Flashes of Gold

Chapter Four | Poisonous Ferns

It's windy. A rough breeze throws my hair back as I stand at the edge of the forest. I'm staring deeply into the thick green, face arranged in what has to be the most pitiful expression ever. My hand rests upon a branch that juts out into the path that the lumber workers take each day.

My dad is one of them. Erm...well, he was anyway. He's gone now, left early this morning. There was no note. Only a cold fireplace and his empty drawers. His hatchet, which usually stands by the door, has left as well. A symbol of safety, gone.

Tears are welling up in my eyes, but I can't close them and I can't look away. I'm waiting. I've been waiting since the morning, listening for the sound of his boots coming up the trail. He usually whistles and carries his axe over his shoulder. But there is no whistling, or any noise at all. Nothing, except the rushing sound of wind through the barren trees.

Calan snidely told me that she knew he'd do it all along. He'd been distant with the family lately. He came home later now, left earlier, and sometimes missed dinner. But every day I still brought his lunch during his lunch break, and every day we'd still climb up into the trees to eat it. And every day, he was still a father to me.

I stand there for hours, because every time I try to turn away, I think I hear the muffled sound of footsteps along the pine covered road. It's like nature is mocking me.

I swing the lunch bag around, wondering what to do with it. It's rations for two, and I could never eat as much as my father. Still, I can't bear to leave, so I guile myself into thinking that maybe he's waiting for me above in our special branch. When I climb up, though, he's not. No...but the branch isn't completely empty, either.

"What are you doing up here?" I rudely ask. I'm horrified that this special meeting place has been tempered with. This boy is certainly not my father, and he has no right to sit in my father's place...which he is, almost exactly where my father usually sits.

But he only gazes at me, brown eyes showing nothing, save for the slightest hint of aggravation at the tone of my voice. "I don't think I need a reason to be up here," he bite back, eyebrows furrowing. "It's not like you own the tree."

I do, I want to tell him. I own it because no one else ever comes up here. It's mine. But I only glower at him and sit down, not liking the thought of leaving.

"Is that food?" he wonders, eyeing the knotted clothe in my hands. I pull it into my lap and shoot him a glare. This is my father's meal, I want to say. But my words are stuck in my throat and I can't possibly say the word 'father' aloud. Not now, anyway.

He leans forward, but there's nothing dishonest about the way he looks at me. It's as if he wants to know why I haven't yet opened the lunch. Simple, unprovocative, but somehow it unnerves me.

He's silent for a whole minute. His brooding expression pulls me into a trance that I can't seem to get out of. I look around, trying to look as though I'm not paying him any attention. But my mind is only thinking about him, and wondering why he's got such a strange, intense look in his eyes.

Finally, he speaks. "I heard about your father." Oh. That's possibly why he's up here, but that doesn't really make sense. I've seen him around before, but I've never spoken to him. Perhaps he just comes up here later, after my father and I leave, and I just haven't noticed him before.

I'm thankful that he doesn't offer an apology about my father. He merely continues to look at me in that deep, powerful way. This time, I can't seem to look away.

Finally, I give up. A sigh escapes me and I toss the parcel of food at him, assuming it's what he wants. But he only raises a brow at me upon catching it. Regardless, he opens it slowly, as though the bundle was something special. It sort of was, at least to me.

But he doesn't eat like I thought he would. Instead, his eyes dart back up to mine and he sends me a soft, gentle sort of smile. "I'm Evon, by the way."

I can't help but smile the tiniest bit. "Wren Fey." And I catch the apple he tosses at me. As we begin to eat together, he begins to talk, and I begin to forget that he was sitting in my father's place, eating my father's food, and making me smile like only my father could.

I wake up feeling unsatisfied. Thoughts of Evon swirl around in my head. I sit, pressed against the tree trunk, 30 feet in the air, and can't even move. I suck in a deep breath, slowly open my eyes, and stare emptily at the sky through the little windows that the branches make.

I'm not sure how long it is until I finally start to move. All I know is that my body is sore and stiff from sleeping upright. I wheedle my arms out of my vest and fasten it tightly again. After making sure my bag is secured across my chest, I begin to stretch, loosening my muscles for the long journey that will be made.

The trees are huddled closer together the deeper I go into the forest, so it's easier to jump from branch to branch. My balance is impeccable – formed from learning to fence – so I drift along quickly, intent on reaching the mountain by nightfall.

Unfortunately, I have to stop several times during the afternoon. My stomach is raging, so I'm forced to take out the pine needles again. It's not enough, though, so I take a few small nibbles of cheese and pop a few berries into my mouth. I'm loathe to eat any more of my precious food, and I soon put it back so as to not be tempted to do so.

