Today, I don't hunt. I took plenty of food from the Cornucopia. It'll last us for a while.
We don't talk for a long time. It's not that we have nothing to say, we have so much to say. It's that we cannot. It is heavy, the weight of the flowers you pick to say farewell to a child.
We eat some dried pears and nuts once it gets dark. The fallen are projected onto the sky. Rahne, who slept on my shoulder yesterday, is up there today.
We climb on a tree nearby when it's time to sleep. We climb high and settle into my sleeping bag. Emma doesn't have a sleeping bag, and even if she did, we'd still share one. It's better for the show. And… I don't think I want to sleep alone tonight.
I wrap some rope around the sleeping bag to secure us. We settle inside. I wrap my arm around her and she places her head on top of my chest. I place a kiss on the top of her head. We do these things out of instinct now. It has become like finding food or water, it's vital to our survival. Our 'love' is our shield, our defense, our shelter. It's something we just have to do.
Emma draws circles on my chest with her index finger. I reach out and take her hand in mine.
"It has to be of us," Emma mutters.
We promised Rahne. We promised her that we wouldn't let them win. That it would be one of us. And it will be one of us. If it's not me, it has to be Emma. If it's not her, then it has to be me. I can't help but think of the possibility of us being the finalists, but I push away the disturbing thought.
"It will be," I say, determined.
Our gazes meet. There's something unsaid between us, something like nothing we had before: We're completely synchronized. This is our vow, our final promise to Rahne.
I don't think I've ever felt this committed to any other promise, and I can only assume the same applies to Emma. Before, we just focused on surviving. But now, we have a pact: We will make sure one of us gets out of here alive.
If it's not her, it's you. I think, shortly before drifting off to sleep. And the second you start thinking it won't be you… You better make sure it's her.
Three days pass by rather uneventfully.
I wake up to a quiet morning. It's sunny, we're both drenched in sweat. Emma is still sleeping, just as twitchy as usual. I'm lucky I'm a heavy sleeper, otherwise, her constant shifting would keep waking me up in the middle of the night. It's weird and funny that the calmest girl I've ever laid eyes on is so restless while sleeping.
I slide out of the sleeping bag and run a hand through my hair. It's beginning to get greasy, I'll have to wash up the next time we get near water. Which has to be today, because we're running low.
"Which day is today?" I ask while eating a handful of safe berries Emma found. We've come across five different species, and according to her, two were poisonous. I would definitely eat from the first bush I found if it weren't for her, so I feel fortunate she's with me.
"Ten," Emma says, after swallowing. Even in the Hunger Games, Miss Frost cannot let go of her table manners, even while eating off a leaf with her hands.
"Day ten, still eight tributes," I repeat.
"All alliances," Emma points out. "Guido and Monet. Careers. Us. This is why the number won't go down. No one can find each other. It's almost funny, really."
"Do you think we can get Monet and Guido to our side?"
She shrugs. "Maybe. But I don't know how we'll find them. I don't know if we can trust them either. Even if we convince them to be allies, the moment the careers are gone, they'll try to kill us. I don't know about Monet, we can probably handle her… But Guido seems strong."
"So I guess we just…"
"Keep doing what we're doing." Emma completes my sentence.
"Maybe they'll run into each other before they can find us."
"I hope so. But either way, none of the alliances will break until all the others are eliminated. If the careers do kill Guido and Monet, they won't start killing each other before we're gone as well."
"Yeah," I nod. "We need to get water today."
"I saw a small lake yesterday," Emma says. "It's not far from here."
We're constantly sweating. So we decide to leave our stuff here while we go get water. We know that the remaining tributes aren't good at climbing, so we pick a tree to do that. Before we leave, I can't help but stare at the tree. I wonder if they're high enough. For a second, I consider heading back and placing them on higher branches; but it should be fine. The area is stranded anyway. They're probably high enough too. I must be overthinking it.
I am cautious while entering the lake. I splash my face and hair, then dive inside.
Something replays in my mind.
The painfully slow leaves floating inside the water, the force that pulls me in, the water in my lungs…
The blood my heart pumps begin to feel too much, like my veins will crack open anytime and I will explode. I swim above and gasp for air. I must have been fast because Emma is staring at me. She sits by the lake, her legs are in the water.
