Author's Note: I know this is an extremely long chapter but I just had more and more ideas. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 6: Family
Number of different POVs: 5
IMBER (DISTRICT 4 FEMALE)
I run to the side of the pillar and climb down easily. The only hitch was when my hand slipped and I almost fell. However, I grabbed on again. I pick over the loot with my allies. No weapons. Food, medical kits, poisonous plants, a bit of rope, but no weapons. Not even a fork. I keep looking until the boy from 7 runs up to me and attempts a tackle. Without even breaking a sweat, I grab his neck and squeeze. I tow him along with me as I search for anything remotely sharp. I suppose the rope might help a bit, so I sling the coil over my shoulder and continue my search.
My free hand finds its way to a medical kit that I take because, why not? I feel him go limp in my hand but I don't release yet him because it is just him going unconscious. I find some lamb soup and clam chowder. Then I meet up with my district partner, who tells me that the boy from 7's pulse has stopped. I drop him and reunite with the others. We head off in a random direction towards the woods.
After a small ways in, we decide to stop and make camp because we want to organize our stuff and eat. I insist we keep walking because it is barely midday and we should keep going unless we find an ideal spot to camp. Eight cannon shots ring through the air. I feel agitated and so do the others that we only got rid of eight of our opponents so far. The others try to shoot my idea down but we come to the compromise of taking a quick break before continuing.
None of us found weapons, but we do have a great deal of backpacks, water bottles, iodine, food, and medical supplies. I am about to pop some food in my mouth when Betha grabbed my hand and pulled it down sharply. We all look at her and she glares back. "That stuff is poisonous. She's a good fighter. We need her." I have to admit that it feels good to hear her say that even though we are in the arena, which is no place for compliments.
We sift through the food, alarmed by this, and find that about half of it is poisonous. Gemm stands up and grabs some sticks, then breaks them. Then he gives a few to us each and tells us to sharpen the tips. It takes about half an hour. He takes the juice from one of the berries and squeezes it onto the tip of the twig. He hurls the twig so hard it sticks in tree bark.
I divvy up some food so we each have a small meal to eat while we walk. We are each gripping a few of the lethal "darts" that Gemm created. Around late afternoon the trees thin out and soon disappear. The soil abruptly stops and turns into sand. The temperature spikes rapidly, and even though it is nearly sunset a thin line of sweat appears on my brow.
I become aware of my feet being damp, but I am so busy scanning for targets that I don't realize we are in the water until it is up to my knee. Opthalmius and I dive in without hesitation. The others are doggy paddling much slower. I keep going but he turns back and grabs Osher and Betha. We seem to unanimously decide to continue towards a small island in the distance. I turn back to bring Gemm. We reach the island around sunset. In the sky first is Sheen. Then the girls from 3, 5, and 6. The boys from 7, 8, 10, and 12 follow them. We each eat a nicely sized meal before heading off again. I jump into the water and take Osher and Gemm this time. Opthalmius has Betha.
I long to play in the water but instead focus on speed. The second our feet hit land we are off, none of us making noise. Unanimously yet silently we decide on a direction.
We run as one animal, one predator, through the velvet night. We don't stop for the far-off boom of a cannon. We don't talk for we do not need to. We are of one mind, one thought, one body.
Gemm takes the lead and we are what should be halfway through the night when Osher hears it first. He stops short and whispers under his breath. "I hear something. Quiet."
We all listen and hear it, too. A soft rustling in the sand that means another tribute just a few meters away. They have no idea we are here. I tiptoe quietly up to them with the others when Gemm, losing control, rushes towards the tribute screaming. It is Bess, the girl from 8.
Even though it is dark, I manage to make out that she has a permanent camp here. I motion to Osher, Betha and Opthalmius to follow me around the other side. While Gemm distracts her, I tiptoe up behind her and stab one of my darts into her back. Her body will go limp within minutes. Gemm looks up at me angrily. "Why. Did. You. Do. That? She was my kill. That was clear. I was going to take her, but noooo; you needed her for your kill. You need to let others have things and not be greedy in an alliance, Imber. Didn't you know that? Or did you know that and not care anyway?"
He starts walking towards me in a vaguely threating way. I have stepped back until I am almost in the bushes when he jumps on me. I could take him if I wasn't caught by surprise. He wraps his arms around my neck and squeezes. His face is red and only a few centimeters away from mine. He grins maniacally at me. "It's only fair for you to give me my kill back."
My breath is almost gone and I see black spots in my eyes. Opthalmius, Osher, and Betha are frozen in horror and shock. It suddenly takes a lot of effort to not go unconscious. The cannon sounds and he sends me a look that clearly says, "That's what I'm going to do to you." I claw weakly at his hands but I know I have no chance of survival. My vision is about to go dark. The last thing I see before I will go into a coma are Betha's hands reaching down to lift Gemm off of me. A loud crack splits the air. I must be his skull because a bloodied rock drops not far from my hand and there is an odd dent in his head.
