Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games nor ... I can't seem to find where the chapter title came from. Odd...
A/n: I have just done a 3 hour mock which went awfully. Hence why I'm uploading this. Please, I hope you enjoy! (Also, the next update may be very long as my exams begin in under 2 weeks)
8) For Every Promise is a Price Unpaid
It hurts to move. This is the first thing I think when I open my eyes. The second thing is surprise that I'm alive: the last thing I remember doing is falling off a cliff, something which has a horrible tendency to be fatal. This causes me to wonder if I'm dead. Since I've never been dead before, I can't be sure what it feels like ... but I've spent seventeen years being alive so I know what that feels like and this feels really similar.
For the next minute, I try to move my arms and legs. By the end of it, I decide that I'm probably alive. If I'm wrong, there's nothing to worry about: the worst will have already happened.
Satisfied at this conclusion, I attempt to stand up. This doesn't work out quite the way I planned – when I get onto my feet, my legs buckle and I crash towards the floor again. My head is aching and I feel something wet trickle down my leg. I glance at it. I've got a lot of holes in my clothing. More importantly a nasty-looking cut has re-opened and is bleeding heavily. Can't really do much about that in this position.
I see a nearby log and swing my right arm onto it. I pull myself up slowly and then collapse onto the log. I'm making a lot of noise. If anyone wanted to kill me, they could easily find me and do it: it's not as though I'm in a position to object (or even to sit up). But I've survived death once today so maybe luck is with me for once (this is assuming, of course, that I'm right and I'm not dead. By now, I'm pretty sure I'm right though).
I look upwards and see that the cliff face actually slopes quite gently towards the bottom. There are ledges and tree branches poking out. In fact, I can see the ledge from here. It's not as high up as I thought it was but it looks like it was quite a fall. From what I remember, I think the branches and ledges slowed my fall – otherwise I would have broken my back.
Now that I've thought about that, I realise that I actually really hurt. I take a look at my injuries. Amazingly, apart from three fingers on my left hand, I have no broken bones. The back of my head is sticky with blood though and I have a deep gash on my right arm. My legs are slashed up. I'm covered in bruises. It could be a lot worse but I'm not sure how far I'm going to get in this condition. And it really, really hurts.
"Any chance of some help, Apa?" I croak. My throat is dry and I don't have the energy to speak louder. After a minute, a package lands. I carefully tear it open. Plasters. A very small box of cheap plasters. I guess I'm not a popular tribute. As if I didn't know that already.
Still, they're all I have and there's no point thinking about what I don't have so I get to work. After half an hour, my broken fingers are now plastered to some twigs I found nearby and I have bitten my way through several pieces of bark to stop myself from screaming. I also have plasters on my arms and legs, though not my back because I've never been good at contortionism at the best of times; the idea of doing it now makes me want to cry.
I still have the knife but not the water bottle. This reminds me of my thirst but I can't summon up the energy to leave. But it's a choice between staying here and letting the first person who comes along kill me or moving and ... letting the first person who comes along kill me standing up. Well, maybe I can hide.
It takes me a few attempts before I can stand up and walk. Climbing over the log is too much so I hobble around it. I hope the cameras aren't looking at me now because I don't look like a Hunger Games Winner. I feel like a Hunger Games parody.
As I hobble, I try to calculate how long I was unconscious for. It seems to be getting dark and it was mid-afternoon when I fell. But, somehow, I doubt it's only been a few hours – I'm covered in grass and there's too much dried blood on me. I'm thirsty and hungry but not enough to suggest days and days of being asleep.
I stop when the anthem begins to play. I'm not really in a condition to keep going anyway although my legs have gotten a bit better. I've changed plasters a few times. I need to find a stream at some point and wash out my wounds although none of them look infected (thankfully). But I can't see much.
An image appears in the sky: the smiling face of the boy from District 7. At least ten people have died then. If I ignore the six maniacal tributes for now and take out Mattis and me, that means there are at least six tributes wandering the arena who I don't know about. Then I realise I've assumed Mattis, Gloss and the other tributes are still alive. I decide to rethink this.
I know there must be at least one other tribute in the arena because I haven't won anything. I know I haven't been asleep for too long so that means there can't have been many deaths. I know there are up to thirteen more tributes in the arena but that doesn't matter. I don't need to know how many there are; just how many are near me and who they are. That being said, if I knew how many tributes were left, I could work out how likely it is that any of them are near me. But since I don't know any of this, I decide that the best thing to do would be to hide until morning and then look for water.