The second time I stop, it's because my gut is telling me that something is off. I do feel strange, actually. I pause to peer around me, wondering if I'm being followed. Crouching against the tree trunk, I catch my breath and think.

I haven't seen anyone since the Bloodbath, yesterday afternoon. Surely that means that the Careers have already formed their pack and are coming after the remaining tributes. But then...I look at the mountain, a brooding look in my eyes. The other tributes didn't have burly clothes on. Like me, most have either vests or jackets – not enough to keep warm during the night. So that means that, if the other tributes are smart, they'd be making their way to the mountain just like me, searching for some form of shelter. Caves.

Hmm. So that probably means that the Careers are chasing them – us – forward, and plan on weeding us out at the mountain.

My gut is telling me that this is true. That, even though I'm not leaving any footprints behind, the Careers are probably going this way anyway. And it's hard, hiding in pine trees. Because these ones don't grow much taller than 30 feet, and they don't give much of a hiding place.

It's blatantly obvious how vulnerable I am. I have no way of protecting myself. If I run into any other tribute, even non-Careers, there's a good chance that I could die. The gravity of the situation hits me like a ton of bricks, and only intensifies when I hear my labored breathing. Labored, as though I'm heavily injured – and then I see her. That's not my breathing at all. It's the girl from district 4, leaning against a tree and clutching onto her stomach, which is bleeding profusely.

She panting heavily at the strain of walking. When I glance behind her, I see the trail she's left. It's a mess. The snow has been kicked up and branches have been snapped. It's so obvious that she came here.

She hasn't seen me yet, so I go over a quick plan of action. I have no medicine the could heal her, and even if I did, I wouldn't waste it on her. She looks about ready to pass out.

I wonder if I'm ready to kill her. Because that's what I must do, I tell myself. I can see the dagger she's got on her belt. It has my name written all over it.

I watch her for a while, waiting for her to close her eyes. It's takes time – time that I'm afraid I don't have – but finally, she settles down at the base of a nearby tree and leans her head against it, seemingly dead to the world.

Not dead enough, though. When I finally reveal myself and climb down from the tree, I find that she isn't all that dead after all. Her eyes snap open and her fingers grip the dagger, holding it over her as she scrambles onto her knees. I can see the effort it takes for her to move, and I hold my hands up to show I'm not armed.

"Relax," I say, trying to sound calm. "I'm not gonna kill you. I don't even have a weapon." Yet, I think.

She visibly relaxes, because we both know that even though I'm weaponless, it would be easy to strike her down. With that wound, it's surprising she can move at all.

I push the snow away with my feet and sit down on the frozen ground. We stare at each other for a while, as though testing the waters of our trust. There really isn't any, but I pretend as though that isn't true. Leaning forward, I pull my bag into my lap and open it.

She tenses, but I merely pull out my water bottle. I pack snow into it and the remaining water melts it down. I offer it to her, but she shakes her head. I put it back into my pack and gesture to her wound, "Careers got to you?"

She shakes her head. When she speaks, she sounds breathless, "Mutts. Big snowy bears. I managed to escape into a tree, but..." But she got mauled before she could, I think. I didn't even consider the possibility of mutts, but of course it makes sense. The Gamemakers always have something up their sleeve.

I vaguely wonder if the camera is on us right now. The audience is wondering if I'll kill this girl. I will, but in my own way. Tilting my head, I wonder, "Are you hungry?"

I haven't gained her trust yet, and she gives me a sharp look. But her hunger seems to be more important than trust, because she nods her head. I stand up, nodding, and take my pack with me, "I'll go see if I can find some food." By food, I mean plants. I walk a little ways away, feeling good to be using my legs and not hopping around above. It's about time I do so, too, because I need to find food for myself as well. I'm not able to get much, but I load up on what I can, stuffing my bag with edible plants. When I find some of that poisonous fern, I grab that, too, eyeing it with a smirk. District 4. Fishing. She won't know what hit her.

When I get back, she's attempting to build a fire. But she's using all the wrong wood. Dark smoke will come out of that, which will give away our location in a heartbeat. I stop her, sounding a little panicked, and build a fire using wood from a nearby tree, which will smoke very little.

I show her what I could get and can't help but notice her aggravation at the slim pickings. Raising my eyebrows at her, I think how silly she's acting. Here she is, about to die, and she's complaining about the food.