My brain is slow to regain oxygen, but his cannon makes me realize that I am not going to die. Yet. I slowly stand up and smile at Betha but remember quickly where we are and that this is a time for hunting, not smiling. We have to go.
But before we leave, we loot her camp so that others can't get it. She has two pairs of night-vision glasses that allow you to see like it is daylight outside. The four of us decide that Betha and Osher should get them. She also has some more food, a sleeping bag, and extra water bottles and backpacks. We pack up and walk on again, not peaking of anything but strategy.
At sunrise we still haven't found anyone else so we head back to our camp. Betha and I are guards first. This is probably because Opthalmius and Osher want to pretend to sleep while eavesdropping on us talking about why she saved my life. It was a good try, but we purposely station ourselves on opposite sides of the island. I am not naïve. I know that the Gamemakers did will not overlook what she did and to escape punishment, we will need to talk about it. But I am not ready to relive what I thought meant certain death yet.
At about 9, judging by the sun, we awaken Osher and Opthalmius and tell them it is their turn to guard. But it isn't easy to slip out of guard mode so I find myself lying awake on the hot sand. Osher turns to Opthalmius and says semi-casually, "So are you going to kill Betha soon?"
The look on Opthalmius's face is complete and utter surprise. "What? Why would I do that?" Osher looks surprised that the idea never occurred to him. "You know, because she saved your girlfriend when it was your job to and took away your honor." Opthalmius's face is blushing red and I wonder what he is thinking. "She wouldn't, she doesn't, she couldn't… She wouldn't feel that way, okay?!" I suddenly wonder if he feels that way but my brain's exhaustion overrides any other feelings and I fall asleep.
BETHA (DISTRICT 2 FEMALE)
The heat of the sun wakes me up before Osher does. It is noon and the heat nearly burns me. I sit up groggily. All three of them are staring at me like I am some kind of creature, and they don't know if I am poisonous or edible. I look at them and make a split-second decision to play dumb. "What is it?"
Osher just looks and looks. Opthalmius busies himself with other, meaningless tasks and Imber takes my hand and leads me to the other side of the island. "What?" I ask irritably.
"Why did you save my life? Twice?" she asks. Imber is to the point, which is one of the things I appreciate about her. It is also one of the things about her that annoys me. She knows as well as I do that I could've let her die either time without blame. She also knows that Gemm was more skilled than she is. But if I told her my real motive then she would either laugh at me or kill me. I know that my only claim to safety right now is her curiosity. I killed one of our allies, perhaps our most powerful one, the one who gave us those darts, and I put us all at risk of the Gamemakers' wrath in doing so. I don't know why I do what I do but I say the truth. Or part of it, at least. "We all know Gemm was psychotic but none of us knew how or when to dispose of him. Then I saw him attack you and something snapped in my mind and I attacked him. I'm not sorry and you shouldn't be either." I tense my arms, ready for Imber to lunge, but she doesn't. Instead she does something a million times worse. She stands up and walks away.
I don't bother to follow her. Instead I draw pictures in the sand idly. They start simple: a bird, a sun, a cup of water. Soon I'm making full scenes from home. Me and Osher in the training center dueling with swords, my home nestled near the mountain as I take my two younger siblings to the market and buy one a cookie. I am suddenly aware of a shadow over the drawing. I turn around slowly to see my mother standing less than a meter away.
It doesn't make sense, of course. Why would my mom be in the arena when I am the tribute? But here she is, clear as day. "I had no idea you were such an artist, Betha." Her voice comes out. Stiff, angry, but still her voice. She advances slowly and I inch backwards. "Families shouldn't keep secrets, you know. You do consider me family, don't you?" Suddenly I realize that this is a mutt, one of the Gamemakers' tricks to scare me.
"Um, my mom is family," I stammer. "You aren't her, though. Um, you are something else. Um, a mutt, I think." She walks closer to me, her head tilted to one side. "Now, that's no way to treat your relatives. I think you need a little lesson in loyalty."
She comes to me so close she is practically on me then picks me up. I twist and turn from her grasp but she won't let go. I slap her face but she holds on tighter. I take one of my darts, then realize they are back on the other side of the island. I twist and thrash around but her grip is too tight. I open my mouth to scream, only to find her hand there already. Then she tightens her hand so much she cuts off my breath. This is it, I think. This is where, when, and how I die. How ironic, my end at the hands of the woman who was my beginning, appearing in the place she dreaded my arrival in. I thrash around weakly to no avail. I reach out to snap her neck but I can't do it.
