save Tamara. She could've just thrown at the girl's throat to get it over with, but she didn't because she likes to play with her prey before she kills them. And with Tamara intervening and killing the girl with her knife, I understand why Clove's beyond pissed.
Cato steps in, his irritation almost visibly rolling off of him in waves. "Would everybody just shut the fuck up? You, stop whining unless you want to end up like your district partner," he says, looking at Tamara before turning to Clove. "And Clove, there are plenty other tributes out there to torture and kill so stop getting your knickers in a bunch."
Well, that shut everyone up. The tension is so thick you can almost cut it with a plastic spoon. Tamara appears to be sizing Clove up, her eyes flitting back and forth from Clove's enraged expression to her right hand that's clutching a silver-hilted knife. Behind Clove stood Glimmer, who glares at me like she's plotting my demise in a hundred possible ways.
"I think we should move." Four other pairs of eyes turn to look at me. "The hovercrafts must be on their way to pick up the bodies as we speak."
Clove raises her eyebrows, looking as if she's about to say something derisive when Cato speaks up. "Let's go to the lake. Bring some weapons if you want."
It takes the hovercrafts twenty minutes to pick up the dead bodies from the Cornucopia. It isn't supposed to take that long, given that only eleven tributes died, but I suppose picking up some itty bitty internal parts scattered around kind of lengthened their job. Before the last of the hovercrafts leave, the cannons signifying the tributes' deaths start firing. I absentmindedly wash my three bloodstained arrows, wiping the tips on the hem of my jacket as I count the shots.
Eleven. Somehow, somewhere in this god-forsaken arena, Peeta's still alive. I almost let out a sigh of relief.
"What a joy it must be, Fire Girl. Lover Boy's still alive and breathing," Clove says, lining the inside of her coat with knives.
I put my arrows back on my quiver and slide it onto my shoulder. "I'm simply keeping track of who's left. Wouldn't hurt to know our competition, right, Clove?"
"All right. That's enough," Cato interferes, standing in front of me and hauling me up by the arm. I let out a little yelp of surprise as he starts making his way back to the Cornucopia, his hand grasping my left wrist. Behind us I see Clove roll her eyes before sending another bone-chilling stare at Tamara, who returns it as fiercely as she can. As usual, Glimmer glowers at my general direction. I'm beginning to think she reserves that bitchy death glare only for me. Marvel, on the other hand, looks extremely amused at the sight before him. He sighs theatrically, facing the trees to our left. At least one of them must have a camera lodged deep inside its trunk.
"Girls," he says, turning up the cocky charm. The viewers must be having a good laugh at his antics right now.
Upon reaching the Cornucopia, we start going over the supplies, opening packs and bins and burlaps. Cato places five big crates on the mouth of the Cornucopia. Food goes to the farthest right, with medicine next to it. Weapons to the center, survival items on its left, then clothes and other personal stuff on the last crate.
Irrational anger boils up inside me. Here we are, with food and medicine and other necessities that will most likely outlast us, while the rest of Panem battle starvation. I think of the Capitol residents, eating mountains of food and sitting on the edge of their plush couches as we tributes slaughter each other. What fun they must be having, watching us have our humanity and morals slip away from us. I can't help but resent them, how easy it is for them to get what we are forced to provide for them with little to no effort. While the Districts work hard to produce their quotas, these Capitol people are too busy dyeing their hair and picking their outfits and planning parties. Most of all, I resent them for supporting this twisted mess of a reality show. Is the call for blood so strong that it overshadows that of mercy? Do those people even know what mercy means?
I glare at the pack full of toiletries in my hands. Even this doesn't fail to annoy me. Shampoos and shower gels of different scents, stuffed cozily inside a waterproof pouch. It reminds me just how much the Capitol lives a far better life than the outlying Districts. I'm tearing open the pouch when Marvel's voice interrupts my thoughts.
"If I were you, Fire Girl, I'd stay away from anything vanilla scented."
"And why should I do that?" I say, opening up a new pack and sorting through its contents. I move to the survival items, tossing a rope in an overflowing bin.
"Because Glimmer doesn't like to have someone around her who smells like her signature scent." He smirks, leaning back on some rolled-up sleeping bags beside the crate.
If we aren't on national television, I would have just ignored him. But since we are and he's just up for some harmless conversation, I thought it would be smart to just acknowledge him.
"Good thing I don't have a passion for vanilla."
"Oh?" He says. "What's your... preferred scent, then?"
"Strawberries."
"Well in that case, you should have this." Marvel plucks a pink bottle from the toiletries box inside the last crate, throwing it to me.
I read the label on the shampoo bottle. "Strawberries and champagne, huh?"
"Sweet, yet dangerous. Suits you." He smiles, leaning closer to me. So it's official. Marvel Gallagher is flirting with me. I guess everybody wants a piece of the heartbreaker-girl-on-fire-slash-sponsor-magnet.
"You think so?" I say, neither encouraging nor deterring his advances.
"Yep. Am I wrong?"Apparently he saw my response as an encouragement. He leans in, closer and closer, until his face is mere centimeters from mine. I scoot backwards till the back of my head bumps on the edge of the Cornucopia. Oh shit.