"Scott?" She calls.
I try to answer, but my lungs won't let me. My throat is dry, the more I try to breathe, the less air I get. I'm hyperventilating right now, but it feels like I'm so out of air, I'll die.
"Are you okay?"
The light the water refracts. The sickening shade of dark blue underwater. The trees that swa m past me.
Emma holds out her hands. "Breathe, Scott,"
This feeling, it doesn't go away. I want to swim to the land, I want to get out of the water before it gets me again. I never want to dive inside again. But I'm glued here, and I can't move.
Leaves, trees, light, force, dark blue.
I can't breathe. I can barely gulp, and I feel like I can pass out any second.
Emma gets into the lake. She swims toward me. "Scott," She repeats my name, then says some other stuff, but I can't make out the words.
"Hey," She places her hands on my cheeks. "You're okay. Let's do it together, alright?"
I nod.
"Look into my eyes. Just focus on my eyes," She presses her forehead against mine. "Breathe with me."
I obey. I direct all my focus into her eyes. They're deep set, they stare into my soul. The shade of blue in her eyes isn't like that disgusting dark blue under the flood. It's a pale blue, almost as light as the sky. I've always considered her eyes to be an icy blue, but I was wrong.
"You're doing wonderful,"
Her eyes are the exact same shade as the cloudless sky on a hot day. They're soothing that way. So I focus on her eyes, and we breathe together.
Emma begins to drag me to the land.
"Come on, let's get out."
When my hands finally touch the dirt, I let out a relieved sigh and lay down on the grass. I rest my eyes. Emma lies next to me. She lets me rest for a couple of minutes, then speaks.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, thank you." I squeeze her hand lightly.
"It's the… Water, isn't it?" She asks.
She says the word water in a certain way, she's talking about the flood.
"I don't know," I say. "Maybe."
Maybe. Probably.
"Attention, tributes, attention!"
William Stryker. Head gamemaker. I sit up, instinctively.
"The regulations requiring a single victor has been suspended."
"What…" Emma mutters.
"From now on, two victors may be crowned if both originate from the same district. This will be the only announcement."
We digest the words at our own paces. I'm pretty certain my lips are slowly forming a dumbfounded smile, my gaze falls upon Emma, who looks just as dumbfounded and objectively frozen.
I let out a laugh, and lean over her. "Emma…" I say, only loud enough for us to hear. "You're a genius,"
It's her. It's me. It's us, all about us!
Why else would they make this change? Why else would two tributes have a chance of winning? Why this year? The whole star crossed lovers thing must have become popular. Popular enough to make them take a step back. Perhaps they did this to avoid any reputational damage to the Games, to the system. The people, especially the Capitolians, must be eating this up.
"You're a fucking genius," I repeat, then I kiss her. It's quick, it's a reflex.
This is the third time I'm kissing someone and the first time I'm kissing Emma. But before I can even truly understand how her lips feel on mine, my brain reactivates, and I pull away.
I kissed Emma. I kissed Emma.
When? How? Why?
Why did I kiss Emma?
I don't know! I just did, it just happened. My entire family is watching this. Her family is watching this. Jean is watching this. The entire country is watching this.
I just kissed Emma Frost in front of the entire country. On live television.
I try not to look distressed, for the sake of the act, so I lean over her again.
"Sorry, I'm so sorry. I was uh…" My words trail, I fumble. How do you tell someone you accidentally kissed them?
"It's fine," Emma says, even though she looks even more dumbfounded than before. She takes a long pause before speaking again. "I suppose it happens." She adds, and that's it.
This is bad. This is Emma, for crying out loud! She always knows what to say and how to say it. She always talks too much. Perhaps she's trying to comfort me, in her own way, but I feel worse.
"I'm serious," I mutter. "I don't know what came over me. I just did it."
Emma rolls her eyes. "Scott. It's fine. Really."
"No, it's not and—"
Midway through my sentence, Emma motions me to get closer with her index finger. I oblige. She leans into my ear. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."
Oh.
Okay.
She leans closer. Now, it's Emma who kisses me.