I hobble in the direction of the cliff face and stop in the long grass. As hiding places go, this is pretty crap. But since I can't climb a tree or see a cave or camouflage myself well, it'll have to do. Luck's been with me so far – it may hold out until the morning. If not then I guess I'll get a shock when I wake up. Again.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Despite the fact that I haven't been awake for long, I fall asleep quickly and wake up again just after the sun has risen (not particularly shocked so I'm probably not dead). My head is still pounding but I think it's more to do with thirst than the injury on the back of it. Alternatively, it could be a combination of both. When I stand up, the world spins around me and I have to hold onto the cliff for support. Sponsors are probably not lining up to show their support for me after this performance. Briefly, I wonder what my family are thinking as they watch me but I focus on the arena immediately because thinking about my family hurts.
I spot some edible berries growing at the bottom of the cliff and grab them. They taste surprisingly good and quench my thirst, slightly. I wonder if there's a water source nearby but, since this is an artificial environment created by the Gamemakers, I can't assume so. I should probably just be thankful that the berries aren't walking mutants.
Finally, I leave, deciding to walk in a straight line. The forest just seems to keep going though after a while, it curves upwards. I'm not sure how big the forest is though because I'm walking slower than a snail. Literally – I've been keeping my eye on a nearby yellow-shelled snail who has been ahead of me for at least ten minutes.
To stop my depression at being out-paced by a snail, I try to map out the arena, or what I know of it, in my head. It's a mass of hills but I think they're centred around one giant mountain as several "levels". The caves I passed with Mattis didn't seem to go far in. But, frankly, I don't really have a clue how this arena works. I'm not even sure where I am.
It occurs to me that if Mattis is alive, he must know I'm alive. Whether he'll look for me though is another matter entirely. After all, he didn't manage to save me and neither of us knew whether we really trusted the other. So I should probably assume I'm on my own now for the rest of the Games.
Well, until someone comes along and kills me anyway.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"OK, OK, let's say Kiril is sane. Does that mean the rest of us are insane?" a male voice says, catching my attention as I limp along at about midday (I have mastered limping faster. I left the snail behind two hours ago). I look around and spot two figures moving through the trees to my right. I swear under my breath.
"If Kiril is sane, I don't want to be sane," another male replies. I jerk in surprise. Gloss. Then I relay the conversation though my head – Kiril is the name of the psychopathic tribute from District 2 who wants to kill me. I must be near that group.
Well, this is just great. Let's review the last week and a half or so. I get called for the Hunger Games, get hardly any sponsors, argue with my mentor, get put on a psychopath's kill list, fall off a cliff and now I've run into the most dangerous group of tributes in the arena. Whatever I was saying about luck has clearly been misplaced. I have a feeling I must be the humour value for the viewers in the Capitol.
"Fair point," the first person concedes. This must be Theodore from District 4 then. "So why is he in charge?"
"Give the kid his toy," Gloss answers. "At least the girls are with him and he's not with us."
I breathe a sigh of relief. It's only two of them. But I still need to hide. I look around and decide to crouch behind a particularly big tree. This is not a brilliant plan but I don't have time for a better one.
"Savannah's not too bad. Or Loren."
"Savannah never says anything and you're just comparing Loren to Kiril. I notice you didn't mention Quartz."
The voices are coming closer. I hold my knife. At the very least, I can really hurt one of their legs. (Let's be honest, I'm not going to do much better than that).
"I wonder why. Come on, mate, do you see any food?"
"Nope. Do you see any tributes?"
"No."
I look around. I can't see them. So they (probably) can't see me.
"We're probably making too much noise," District 4 says.
"Yeah..." I hear Gloss' voice trail off and I look around. He's staring straight at me. I try to curl up tighter. "Teo, how about we split up? You go that way and I'll go this way. We'll stop talking to each other that way."
"Alright," I hear the other boy answer cheerfully. "See you back here in about half hour?"
"Sure."
I hear footsteps as Teo leaves. Gloss walks over to me.
"District 5, stand up."
"Make me," I croak. An arm roughly grabs me and I'm hauled up. "Ouch, OK, I got it," I say. "I'm up!"
We look at each other. His face is still handsome and he still looks amused but his eyes are haunted. Whatever's been going on for the last few days has taken its toll on him. That being said, he looks as though he's in a better condition than me. His sword is pointed at my chest.
