I breathe through my nose. In, out. In, out. His shoulder wound doesn't appear to be that bad. The camera keeps cutting to it to fill the ensuing silence as Finnick, Johanna and Peeta walk through the desert towards one of the outcroppings of thickly packed trees. The camera backs away, giving us a birds eye view of the entire arena. The cornucopia remains in the desert, which is completely barren and situated to the west. The snow-capped mountains loom far to the east and in between them are the pockets of dense vegetation.
"I'm guessing those forests are where they're gonna find food and water. That desert's completely empty," Haymitch says.
I turn to look at him; he's staring at the screen.
"Yes," I croak before joining him. "They're all going there."
"But there are four different forested areas, Katniss," Madge observes. "They can't all go to the same one. That man from 3 is headed towards the one all the way to the left. The careers are going to the one all the way to the right. From the looks of it Peeta and his allies are headed for either of the two middle ones."
All I can do is nod.
The screen is, again, split into four. The top right shows Enobaria and Gloss taking inventory of their weapons. Gloss is sporting a nasty looking black eye but apart from that, the duo seems to be relatively unscathed. The top left shows Beetee, alone and weaponless, slowly making his way towards the trees.
The bottom right shows the woman from 9, who I had completely forgotten existed up until now, still mingling around the cornucopia. Apparently she had run in the opposite direction, away from trees and mountains, only to realize there is nothing there. She's picking her way through what remains by the cornucopia. There's nothing. The Gamemakers were stingy this year.
The bottom left segment of screen shows Finnick, Johanna and Peeta walking swiftly towards the trees. This is the screen I watch.
"What was his name?" Peeta asks after a while.
"Who?" Finnick replies, twirling his trident in his right hand.
"The man from 10," Peeta says with a grimace.
"Why? It's not like you finished him off. That honor goes to me, I think," Johanna says as she wipes the sweat off her brow. Peeta remains silent.
"Maybe you should stretch your shoulder, Peeta. He didn't slice you too deep but you still want to make sure you can shoot," Finnick offers as a change of subject. "There's no one around us. Now's the best time to practice."
"Good idea," Peeta agrees, pulling out the bow and arrow, wincing slightly from the movements to his shoulder.
I can feel Haymitch's eyes on the back of my head. Obviously he knows I must have taught Peeta this skill but I don't turn around to confirm. If the Capitol knows I have a weapon stored in the house it can only mean bad news. Then again, how else would I have taught Peeta? I try not to think about it.
"Are you any good?" Johanna asks, eying him silently.
"Not really," Peeta responds. He stings an arrow and aims for the sand a few feet in front of him, releasing the arrow while maintaining a steady walking pace. Peeta isn't bad. But he isn't great. His aim is pretty shotty but he sends arrows flying with enviable ease. I attribute it to his upper body strength. At least if he's in a scuffle, and his attacker is within 25 feet, he could deliver a deadly shot. Still, I'm silently thankful that he has an extra dagger stored in his belt.
"I never got the hang of weapon training," Peeta continues, picking up his arrow from the sand.
"Right. Arts and crafts is more your thing. I would knock it but it kind of saved your life last time," Finnick says.
"Katniss saved me last time," Peeta corrects with a small smile. I flinch.
"Don't be so humble, 12," Johanna scoffs. "Your way with words and that hot bod won't save you this time."
Peeta almost drops the bow completely before barking out a laugh.
"My hot bod? What does that have to do with anything?" Peeta asks, his face reddening.
"Maybe that's the reason Katniss saved you. Maybe she just wanted to take it for a little test ride. Obviously it's worked well if she's decided to keep you," Johanna smirks and I want to disappear into the couch cushions as Haymitch laughs behind me. I've never met this girl but I have the sudden urge to send an arrow through her eye. Peeta turns so red he looks purple.
"Well I see you've completely thrown your old strategy out the window," Peeta says, stringing another arrow. "You can't really play the 'cowardly victim' card twice in a row."
Finnick, who has been snickering during this entire exchange, laughs whole-heartedly from his place behind Johanna and Peeta.
"Aww, Jo! You'll always be a cowardly victim to me!" he says before jogging forward and planting a big, wet kiss on her cheek. Peeta grins. Johanna pushes Finnick off, brandishing her axe at him with a menacing glare, which Finnick immediately laughs off. Peeta shoots another arrow. Unfortunately for the Gamemakers, there isn't a lot going on but I guess that's what they get for making the trees so far from the Cornucopia. Although I know they did it for a reason.
The screen with Peeta now fills the television. This is normal for the Games. When there's little going on, or too much going on, the Gamemakers air live footage of whatever the tribute from each corresponding District is doing. It's called District-Relevant Programming.