"Uhmm, I—"
"As much as I'd hate to interrupt your playtime, Clove actually needs your help, you downgraded version of Finnick Odair." Cato appears out of nowhere, his eyes narrowed. Marvel stands up immediately, running off to Clove like a scared-out-of-his-shit puppy. Cato stares at me some more before yanking my arm again, bringing me to my feet.
"I can stand up on my own, you know." I glower at him, momentarily forgetting the 'budding romance' bullshit. He rolls his eyes, huffing out then turning his back on me. That's it. "What is your problem?" I sneer, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around to face me.
"My problem?" He lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Why, I'm honored I even got a sliver of your attention, since you seem to be so keen on showering Marvel with buckets of it."
Now he makes it sound like I'm some sort of a harlot. We haven't even made it through the first day yet, I wonder how long we'll last with this loveteam crap before it blows up on our faces.
I'm about to say how big of a dick he's being when Glimmer materializes on his side. "Hey, can you help me with the water barrels? Marvel's still with Clove and I can't lift them myself," she says, taking Cato's arm and leading him to where the barrels are. Cato gives me a lingering glance, indicating that this talk is not over. As they're walking away, Glimmer whips her head back and gives me the bitch stare. This time, I don't hesitate to give back one of my own.
By nightfall, we're almost finished sorting the supplies. I help Tamara prepare our meal while the others store away the last of our things that are scattered around. All the while, I catch Clove glancing at me repeatedly. Maybe she's making sure I won't poison her food.
Just as we're eating our dinner, the anthem plays and the death recaps begin. Marvel makes his commentaries regarding the fallen tributes' deaths, the others laughing loudly at his imitation of Caesar Flickerman. Anybody within a ten-mile radius can probably hear us. Not that my teammates care, anyway. We're the crème of the crop, and if somebody did hear us, they must've run like hell.
"So, Cato, do we hunt tonight?" Clove asks as she empties her bowl of soup.
"There's been enough blood for today, I say we take the night off and hunt tomorrow," Cato says. He's clearly the Alpha Male, the type that whenever he lays down the command, nobody dares question it.
So when he said we disregard the tents and we all sleep in the Cornucopia, no one begged to differ. It was, however, the sleeping arrangements where conflicts of interest arose.
"All right, guys. Let's settle this once and for all. Clove here doesn't want to be too close to Tamara. The feeling's mutual, I assume?" Marvel turns to Tamara, who merely affirms with a grunt. "And my lovely district partner Glimmer doesn't want to be next to me, though we all know it has nothing to do with my irresistible charms and she just wants to sleep next to Cato. So I suggest we go for Clove, Glimmer, Cato, Katniss, Me, and Tamara. All in favor?"
I can tell Cato's not very happy with this arrangement, but hearing no complaints from the rest of us, he just gives Marvel an affirmative nod and we all settle in for the night.
"Don't take this personally, but I'd really appreciate it if you keep your hands to yourself," Marvel whispers to me as he wedged his sleeping bag between mine and Tamara's.
"Fuck you," I spat.
"As tempting as that sounds, no way. Cato's going to kill me." He smirks. His eyes flit to Cato, who's scouting the camp one last time. I elbow him hard on the ribs, making his smirk grow even wider.
"You know, Cato's actually right. You really are a knock-off version of Finnick Odair," I say. Marvel isn't bad-looking, but he isn't that good-looking either. While his looks are somewhere around above average, it's his attitude that makes him likeable. Humor is his angle, and he's playing it well.
"Now, now. No need to be such a bitch, Fire Girl. You may not have noticed, but I find your company the least unpleasant among our comrades."
I take a moment to survey the rest of our team. Clove and her sadistic tendencies that are downright unnerving. Tamara, who just keeps to herself but is otherwise deadly when it comes down to it. And Glimmer, with her spider-monkey cling on Cato and her unyielding loathing for me. Putting myself in Marvel's shoes, I can see why he chose to stick with me. Although I'm the biggest killer here, I sure have the least bitch episodes and the most entertainment factor. Not that I'm proud of that or anything.
"Wow. Thank you for the backhanded compliment," I say, sliding inside my sleeping bag. Cato enters the Cornucopia, giving us a reluctant glance before his once again narrowed eyes focus on Marvel, daring him to make another move on me.
Marvel moves his sleeping bag away from mine, making sure to emphasize the now-considerable distance between us. Smirking, he tucks himself into his sleeping bag. "You are most welcome, love. Sleep tight."
"Katniss. Hey, wake up." Tamara's hushed voice reached my ears as I regain consciousness. Outside the safety of the Cornucopia, the arena is as still as lake water. Its predators—tributes and animals alike—are in their respective dens, waiting for their prey to make a mistake. Obviously I wouldn't be awake now if nobody did. The night's still deep, with the moon still illuminating the arena with its pale glow. Beside me, Marvel's trying to set his hair back to its rightful style, which turned into a disheveled mess. On my other side, Cato stirs as Tamara shakes his shoulder. His left arm is extended over to Glimmer, who uses it as some sort of pillow. I narrow my eyes at said arm. When Finnick and Haymitch got me to agree on this 'flirt or die trying' method, I think they forgot to tell me how to handle competition.