She isn't my real mother but I can't help it. I just can't do it. I go limp and allow my final moments at the Gamemakers hands, when a blade whistles past my nose and lands squarely in her chest. Her hand releases me. I turn to see Opthalmius there with a silver parachute draped over his shoulder that must've arrived in the last few minutes.
I walk back to the campsite, never meeting eyes with Imber. She must have told the others what I said, because they all act on guard around me. I guess when they found out "something snapped in my mind" it made them all nervous. Only Imber refuses to acknowledge me. I can't imagine what is going through her head. That night I am on guard first shift with Osher. I hear a rustling behind me and I see Imber stirring in her sleep. Her hand flaps around until it closes around one of the darts that Gemm made. I tighten my grip on the knife in my hand, anticipating an attack. What I don't expect is Imber to sit up and toss the dart at me casually. My fist closes around it just before it punctures my skin and she grins a me maniacally. I shout to Osher and he comes running.
Opthalmius sits up groggily, but the sight of Osher being held down by Imber with one arm while she smiles sadistically at me and pins me to the ground with her other hand wakes him up quickly. Unsure of what he will do, my hand goes automatically for my knife. I hold it uncertainly between Imber and Opthalmius. She starts talking, slowly but venomously.
"So, you felt no regret for destroying our greatest asset, huh? You put passion before strategy. I would have rather died than see you fracture our loyalty. Looks like you didn't care though, now did you? So make a choice. Die here and now at my merciful hand or run like the coward you are."
I can't run, she knows that, not with her pinning me to the ground. "So, looks like you picked the merciful way out. Well, here it is." She releases Osher and takes the knife from my hand. She traces a design on my cheek, concentric circles of blood and pain. Neither of the boys do anything, or they will risk the same fate. I don't scream. I will not satisfy her in that way.
It is perhaps a completely inappropriate thought to have at the moment, but I can't control it. All I can think is how I could ever have loved her. The moment I saw her, I felt an oddly intense "pulling" as if I was orbiting around her gravity. But now, here in the arena, she snapped. Maybe I have, too, and that is why I saw my mom. Maybe we all have been changed by it. No. We definitely all have.
I look into her eyes and see, for a fraction of a fraction of a second, a girl like the one I loved. And in that moment, I do something impulsive, irrational, and downright idiotic. I raise my head as far up as I can and kiss her on the lips.
CLEO'S POV (DISTRICT 7 FEMALE)
I am so dehydrated I cannot even cry about my current, desperate situation. I am stuck on a wooden pole, who-knows-how-many meters in the air, with no food or water. Climbing down is not an option, and neither is jumping off. I sit on top of the pole and sob. My stomach is tearing up inside with hunger and a wry smile crosses my lips. At least I won't starve to death.
Below me I see only the Cornucopia, the woods, and the bloodstained grass. Not even a corpse. If I wasn't dying it would almost seem peaceful. Minus the blood and the Cornucopia. If I squint, I can nearly make out a small, shimmering square up above me but I immediately dismiss it as a mirage. I beg the Gamemakers to finish me off every hour of every day. Tomorrow is the third day, the day I will die of thirst. Looking at the sky in the hopes of a parachute becomes my only pastime.
Suddenly one appears. But the Gamemakers are cruel people for they put it on the ground just at the foot of my pillar. I don't know why, but the sight of it motivates me to climb down beyond any fears. It must have water or food; it must have something from a sponsor. I clumsily make my way down. It is a miracle I don't fall off. I race over to it and pick it up eagerly, my hands shaking from lack of water.
Inside of it are a full water bottle and two loaves of bread from my district. I drink the entire bottle in one sip and yet my thirst is still there. I permit myself only a slice of the bread. The feat of self-control makes my hands twitch. It tastes and smells like home. Not the place of people falling to their death regularly, but the place from my earliest memories.
My father's touch is warm and protective. My mother's touch is soft and reassuring. I experience both of them as we walk to the market. For my third birthday, they let me pick out one thing. I choose a loaf of bread to eat that night. We take it home and my mom slices it. Even though we will save it for tonight, she lets me have a small piece now, "to make sure it is tasty for dinner so that we aren't disappointed by our feast," she explains. Of course it is not a disappointment, but instead so heavenly the memory sticks with me after tragedy leaves my family scarred and broken.
I bring my mind back to the present and focus only on not being lost to my memories again. I can't let that happen, not when I am here. In school it was okay because it wasn't life-or-death and my future was set anyway. Not only that but I knew my numbers, letters, colors, and shapes. But the arena must become my past, present, and future, my body and soul, my reason to exist and the place I will not exist for long.