"I hate this thing," Peeta complains after a while, stowing the arrows in his sheath as they finally near the trees. They've been on the move for a few hours and during this time Prim has forced me to eat a piece of bread and drink some tea. I know this is the calm before the storm. That something bad awaits them in those trees so I take advantage of it. It's hard though: drinking and eating when Peeta is sweating, dehydrated, and sunburned in that completely barren desert.
Madge and Haymitch are still here and they too were forced to eat something by a very insistent Prim. Gale arrived as well and he sits in the corner on a stiff-backed kitchen chair. Haymitch drops his sandwich, however, when the screen splits and shows Beetee push his way into the dense vegetation. He's slower than Peeta's group so he only has about a five-minute head start on them, even if they are headed towards two different tree pockets.
It's incredibly dark inside the trees and the setting sun doesn't help with the visibility. The ground seems to be covered in vines and creepers and Beetee picks his way through, keeping his eyes focused ahead. He walks a little farther but strangely stops after only about two minutes of walking and follows his footsteps out, making his way back into the desert.
"What the hell is he doing that for?" Gale asks.
I turn to him. He looks worn and the bags under his eyes are deep. He's covered in coal dust and gives me a tight smile, one I assume is supposed to be supportive. I smile back. At least I try to. He's just trying to be a good friend and probably silently trying to apologize for last night.
"Probably realized it's safer in the desert," Haymitch responds for me. "It's bound not to be pretty in those trees. But the draw is that there's no water or food anywhere else."
Gale nods and everyone turns their attention back to the screen. Peeta, Finnick and Johanna have just reached the trees.
"What should we do?" Peeta asks, slinging the bow over his shoulder and reaching for his dagger.
"Go in together," Finnick responds immediately. "I'll go first. You follow me, Jo. Peeta, you take up the rear."
Johanna and Peeta share a look before nodding and follow Finnick into the dark.
This group of trees is equally as shadowy as the one Beetee went into and seems to be covered in the same type of vines and shrubbery. The trees are so thickly packed that it's almost impossible to see very far. I'm guessing that the trees are about one square mile for each pocket.
"Holy shit it's dark," Johanna whispers. "Can you hear anything?"
"No," Peeta whispers back. "Can you see anything Finnick?"
"Not really. Just…stay on guard," he responds.
"Obviously," Johanna mutters but she grips her axe a little tighter.
The trio walks silently on and I feel Prim take a hold of my hand as I release a low breathe. I can feel my heart beat slowly, thumping loudly in my chest. I press my hand there, pushing, hoping to still it.
"Stop," Finnick says and Peeta and Johanna cease their movements.
"What is it?" Peeta asks.
"Water," Finnick replies.
Just through the trees is a clearing with a large pond. Johanna and Peeta move next to Finnick.
"Is it OK to drink?" Johanna asks and Finnick shrugs.
"Only one way to find out," he says. "What can we use to drink this out of?"
"My sheath. I'll just hold the arrows. But we have to be quick because otherwise I don't think I'd be able to hold everything and defend myself at the same time," Peeta responds.
"Give me the sheath," Johanna says and Peeta obliges, clutching the arrows in one hand and gripping the dagger in the other. Johanna approaches the pond and dips the sheath into the water before pulling away quickly. She sniffs, looks back at Finnick and Peeta, and shrugs.
"Seems fine," she says before taking a large sip. They wait for some sign of distress but none comes. Johanna goes to fill up the sheath again, this time dipping her whole arm deep into the pond to fill the sheath to the brim.
Suddenly the pond starts to ripple in the middle, a series of quick splashes make their way toward where Johanna remains and something latches onto her arm. She screams, pulls the sheath, water spilling out the opening. But they seem to be more concerned with the large fish, teeth white and razor-sharp, squirming and still attacked to Johanna's bicep.
Finnick rushes forward, pries the fish free, and tosses it to the side. Johanna curses loudly, clutching her bleeding arm.
"What the hell was that?" she shouts angrily. "Shit!"
"Johanna, press some moss into that. There's some hanging off the trees," Peeta whispers, moving to comfort the obviously distressed woman in front of him. Johanna groans loudly and moves to the trees, pulling the moss off the trunk.
"Are you sure this is safe?" Johanna asks Peeta, glaring.
Peeta runs his fingers over the moss, contemplating the answer.
"I think so," he says. "This is a different climate than District 12 but I think it'll be OK. Looks the same."
I look quickly to Prim, who I know schooled Peeta on different types of plants in the weeks before Games. She gives me a small smile and nods.
"We need to fill this again. Peeta?" Finnick says. Peeta looks toward Finnick, his blue eyes shiny in the dark. He's worried.