Something tells me I'm not handling it well at all.
Cato opens his eyes and sees me eyeing him suspiciously. He cocks an eyebrow at me, but I feel like ignoring him right now so I turn to Tamara instead.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"I think I saw smoke out there." Tamara nods her head to the woods. If she's right, we might just have been in the arena with the biggest imbecile in the history of the Games. Whoever built a damn fire might as well have shown up in front of the Cornucopia, waved a red flag and yelled 'Come and get me!'
All of us are up and out of our sleeping bags in less than a minute. I look up the sky, searching for the telltale smoke that'd confirm the location of our prey. Our prey. I squirm inwardly. The more time I spend with the Careers, the more I start thinking like them.
After a few seconds, I spot it. All the way up to a valley-like terrain, the placid indigo of the midnight sky is stained by grayish wisps of smoke. I stop myself before I pinpoint it. Should I tell the others I saw it? Should I lead my ruthless teammates to a possibly helpless tribute? With years of hunting, I slowly came to recognize the disturbances the human presence brings to the woods. They might be Careers with unrelenting battle reflexes and deadly accuracy, but they're no hunters. They don't know when a certain place is marked.
"Well? Where is it?" Glimmer demanded.
"There." Tamara points at the general direction of the valley. "Can't you see it?"
"I won't be able to if there's nothing to see," Glimmer snaps. Bitch sounds more pissed than Clove when her kill was stolen.
"If you woke us up for nothing…" Clove says, crossing her arms. In her right hand dangles a gilded dagger, the same one Tamara used to kill the girl from Nine. If there really is nothing to see, Tamara's throat would be under that slightly curved, nefarious blade. Or her abdomen. Or her ears. Or her eyes. Whichever Clove wants to come off first.
"I see it," I say. I guess I should feel no remorse if it really is a tribute out there. Not to be a bitch or anything, but come on. If they're stupid enough to build a damn fire in the middle of the damn night, it's not my damn fault.
Cato draws out his sword from its sheath. "Grab your blades, guys. We're going hunting."
It took us around four hours of combined running and jogging to reach the girl. Curled up around her fire, she sleeps peacefully; her head cradled in her backpack while layers of pine needles serve as her cushion.
"Somebody's eager to die." Clove smirks, twisting a dagger between her fingers. This one's a silver number, slim and dainty, with swirling designs covering the blade. In a flick of her wrist the knife lodges to the ground, narrowly missing the tip of the girl's nose. Not that Clove missed, by the way. Knowing her, she purposely did that to frighten the girl awake.
Bolting up, our victim whips her head side to side looking for an escape. She's on the verge of crying now, her eyes brimming with tears. "You guys take care of her. Her stupidity might contaminate me," Clove says, chuckling as the girl goes down on her knees, pleading for her life.
Cato looks at each one of us. Seeing that no one's gonna step up and do it, he strides over to the girl. He hauls her up much like the way he did to me back at camp. This time, though, I hear the sickening swish of the blade as it pierces the girl's flesh. A tormented cry, followed by a meaty thud as her limp body collapses to the ground.
Clove picks up the dagger she threw minutes earlier. "Well.. that was more boring than I expected."
She kicks the girl's pack to Marvel's feet, who checks it for anything useful. He dumps out the contents before tossing the backpack to Glimmer. "Here you go, Glims. I heard you have a thing for pink." Glimmer's hesitant to take it, but catches it anyway.
Cato thinks we should go back to camp, seeing as dawn's already approaching and our supplies are left unguarded. I trail behind Glimmer, with Cato and Clove on the lead while Tamara and Marvel bring up the rear. We're about a few hundred yards away from the crime scene when Clove stops us.
"Girl's not dead yet," she says.
"She's dead. I struck her myself." Cato grits his teeth.
"I didn't hear a cannon," Clove argues. "As exciting as it'll be, I don't want to have to track her down twice."
"Let's just go back," Tamara suggests.
"You go back," Glimmer snaps, crossing her arms. "It's quite a distance already."
"I'll come with you," I tell Tamara. There's enough bitchiness in this group. It needs a little benevolence.
"Oh, fuck it. You guys go on." Cato nods to the others, his exasperation eminent. "I started it, I'll finish it."
The rest of the team start heading back to camp as Cato makes his way back to the girl. Meanwhile, I stand there like a lost child. I'm pretty sure he didn't include me on that order.
As if to confirm my skepticism, he halts and turns to me. "Well? Are you coming or what?"
Marvel actually stops jogging and gives me a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows. I roll my eyes at him, making him chuckle as he starts running again. Behind him, Glimmer throws me The Look, her green eyes glaring at me with a burning hatred. I would've returned it yet again, but for the audience's sake I stick my tongue out at her, turning my back and running up to Cato's side.
They want a good show out of me? I'll give them the best show they'll ever see.
A/N: Sooo... Comments? Questions? Suggestions? Violent reactions? Click that little blue button and let me know! =)