That night I see nobody in the sky and I know that the Capitol audience is going to complain soon. As if on cue a cannon booms in the distance and I can't control my next thought. One step closer to home for me. I shake it off. Taking my things with me, I tiptoe into the Cornucopia. The Careers left nothing but a few medical kits and an empty water bottle. I curse under my breath at its lack of water but make camp clumsily. My food and water here, my sleeping area here, the door here, weapons here. I hear another cannon far away and I wonder who it was.
I lay down and try for some rest. It isn't my favorite option, but it is all I can do with no weapon to fight with and no light source to see by. If any sleep was in the cards, which is doubtful, a third cannon erases it. So I squat in front of the cave, looking around for danger. None comes.
By morning, I am exhausted and have no choice but to sleep. Halfway through the day I wake up and cut myself another slice of bread. I have just finished the last crumb when I hear footsteps right outside. I look outside and see Lal, the girl from District Nine. I am confident I could take her, but I would rather avoid confrontation. That is impossible, however, when she spots me inside.
She struts up to me confidently and sits next to me. Wordlessly, she tears a chunk from one of the loaves, and even though this is the worst possible time for it to happen, I drift off into memory.
Greedy hands steal a chunk of bread from the bakery shelf. I see it and nobody else does. I see it, and nobody else notices. I see it, and I alone see it. Nobody is disrupted in any way. I see it, and I pretend I am part of the "nobody else" because reporting theft is murder, and I am not a murderer. Yet.
I shake off the memory before it pulls me in deeper because my life is at the hands of this girl. She just smiles at me. Then a giggle breaks its way onto her face. "I am soooo sorry! I must have been so ungrateful to you to just come in here and steal your bread!" Suddenly her face darkened and her tone became angrier and more suited to the arena. Her words cut like cold steel. "I am ever so sorry to steal the only thing you have left of your home, the only thing you will have left of your home. Forever."
She leaps at me and pins me down. I am much taller than her and my mother always used to say I looked like a tree. I manage to get up and hold her on the Cornucopia. I prepare to become a murderer—again. Then I grab her head and slam it again and again on the metal floor. Blood spatters it and her face is terrified. Suddenly I am jolted back into my thoughts again. It would scare me to do this near another tribute if she wasn't beyond hope.
A scared face of a young girl stares up at me. She is only a child, not a villain or a monster. She is only a child. Not a criminal, not an enemy. She is only a child and I feel warmth on my hands. I have to don't look down to know that it is her blood on my flesh. I jerk away from her, suddenly terrified at what she means for me, at what I did to her and why. I run and run from that spot and when I reach the well in the center of the town I stick my hands and face inside, wanting and deserving nothing more than drowning. Some animal instinct to survive forces me to bring my head out of the water and I hate it, I hate it so much. I don't deserve any of this. Her life would still exist if mine didn't, if mine never had. But mine did and hers doesn't. I am a coward. I am a coward. I cannot think about her but I do anyway. I am a coward. I am a coward. I am a coward because when my name is called at the reaping I feel happy. I am a coward.
Lal lies there as the life force seeps out of her body. Morning comes finally and her cannon booms loudly. All day, I hear that boom echoed a thousand, a million, a billion times in my ears. Then, that night, I am drifting off to sleep when a phrase plays in my mind. Just once and then I am asleep, but once is more than enough. I am a coward.
RUSTICA'S POV (DISTRICT 11 FEMALE)
Even I know that my allies would be better off without me and I couldn't care less. I can't fight and I did not come in here expecting to win. I probably wouldn't have survived long at home either so at least my being here has kept a child who would have lived otherwise out of the arena.
Pruna scouts ahead while Triticum helps me walk. It is the third day we have been here and we have found nothing but woods. I know we would've probably found something else if I wasn't with them, but they seem determined not to mention my leg. It makes me sicker than if they had just killed me because of it.
Whenever someone treats me like a toddler because of my leg, it makes me want to scream. But I don't dare do it in here. As we continue, the air becomes slowly more chilled and frost appears on the ground. I start to slip and slide and I realize I am standing on what must be ice. I never saw any of it at home, but I did go to school so I know what it is. Triticum, who I never met until the reaping, must have too because he whispers the word "Arctic" to me. It is a foreign word, one that deals with concepts I have never experienced until today.
I nearly fall over and Triticum's grip on my arm tightens. Pruna slows down and heads back to us and I see her lips are a light blue. Now that I think about it, so are Triticum's. "Clearly we cannot make camp here. We should head back to the woods." I nod my assent and Triticum declares his loudly. Too loudly for my tastes, but nobody comes running.
The pressure of his hand is equal to how his arm was on me when he grabbed me from that tower and took me to my rescue. I don't get why but I doubt he is in love with me because the reaping was our first meeting. I suppose he is handsome enough, with dark skin, deep brown eyes and slim arms, but I refuse to think that way about him. Especially because he could sneak up on anyone at any time with his eerily silent way of movement, so we turn around and head for the woods and a place to make a camp.