"Can you fill this? Slowly. If another one of those fish comes along I'll spear it. We can eat them."
Peeta nods, swallowing thickly. He drops his arrows and bow on the ground next to Johanna, who looks more angry than she does hurt. It seems a single fish can't do a lot of harm but I'm beginning realize that wasn't the Gamemakers' intention. If they didn't have the sheath they would have had to drink from the pond directly and I cringe thinking of the way one of those fish could attach itself to a face. They're trying to make it exceedingly difficult to get water. And food. Maybe that's their plan for this year: to make The Hunger Games as literal as possible. My heart beats loud in my chest and I feel dizzy at the sight of Peeta putting himself in obvious danger. I also don't trust that one of his weapons is so close to Johanna. Mostly because I don't trust her.
"Here goes nothing," Peeta laughs but it doesn't reach his eyes. He dips the sheath into the pond slowly, careful not to upset the water. He manages to get it relatively full before the ripples start and he rips his arm away, keeping the sheath upright.
Finnick's eyes are glued to the pond and once the splashes are close enough to the shoreline he drives his trident into the water, never letting go, and pulls back smiling.
A toothy fish wriggles uselessly on one of the spokes.
Peeta, ever the gentleman, turns around and offers the sheath to Johanna.
"Thanks," she says, an uncharacteristic look of gratitude on her face. Johanna drinks the water and hands the empty sheath back to Peeta, who goes straight for the pond again.
"Finnick, ready?" Peeta asks. Finnick nods, they repeat the process and are rewarded with another fish. Peeta offers the sheath to Finnick but Finnick insists Peeta drink this time, pointing to his wounded shoulder. They keep this up until all three of them have drunk at least four sheaths of water.
"I don't trust this place after dark," Finnick observes. Peeta agrees and Johanna nods, her wound from earlier no longer leaking blood. Peeta puts the arrows back in the sheath and Finnick gathers the fish they've managed to accumulate. The three of them make their way back out of the trees just as the sun has set completely. Finnick sheds his jacket and puts the fish on top of it.
"We need to make a fire," Johanna states.
"But the Careers," Peeta points out and Johanna shakes her head at him.
"There are three of us. Two of them. Plus it's getting cold."
I don't blame Peeta for thinking this way. It was engrained into our heads last time never to make fires in the dark. We were the underdogs. But it's true that it would be stupid for the Careers to attack these three.
"She's right. Let's go grab something to make some kindling with," Finnick says.
While Johanna sits guarding of the weapons, Peeta and Finnick skirt around the edge of the trees, breaking off low-rising branches and pulling off sheets of bark. It doesn't look like these types of branches and things will be able to start a fire. They have no matches and I can see goose bumps rising on Peeta's neck. He's not one to get cold easily, he's always so warm, so I know it must be freezing.
Once they've gathered enough tree branches and the like they move back to Johanna who sits, shivering in the sand.
"Put your jacket on Finnick. You're useless if you've got hyperthermia," Johanna says with zero amount of emotion. The fish are piled on Johanna's lap but she hands them to Peeta once he's close enough.
"Hold these. I'm good at making fires," she says as she starts to gather the bits and pieces of wood they've collected. Silently, she takes a stick, sharpening the edge slightly with a knife, before rubbing it between her palms quickly on top of some bark.
"Once it starts to smoke, start putting the bark closer. It's not damp, which is good. But it's not super dry. You all are lucky I'm awesome at this," Johanna says with a smile, and yes, it starts to smoke. Before long they've managed to create a fairly large fire.
"Impressive, Jo," Finnick says before tweaking her nose. She swats him away and grabs a few fish from Peeta, putting them close to the fire.
I rub my eyes. I think the only way I'm as calm as I am is because they haven't encountered any other Tributes for the rest of the day but I know that can only last so long. They might not have any time to rest, actually. Just as I'm thinking it, the anthem starts to play and the face of the District 5 tribute fills the sky.
Prim hasn't let go of my hand and I let mine hang limply in hers. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I glance at Haymitch, surprised that he's been here the whole day. His expression is vacant. I don't know what he's thinking. I notice Madge isn't here any more.
"When did Madge leave?" I ask the room.
"Around the time they left the trees," Gale responds and I look to him. He's still sitting in the corner. I feel bad for not saying goodbye to Madge when she is so obviously supportive.
"Thanks for coming, Gale," I say, unable to explain in detail just how much it means that my best friend hasn't abandoned me yet. After everything that we've been through and the way that I've hurt him I'm surprised he hasn't left. But then again I wouldn't leave my hunting partner either.