This time is different. It's slower, I can truly feel her. Her lips are chapped, yet they still feel softer compared to mine. We break the kiss naturally this time, not abruptly like before.
"Noted," I smirk. She returns it.
"We can go home," She says.
"We will go home," I say. "Together."
We can go home. I want to jump and scream. We will go home!
We can do this, we can really do this. There are only eight tributes left. If we wait long enough, if we wait for the right time… There's a high chance we can do this.
We can win this thing for Rahne. We can leave this arena together.
After hanging around the lake a bit longer, we begin to head back.
"We need to get high," I say while walking. "We need to find somewhere even more stranded. We need to prepare. After one of the alliances is gone, they'll come for us."
"Yeah, I—" Emma starts, but she freezes. Her eyes are fixated straight ahead, she moves her index finger over her lips and points forward with her brows. I keep quiet and look ahead.
Brian and Betsy, below the tree we kept our supplies on, going through everything we have.
We don't have any weapons with us. I only have the small blade I picked from the Cornucopia, but it won't work against them. Brian has a spear, Betsy has a sword, and they have our axe and the crossbow alongside the rest of our stuff.
I should have headed back and tied them up higher.
Emma and I look at each other nervously. We need to get the hell out of here before they see us. Briefly, I wonder where Selene and Shaw are, but it doesn't take a long time for me to understand what happened. It's the rule change. Shaw and Selene are from District 1, and Brian and Betsy are from District 2.
The strongest alliance is split into two now.
Emma takes a step back, and I follow, but she steps onto a branch. Brian and I lock eyes. I grab Emma by the hand.
We run.
"Please tell me you have a mini crossbow in one of your pockets," Emma says.
"I only have a blade," I say.
Emma scans the area. "We need to climb again," She points out. "On somewhere they can't reach. It'll buy us time."
I spot another pine tree, like the one from the first day. Back to the basics, huh?
We climb from opposite ends, it's Brian who reaches the bottom of the tree first. He has the crossbow. He shoots, but like that day, he misses again and again.
"I remember telling you to come back after you learn to aim," I yell, while I keep on climbing. Emma is above me already. She can pull me up once she settles on a branch.
"Shut up!" Brian shoots another arrow, it flies right past me. It's close, I have to move my chest to dodge it. I hear a wince from above, and a warm droplet wets my forehead.
I look up immediately. Please no.
I see a bloody hand holding a branch tightly, trembling. It's only a scrape on her left hand, thankfully. It's a little deep, but she'll be alright. Emma lets out a deep breath, but she continues climbing.
Brian drops the crossbow, he must be out of ammo. Betsy arrives with her sword and the supplies.
"Seriously? Again?"
Emma pulls me up. "Seriously," She mimics Betsy. "Again."
"You know what, Emma? We're not leaving until we're done with you," Betsy says. "What will you do? You don't have food or water. No weapons either. You have nothing. Not even those stupid trackerjackers. You'll get down. We have all the time in the World."
They weren't joking.
It's been three days. We've been on this tree for three fucking days, they built a camp under it.
We take turns sleeping, even though we can barely sleep. I need to clean Emma's wound, but I can't. We don't have any water or iodine. I tore apart some fabric from my T-Shirt to wrap it. It's nothing lethal, she won't die from a scrape, but I'd be more comfortable if we cleaned it.
The lack of food and water is our biggest problem. Thankfully, it rained last night, so we won't die of dehydration soon. We might die from starvation, though.
We haven't eaten in days. They constantly cook things to lure us down. They hunt, make stew, they ate my emergency crackers, fruit I collected from the Cornucopia…
We won't get down, but we can't keep doing this forever. We're getting weak.
Emma sure looks skinnier, and I'm certain that I do as well. There are occasional dark spots blocking my sight, and my stomach feels like there's a hole in there.
They're cooking stew again, it cooks right below our dangling feet, in a little metal pot. It smells delicious. If I were to jump, I could land right in front of it and get to eating.
Shut up, I say to my hungry inner conscious.
We're seated on a thick branch, and Emma's head rests on my shoulder. Her eyes are empty and faded, she must be seeing the dark spots too. "This is lame," She says.