I say nothing, though, and instead strip some pine needles off a branch and soak them in snow, which I put in a tin can that she supplies and put it over the fire. I pull at the fern, pretending that it's as edible as the rest, and soak that, too. Then, I hand her some of the other plants, watching as she eats in dainty bites.

Even though it's rather nice, sitting before a fire like this, I feel vulnerable out in the open. The faster this girl dies, the better. I'm intent on reaching the mountain, because even though the Careers are heading that way too, I know it's the only way I can survive.

When the snow had melted and is hot, I pull the can out and quickly put it in the snow, allowing it to cool. I weed out the pine needles and the fern, throw them away, and say, "It's tea. Feel free to have it."

She's been studying me for a while now, in a rather unnerving manner, but I don't care. If she doesn't want the tea, I'll find a different way to kill her. A bash over the head, or maybe I'll wait till she's asleep, and then take her dagger and plunge it into her chest. My thoughts disgust me, though, so I try to turn them to other things.

A minute goes by and still she hasn't touched the tea. Finally, it seems that she doesn't care anymore. She reaches out for it, tentatively makes sure she won't burn her fingers on the tin, and brings it to her lips.

I try not to stare as she drinks it, because I don't want to give it away. If she finds out I poisoned it, it might not work. So instead, I focus on coaxing the fire hotter, warming my hands above it. It works. She isn't suspicious at all, and downs the entire tea as though she was dying of thirst.

I know it'll take a while before the poison kicks in, so I keep playing with the fire, glancing up at her every now and then. She keeps staring at me, distrust blatant in her gaze. I don't understand why she still distrusts me after eating and drinking what I gave her, but I suppose it has something to do with my countenance. My brooding expression doesn't gain a whole lot of trust, even in my district. I remain unsurprised.

"Why are you helping me," she suddenly asks, gaze narrowed. We both know she's injured. She won't last much longer, even if I hadn't feed her poison. We both know that I plan on taking her things once she's dead.

So I don't bother lying, because it's rather pointless. I shrug, flicking my eyes up to hers. "I need a weapon." And also, I think, I've been wanting to kill you since I saw you in your Interview, acting all giddy and stupid.

My response doesn't seem to faze her, because she was probably anticipating it. She nods, keeps staring at me, and says, "I only have a dagger. There's no food in my backpack. The jacket's warm, though."

I wonder why she bothers to tell me this. Raising a brow, I murmur, "Alright." After a few minutes of silence, I see her eyes shift and know that the poison is finally kicking in. I decide to question her a bit. "The Careers – do you know how many there are?"

She shrugs and leans her head back. "Four, I think. District 1 has both tributes. There's one from District 2 and one from District 4." She swallows thickly as she says her own district, and then shifts her eyes to mine. There's something in her gaze that is honest, and I feel as though she's looking right through me.

Shakily, she wonders, "Do you really have no family or friends, or were you just saying that?"

The cameras are on us now, I think. There's no way they'd miss this bit of gossip. I stare at her for a long while, feeling the seconds roll by. When I respond, I do so in a quiet voice. "I have a mother and a sister." I don't mention Evon. I can't bear to say his name.

She nods, closing her eyes, "Then why...?" She trails off, but I know what she's asking.

I look into the fire, losing myself in the flames, "My sister is evil reincarnated, but no one sees it but me. My mother hasn't really looked at me since father left, because I look and act so much like him." They're not my family, I want to scream.

She nods again, smiling a bit, and reveals, "My father is gone, too. Drown a few years back. Life hasn't been quite the same..."

We share a look, and I suddenly feel connected to her. Guilt crawls at my chest, winding around my heart. I shouldn't have poisoned her, I think. She's so much like me...

But it's far too late. The poison is clearly taking her. Her eyes are closing, parts of her body spasms, and her breath is coming out in shallow pants. "I'm sorry."

She looks up at me, confused, and I continued, resting my chin on my hand as I stare intently at her. "I've poisoned you, you see. I'm beginning to wish I hadn't."

Her reaction isn't what I had anticipated. She stares right back, and then shrugs, seemingly indifferent. Softly, she whispers, "That's alright. I'd soon be dead anyway."

I watch as she drifts off into a poison-induced death. Before she goes under, she breathes, "...Make sure...you take my jacket...and...dagger..." And then, all is quiet. The silence is broken only by the sound of a canon blasting through the evening air.

Thank you so much for the reviews! They definitely give me more incentive to keep the story up :)

This is the last chapter I've got at the moment, and it might be a few days before I can update again cause I have to figure out where Wren's gonna go from here :3 Review if ya feel like it~