The sound of a cannon jolted Chester awake. He crawled outside to see that it wasn't yet completely dark. Chester and Willow had turned in early. There wasn't much for them to do other than clear the snow away from their tent and eat sparingly from their dwindling sponsor food. Before twilight had fallen the allies had turned in for the night, zipping up their tent and snuggling up together to keep warm.
The Capitol anthem began to play. Chester looked back at Willow. She was still snoring softly, her chest rising and falling gently. He decided not to wake her. He closed up the tent and stood in the snow, which was halfway up his shins again already. The music died down and Chester watched as the first picture flickered into view. It was Skye Douglass, the girl from District 4. Her face faded from the dark sky to be replaced by the District 6 boy, Craig West. Last was Marshall Reed, the District 10 male.
Marshall's image faded and was replaced by the Capitol insignia, which shone for a moment before the music ended and the sign disappeared and Chester was left alone in the darkness. He bit his lip, thinking. He could clearly remember Skye and Marshall spending every possible second together before the Games began. Additionally, he remembered the two of them running from the Cornucopia with Craig.
So what could have wiped out an entire alliance?
Still thinking, Chester unzipped the tent and crawled inside. He didn't want to wake up Willow, but it was too cold and snowy outside to stay there. The heat difference was hardly noticeable, but the tent did retain some warmth. Chester curled up in a corner and wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging them close to him.
No matter how secure he felt in his tent with Willow, he could die at any moment. He was in this arena to die. That was that. He knew that he'd never make it out alive. A part of him always knew that, even if other parts were hoping that it wasn't true. Every moment he was alive was a moment he could have died. It was unpredictable. It was inevitable.
So what did kill Craig, Skye, and Marshall? Chester could remember a cannon earlier in the day, which means they didn't all die at once. Could they still have died the same way? Did they get killed by other tributes? Muttations? The cold? Poison berries, like Apollo? Or was it something else? The worry ate away at him, driving him deeper and deeper into his paranoia. Outside, a branch snapped and crashed to the ground, the weight of the snow on its leaves finally being too much to bear. Chester jumped and his heartbeat spiked. He settled back down, listening to the hammering in his chest.
He didn't want to sit still anymore, but at the same time he couldn't stand the thought of going outside alone in the middle of the snowy night. He crawled over to their stash of supplies and took out the bowl of stew. It was still faintly warm, but soon enough it'd be the same temperature as everything else: frigid. With slightly shaking hands, he screwed off the top and ate a spoonful. He savored the heat in his esophagus as it trickled down into his stomach. It was unfair to Willow to be eating without her, but a selfish part of Chester didn't care. He scooped up another spoonful and ate it. His stomach had been rumbling since they entered the arena, and the few bites of food did little to satisfy him.
After one more mouthful he stopped himself. He tucked the spoon into its container under the lid and twisted the cap on, tightening it as much as he could to lock in the heat. He placed the soup back on their supply pile. He then curled up in the corner and sat, unsure of what to do. He had hardly slept and yet he didn't feel tired. He just stared at the opposite wall of the tent, brooding.
He missed his parents. He was their only child. He didn't want to die on them. They were only in their late thirties and could probably have another kid if they wanted to, but his heart wrenched as he thought of them replacing him. He hugged his knees close to his chest, blinking away tears. He wanted to go home. He wanted to grow up and have a family and he didn't want to die on his parents and he didn't want his parents to die. He wanted to have never been reaped in the first place, more than anything he had ever wanted before.
And then there was Willow. Chester hadn't known her for very long, sure, but he would do anything for her. And if it came to it, he'd kill himself so that Willow could return home a victor. As much as he didn't want to hurt his parents, he wanted her to be happy. She had to put up with so much already. Her father was distant, leaving her to care for her three younger sisters. And her sisters didn't make it easy, always complaining and being rude. Willow deserved so much better, but instead she was reaped into the Hunger Games.
Chester knew life wasn't fair, but he wished he could make it just a little better for Willow. It was the least he could do.
He thought back to his last moments with his parents. He didn't say anything to them, trying to hold in the tears. He just stood there, like an idiot. He couldn't remember what his last words to them were. Probably something stupid like, "See you after the Reaping."
"Don't let them beat you. You're smart. Don't forget that. You can outsmart them. I know you can."
The words of his father echoed around in his head. Knowing that he had his father's support was comforting, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to believe him. He wasn't anything special. He was a scrawny fourteen-year-old boy. He was a little bit smart, but he hardly thought it would be enough to get him out of the Arena.
He was a dead man walking.
It was still snowing outside. Chester wondered if it would ever let up. He imagined the snow piling up and piling up and burying the tent. The weight of the flakes would cause the roof to collapse in and he and Willow would eventually be crushed. And Willow wouldn't feel a thing because she's asleep and Chester wouldn't wake her and with any luck she would stay asleep and Chester could lie next to her. She'd die painlessly. He'd be in a lot of pain, but he'd be with her.
Shaking his head, Chester did his best to push the idea of death from his mind. It was hard, knowing that the end was dreadfully near. He focused on his breathing, evening out his breaths and thinking of nothing but the smooth pattern. He filled his lungs with air and exhaled slowly and softly. The steady rhythm calmed him. He closed his eyes, his entire mind fixed on in out in out in out.
In the darkness Willow stirred. Chester opened his eyes and watched her. She rolled over onto her stomach with a small groan, nestling her head in the crook of her right arm. She then flipped back over and sat bolt upright, as though she suddenly remembered where she was. "What time is it?" she asked groggily, wiping at her tired eyes.
"I dunno," Chester replied with a shrug. "It wasn't even midnight when I got up. I don't know how long it's been."
Willow crawled over to the entrance and unzipped the tent a bit. "It's pretty dark," she observed. "Though I guess we wouldn't be able to see the sun, anyway." Chester nodded. "So," she continued, sitting back on her heels. "Did anything interesting happen while I was asleep?"
"They showed the pictures of the dead."
"So who was the cannon earlier in the day?"
Chester bit his lip. "I don't know. There were three people."
"But there was only one cannon."
"The other two woke me up," he answered. "At any rate, it was Craig, Marshall, and Skye."
Even though it was dark, Chester could see Willow's face pale. "Weren't…weren't they all an alliance?" she asked tentatively. Chester nodded slowly. "I wish we knew what killed them," Willow said quietly. "I want to be prepared. I just want to know what we're up against. I feel like we're just waiting to get killed."
A silence followed. Chester stared down at his hands, mulling over an idea. After a few minutes, he looked up. "So maybe we should stay on the move, then." He glanced up at Willow. "It's better than sitting around here. It will give us something to do."
Willow chewed on the inside of her lip, looking at Chester with her wide blue eyes. "I…I don't know. We could be walking right into a trap…"
"Or we could be walking away from one."
She shrugged. Chester closed the distance between them and placed his hands on each of her shoulders. "I'm not going to pressure you into anything. Whatever you want. Okay?" Willow nodded weakly. She leaned forward slightly and pecked him on the lips.
"You're right," she said. "We should keep going. It's better."
"We leave at dawn!" Chester joked with a grin. Willow smiled and pulled him close to her, kissing him again.
AN: Oops it's been a while again. Sorry this chapter is pretty short. I'm trying my best to finish by August 30th. xx