Yes, Emma. Starving is lame. (I blame it on her hunger.)
A white parachute lands on the next branch, as if it heard her. The sponsors!
"Well, that was quick," Emma mutters, barely audible.
I open it quickly, and my eyes meet a sight from heaven.
Bread.
Emma grabs a piece of paper from the box, there must be a note again. "From the people of District 12." She reads.
That's Rahne's district.
The bread is still warm. I don't know how they managed to send this. Districts 11, 12, and 13 are the poorest. There used to be 14 too, in that list, but… Well, there is no District 14 anymore.
"Thank you," I say, loud and clear. I split the loaf into two and hand one of the pieces to Emma. We both certainly feel better after eating. I don't see dark spots anymore, my stomach feels more relieved too. Emma's eyes look a bit more lively. She plays with the fabric I wrapped around her wound.
"We need to come up with something," I say. "We can't keep doing this. We won't get more food."
Emma's fingers trail on the hardened fabric drenched in dried blood. "I think I have a plan," She mutters uncomfortably. "I'm not sure you'll like it, though. I'm not sure I like it either."
When it's the morning, the instance I wake up, I look down.
"Morning," Emma says. It was her turn to watch. "It's done. Let's go."
All we need to do is get our supplies back and relocate. Somewhere high, like we planned. We get down and get to work. We walk past Brian and Betsy. The moment I reach to grab my backpack, I hear Emma's gasp. I whip my head around and see Betsy pull her down from her feet.
"I told you," Betsy says, climbing on top of Emma. "We're not leaving until we're done with you."
They were faking it. Fuck.
Brian gets off the ground, and lunges at me. I punch him. He feels warm. I have to keep him away from the weapons. He punches me back and trips me up to get his spear. His cheeks are rosy. From the ground, I manage to hold his ankle. He trips and falls.
I need to think fast.
He tries to kick me, but I get ahold of both his legs and pull him. I try to climb on top of him, but he tackles me instead.
"You know what, Thirteen," He says, his voice hoarse. "I can handle you with my bare hands," He wrinkles his crimson face as he begins to choke me. I wonder if the blisters on his skin are from the trackerjackers. I wish I paid attention before. I try to get his hands off my throat. I try to push him off me, I use all my force. My hands, my legs… I just need to buy more time.
"I don't know what you were thinking," He says. "It was over the moment we laid eyes on you. You just turned it into a hassle. We've been waiting to be here our entire lives, while you were shooting chickens at Thirteen. Did you really think you could defeat us?" He says, with a chuckle.
From the tree beside us, I hear an animalistic sound. It's not an animal, though. It's Betsy.
She's throwing up.
I take a good look at her from the corner of my eye. Unlike Brian, she's already covered in blisters. Her skin is so red, like she stayed under the sun for years. She collapses.
A cannon goes off almost immediately.
"Here's the thing, Brian," I say, breathless. "We already have."
I have to admit.
If it weren't for Emma, I could have never thought of this.
Tell me, I said.
She said nothing.
Tell me, I insisted. You know it's us or them. We promised her.
She didn't speak like I expected her to. Instead, she reached for my right pocket and took out the small blade. She took my left hand in hers, positioned it right above the pot they cooked the stew in and handed the blade to my other hand.
"Are you saying that your blood is toxic?"
"I'm resistant, obviously. But to others, yes. My entire family is banned from donating blood because of me. The doctors told my mother my levels were so high, even a couple drops would be enough to cause radiation poisoning in someone else's system."
TW / Self harm & mentions of blood drinking (sort of) I guess?
It was only momentary pain, the cut. All I needed to do was to cut deep enough to make it bleed. I managed to aim perfectly well while they weren't paying attention.
Just a couple of drops, that was all it took.
After that, all we needed to do was to wait until they were poisoned. When we saw them laying like that, we thought our job was done. But they, unbeknownst to the fact that they were poisoned, were pretending to sleep to make us get down. We should have paid more attention. There weren't cannons, our conclusion was misled. But it doesn't matter now.
Especially now that Brian has collapsed too.
The second cannon goes off.
Day thirteen. Six tributes left.