"We're hunting," he says quietly – almost too quietly for me to hear. "That means you've been found."
"You could make it more fun and let me go," I suggest. "Or I could help you?"
"How?"
"Information?" He looks sceptical. I continue anyway. "I can tell you how to survive a cliff fall?"
He barks a short laugh. "Is that what happened to you?"
"Yes." He laughs again. "How about ... those berries, over there." I point to the berries which I've just been curled up with. "They look like the bitter ones in training. They're poisonous – see the mark on the side?"
"I don't need to eat berries," he informs me.
"Yet. But they're growing all over the place and if you were hungry enough..."
"I haven't forgotten what you did for me in the Training Centre," he says, cutting me off. His face is suddenly impassive. "And I'm a man of my word. I'll let you go, just this one time. I never want to see you again. If I do, I'll kill you."
"Thank you," I say. I can't think of anything else to say. He's making this up. I wonder whether anyone else can see he's lying.
"If I were you, I'd run for it." He looks me up and down. "If you can even run."
"Don't be so fricking rude," I answer.
"You're brave," he comments and I remember that I am supposed to be snivellingly grateful to him for letting me live.
And I should be grateful anyway. Considering how we parted. Considering he wants to go home. Considering he owes me nothing.
"Sorry ... I'll go..." He turns away so I turn and try to jog off. I settle for a swift limp. But when I hear him walk away, I decide it'd be more productive to follow him and Teo instead. Especially since I'm still thirsty. So I turn around and slowly limp back, hiding behind trees until I see the two boys meet.
"Find anything?" Gloss asks.
"No. You?"
"No ... crap." I resist the urge to look around the tree at them.
"What?" Teo sounds startled.
"My pack – the one with the water and medicine in it – it's gone."
"Gone? We can find it, come on."
"No, we told psycho boy we'd be back before mid-afternoon. I'll pick up more stuff there. It was only antiseptic, water and some food anyway. Besides, I had it when I left you so it must be around here somewhere. Maybe we'll find it some other time. Come on."
I don't move until I can't hear their footsteps any longer. Gloss lost his pack? I think about this and realise he had a small pack on his back when he was talking to me. But when did he lose it? I try to think if I saw him drop it anywhere. Then I remember – he fell over about twenty metres behind where I am now. I go to the area and find it in the roots of a tree. Very neat, for someone who was losing it...
I open it and discover a bottle of water, a tube of antiseptic and a few packets of dried food. I gulp down half the water, eat two of the packets and apply the cream to some of the worse wounds. Gloss may have just saved my life. And he didn't even realise he was doing it.
As I put the pack on my back, I start wondering about this entire scene. Why did Gloss let me go? It must have looked strange on the cameras until he lied about repaying me a favour. But he obviously had a reason...
"And would you kill me, Gloss?"
"I don't ... I ... maybe? Not if I don't have to."
Our last conversation replays through my head several times before I make it connect. Gloss is a man of his word, it seems. He said he wouldn't kill me if he didn't have to. He let me go. So he doesn't want to kill me and he keeps his promises. Not that my own wishes will ever be fulfilled – the Hunger Games are not known for their ability to produce relationships due to the need for one party to the relationship to die – but it seems I have an ally of sorts.
Except he also swore to kill me if he sees me again. And since he never specified what I did for him and we were watched in the Training Centre, some of the officials must know he was lying. Which means we might be in more danger now than we were before.
Well, there's a limit to how much danger someone can be in. His promise has put me in danger but I'd have been in just as much danger without it, I think. Every promise made is a price unpaid, or so they say, and the price here is my life. Just as I would have been without the promise. While I don't think I've reached the danger limit, even with Gloss' oath, I've definitely reached the limit of how much you need to be in to be scared.
I consider the pack again. He let me go and he also knows I fell off a cliff. If he has so many supplies back at their base camp, it wouldn't matter to him if he lost some. And it's not the easiest thing to lose. And he was speaking pretty loudly when he was telling Theodore about it. With a groan of frustration, the obvious hits me: Gloss knew I was following him. He planted the bag so I'd find it and not die. I owe Gloss my life. Twice.
It could be argued that at this point, I should have some sort of inner conflict about keeping my pride and doing this by myself. People with pride tend to be the sort of idiots who would refuse water if they were dying of thirst or who run into a fight to prove a point i.e. the sort who die. I'm not going to do that. I'll just have to repay him at some point. If I ever get the chance, I'll save his life. Twice. That will make us even.
