Willow and Chester trudged through the snow, bent slightly forward at the effort of dragging themselves through the deep drifts. Their packs appeared to get heavier and heavier as their legs weakened. They had divided their supplies among them evenly. Chester was carrying the tent despite Willow's repeated offers to trade it off every hour or so. Apollo's pack had been left behind, empty, at their last campsite.
The two had decided to go north. There wasn't any real thought behind the direction, they just needed a place to go and that was the first thing they could think of. They hadn't seen any other tributes since the bloodbath, and they had no idea whether they were walking into danger or not. They had been walking all day, and they were nearing the small mountain range that dominated the northern part of the arena.
"How much longer are we going to walk for?" Willow asked, her voice muffled because she had pulled the collar of her jacket up over her nose.
Chester stopped, turning to face her. "Uh, I don't know," he admitted, scratching the back of his head aimlessly. "I figured until it gets dark."
"Maybe we should stop now," Willow suggested, "so there's light to see by when we set up camp."
"Good idea," Chester agreed.
Looking around, they were still surrounded by forest, as they had been all day, but the trees had thinned slightly from where they had spent the past few nights. Willow could clearly see the mountains looming closer with every step. For the most part the trees were spaced out rather evenly, but there were some clumps. Willow pointed to a group of three trees that slightly sheltered the ground between them. Their leaves blocked out much of the snow, and they were bent heavily over the triangle of land. "Maybe there?" she suggested.
In response, Chester waded his way through the snow over to the spot she had indicated. He placed both his hands on a thin branch and shoved down, snapping it clean off. He then slid his pack off of his back and hooked it up. Willow followed after him, watching as he began to clear the snow away from where they would pitch the tent. They'd gotten quite good at the job, and soon they had cleared the foot of snow away, leaving a circle of exposed ground ten feet in diameter.
Together, they pitched the tent near the edge, leaving plenty of space to build a fire. The branches and leaves above had created a fairly solid roof, and unless it collapsed, their fire would be fairly safe from the snow. They figured it would be hard to see the fire and smoke with the weather conditions, and frankly they needed the warmth. They began to break the driest branches they could find from the trees near them. Willow was numb all over, but the promise of a fire kept her going.
A woosh sound distracted the girl from District 12 and her head snapped up, searching for the source among the sea of white. "Chester," she said softly. She didn't dare peel her eyes from the sky. He didn't hear her. She wanted to look to see where he was, but her head was frozen in place. "Chester," she repeated, slightly louder. Another woosh.
More panicked this time. "Chester!"
"What is it?"
"There…there's something up there."
She could hear his footsteps coming her way. She still couldn't tear her gaze away from the sky. She blinked wildly as a snowflake perched itself on one if her eyes. Chester stopped beside her. "What is it?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know," Willow told him, and edge of a sob creeping into her voice. She didn't like the uncertainty. She could feel that this…this thing was going to swoop down and kill them both. This was the end. She reached out her right hand and grasped for Chester's hand. He slipped his fingers into the spaces between hers and squeezed her hand gently. She squeezed back, refusing to loosen her grip. The end, the end, the end, it's the end.
Woosh.
Her eyes caught hold of a dark shadow as it sped over her head. "Did you see that?" she asked frantically, finally looking at Chester. He nodded.
"What do you think it is?" he asked.
She shrugged, turning her head back to the sky. It flew back over them, the beating of its massive wings sending another thick blast of wind down. "Must be a muttation. Personally, I don't want to find out."
Chester let out a tiny laugh, though it was laced with nervous energy. "I guess it hasn't noticed us. Or maybe it's friendly?"
"A friendly muttation," Willow repeated. "Good one." She sounded harsher than she had meant, but she was too focused on the mystery animal to try and do anything about it. Chester hung his head and blushed.
"Dumb idea, I know."
Willow didn't reply for a while, still staring up at the sky that was now a velvety black. She was still holding tightly on to Chester's hand, and she loosened her grip slightly without letting go. They were alive. They could die in a matter of minutes, or maybe hours if they were lucky, but for now they were safe. They were alive. "I guess…I guess we probably shouldn't build a fire…" she suggested reluctantly. "It might draw that…that thing's attention…and…that probably wouldn't be a good idea."
"Yeah, you're probably right," Chester replied.
"I'm so cold, Chester."
He pressed up against her, giving her a rough peck on the cheek. "We should go inside," he told her, leading the way. She stumbled a bit at first, partly because she was startled and partly because her neck was craning to get one last look at the shadowed beast. Chester led her to the clearing and unzipped the tent. Just as he was ushering her inside the Capitol anthem began to play. Willow paled. "What's wrong?" Chester asked her, taking a couple wary steps backwards.
"What if it hears…what if it gets angry…?"
"Shhh," Chester soothed softly, slipping an arm around her waist. "It's okay. We're okay."
On command, the clouds were cleared away from a large patch of sky in order for the face of the one tribute that had died that day to be seen. Willow relished the view of the sky that had been shielded by clouds since the first night. The stars shone and winked just as they always had. Peeking out from the edge of the clouds was the moon, brilliantly white. A smile crept across her face at the sight. It was familiar. It was safe.
The anthem died out and Newt's face appeared in place of the Capitol insignia. The girl from District 8 looked thoroughly unhappy in her photograph, and Willow wondered if dying was even bad for her. Maybe she was happy to go. As Willow continued to think about it she began to imagine Newt dead, her bright green eyes staring blankly forward. She shook her head and shivered, turning to head back inside. She heard Chester follow after her. She slipped into the tent, lying on the floor with a moan.
"You okay?" she heard Chester ask, an edge of worry in his voice.
"Fine," she mumbled into the floor.
"You should eat," he continued, kneeling down by their packs and rooting around for their sponsor gift. Willow rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows. The fatigue of walking all day was beginning to set in and all she really wanted to do was sleep. She watched as Chester found the soup contained and uncorked the top. He frowned at the contents. "You should have all of it," he said. "There's hardly any left, and I had some while you were asleep last night."
She shook her head weakly. "We share," she said.
"There's not even two spoonfuls here," Chester protested. "Just take it. Please?"
"What was that?" Willow asked.
"I said—"
"Not what you said. Listen."
Chester opened his mouth, a quizzical expression on his face, then closed it. He set down the bowl of soup and unzipped the tent, stepping outside. Willow sat perfectly still, waiting for him to come back. She could hear his smile as he returned. "Another one! Another sponsor gift!" he proclaimed excitedly. "I think it's more soup."
Sitting down beside her, he popped open the container to reveal another thermos of soup and two rolls that were still warm. He grinned at Willow, passing her a roll. She tore it in half and held it up to her face, relishing the feel of the hot steam on her freezing cold skin.
"You don't look very happy," Chester observed as he chewed a bite of the bread.
"Wha—?" Willow asked, looking up.
"Something's on your mind. I can tell."
Willow blushed, though it was hard to tell since her cheeks were so red with cold. "I can't believe you know me so well even though we've known each other for such a short amount of time…but anyway…I was just thinking…well, why are we getting sponsor gifts?" she asked softly. "Why us? We're nothing special. We're not particularly strong or, let's face it, likely to win."
"You're forgetting something."
"What is it?"
"This is a TV show, Willow. It's not just about the Victor. The Capitol wants to be entertained, and there's more ways to be entertaining than just killing. They're suckers for romance. They get attached to relationships and will do anything to keep them alive, even though they know there can only be one Victor. My guess is that they're keeping us alive because they've fallen in love with the idea of us. And, I mean, I don't blame them. This could just be my opinion, but I think we're pretty cute."
She smiled. "Adorable."