I've been steadily walking uphill for the last few hours and I'm now on a path. I head right. If my calculations are correct (and judging from the constant dizziness, I doubt it), the cliff I fell off must have been somewhere to my left. Mattis went to the right. So I should head this way. Again, assuming he isn't dead. Gloss didn't mention anything about it so it either means Mattis is alive or Gloss thinks that I know he's dead. In other words, I have no way of knowing.
I don't like this "not knowing". I only feel safe when I know things for sure. I shiver at this and keep walking. It's like the Gamemakers knew my weakness before I started and are determined to make me suffer.
But I'm not dead. As long as I repeat that, I know I'm winning. Right?
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I hear metal scraping. It catches my attention and I head towards the noise. Then I stop. This is not a sound which suggests "safe". I listen again and realise that there are also panicked mutterings of some kind. I decide to advance slowly, holding my knife.
The noise takes me into one of the small cave entrances. I don't have a torch but in the gloom, I see a girl sitting on the floor. She shouts in panic and twists when she hears me.
"Don't kill me!" she shrieks.
"Shut up then," I snap back, momentarily stunned by the frequency of her voice. She's immediately silent. I study her more carefully – her leg is caught in some kind of trap. "Are you stuck?" I ask.
"Y-yes." Her voice is calmer but I can hear the panic. She's trying not to shout now but she's obviously terrified.
I look at my hands. I must look threatening. This is the perfect opportunity, after all: she can't move and I have a knife. If I kill her, I'll have a kill under my name. That might lead to more sponsors. And there'd be one less tribute in the arena. My chances of survival will go up.
I look at her again. It would be startlingly easy to kill her, I realise. Just stab the knife into her until he's dead. She's half-expecting it anyway. I can tell from her slumped form: she isn't expecting to live. After all, these are the Hunger Games. To win, you have to kill. And people die all the time so it's not even that traumatic.
It would be so easy. There's no disadvantage at all...
I grab her and stick the knife into the trap. It takes all of my strength – especially considering I'm one-handed – but I manage to undo the catch with the blade. As soon as she's free, the girl falls backwards, gasping. I stand up, still holding the knife out.
"You ... let me go?" the girl says incredulously.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Why does it matter?" I ask her. "You're not dead, that's all you need to know, right?"
She stands up, limps over to me and holds out a hand. "I'm Lela, from District 6," she says. "And I owe you my life."
"I'm Anfisa from District 5 and I don't accept it," I reply. "If I wanted your life, I'd have killed you. I didn't so you can keep it."
To my surprise, she grins. "OK then. I owe you a favour instead. Since you did me a favour."
"Fine," I say.
We look at each other for a few seconds. I don't know what to do now. This is probably why most people pay attention to the point of the Hunger Games and actually kill their opponents – they don't have any awkward situations to face afterwards.
"I think we should leave," she says eventually. "Someone will come to check the trap. But if we walk for a bit, there might be a place to rest up. I've got a bird I stole from the bigger tributes in my bag – I'll share it. And tie your fingers up properly."
"Thanks," I mutter, still unsure what else I can say to her. I'm not even sure why we're a team now. But I walk with her until we've reached an inlet I wouldn't have seen if she hadn't pointed it out. We decide to leave cooking the bird until morning though, true to her word, she bandages my fingers properly. Then she offers to take first watch. I don't know if I trust her but I decide to leave it. She seems genuine enough to me – talkative but I'm not in the mood so she's quiet. I lie down.
When she wakes me for the second watch – apparently, she's not going to kill me either – I find myself considering the question I should have been asking myself for a while. Why didn't I kill her? Logically, I should have. There was no advantage in keeping her alive. I knew that.
But the truth is that when it came to it, I couldn't just take her life. Not in cold blood like that. This comes as a surprise to me as I always thought that if I were in the Games, I would kill because I would have to.
Perhaps the problem is, I don't have to kill her. The only rule in the Hunger Games is that you must be the last person alive. There is nothing that says you have to kill every person you find – it's just advisable. Logically speaking, it must be possible to win by only killing the last person – and possibly even without killing anyone. So why should I kill her? It isn't necessary.
But the problem is that people aren't logical and the audience will be angry at me for ignoring this opportunity. I tell myself I don't care. They don't support me anyway so I can do what I want. And I don't have to kill.
I just can't get rid of the nagging feeling that killing and winning are linked for a reason.