"Sure thing, Catnip," he says softly and, partly because I have no idea what else to say to him, I look back at the screen. The three of them are eating the fish quietly, seemingly lost in their own thoughts. When they're done, they bury the bones in the sand and Johanna leaves to get more branches and bark for the fire.
"You two should sleep. I won't be able to," Peeta says quietly to Finnick.
"Are you sure? I can—" Finnick starts but is immediately interrupted by Peeta again.
"Trust me. I won't be able to sleep unless I'm absolutely exhausted," Peeta says before sighing. "I can't."
My heart aches in this moment. Deeply. I want to pull him out of the screen and warm his hands in mine. I want to fall asleep on this couch to the beat of his heart. Strong and steady and real, just like him.
Johanna comes back and piles what she's gathered onto the fire before lying down next to Finnick.
"Wake one of us up when you're tired, OK?" Finnick asks.
"Alright," Peeta affirms, adjusting himself closer to the fire, spreading his bad leg out in front of him and my chest twists painfully. I'm tired but I can't sleep. Prim's nodding off next to me and I settle her head on my shoulder. I look back to Haymitch who is taking a pull of his flask. Gale shifts in his seat.
"I'll watch if you want to sleep, Catnip. I promise I'll wake you up if…" he trails off but I shake my head at him.
"I won't be able to," I reply. I won't sleep without Peeta. Especially not now. "But Gale, you need to get up tomorrow. You need to work," I say and he drops his eyes to his lap.
"I know," he says, running his hand through his hair. "I just feel bad. For…" He doesn't finish, probably because Haymitch is in the room, but he doesn't have to. He's sorry for last night. And he should be sorry. But I can't deal with this now.
"Go, Gale," I plead quietly, but as kindly as I can. The last thing I need is people worrying over me. The last thing I need is a tired Gale because working in the mines is dangerous enough without sleep deprivation.
He must know this because he doesn't question me.
I look back at the screen and find Peeta in the lower left-hand corner, staring up at the stars. Gloss and Enobaria are in the upper right, also bunking down for the night. Beetee is still wandering around some trees. The woman from nine is in the middle of the desert, buried under the sand in a last ditch effort for some warmth. Peeta closes his eyes briefly and his lashes make shadows on his cheeks. He opens them again, looking up at the multitude of bright stars. I have the sudden urge to get up off the couch and go look at the stars in the District 12 sky. Because we'd be looking at the same ones. But I can't stop watching him. He's too small on the screen and I can't appreciate his face the way I want to. I can't see the pale freckles I know dance across the bridge of his nose. Or the birthmark on the side of his neck. He stares off into space and he looks to be deep in thought.
After a short while he starts to trace patterns in the sand at his feet, a series of letters. The camera focuses in on only him again but I still have to screw my eyes to see the word properly.
D-A-N-D-E-L-I-O-N
He smiles slightly but I can't return it. He's reminding me.
I won't let you down, Katniss.
There's still hope.
I'm shaken awake by Haymitch. At some point I must have passed out and I'm about to yell at him for letting me fall asleep in the first place when I hear a rush of expletives coming from the television.
The sand from the desert is whipping around Peeta, Johanna and Finnick like sheets of rain and they struggling to run faster towards another group of trees. They had been on the move, apparently, because they're no longer next to the forest.
"Things were quiet for too long. Gamemakers must have gotten bored," Haymitch explains. It's just the two of us in my living room now and I glance briefly out the window. It's light outside so it must be early morning.
"I can't open my eyes long enough to see where the hell we're going!" Johanna shouts angrily as she stumbles forward. The camera backs away, alerting the audience to the fact that they're heading towards another group of trees. It cuts to the woman from 9 and then to Beetee, both of whom are also stumbling that way.
Peeta's bow is slung around his good shoulder and he uses one hand to shield his eyes from the sand. He's slower than the others because of his leg and I'm brought back momentarily to the beach in four before I erase that image from my mind.
I'll keep that a happy place.
"Jo," Finnick calls. "I can see green. Head towards the trees! Straight ahead!"
They clamber on and once the three of them push through the thick branches they fall to the ground, spitting sand and rubbing at their eyes.
"Get up," Peeta says after a few minutes. "Be ready. There might be something in here."
Finnick positions his trident in front of him while Johanna stands up, fingering her axe. As the three of them head deeper into the forest I ask Haymitch without taking my eyes away from the screen.
"Where is everyone?"
I hear him sigh behind me.
"Your sister went to school. She had to. Mandatory," he explains. "The Undersee girl left while you were still awake, remember? And tall, dark and handsome is probably in the mines," he says tipping his flask back to take a sip. "God knows where your mother is," he adds.
"Why are you still here," I ask. I mean for it to come out sharp and biting, I'm still mad at him, but the end of the sentence ends somewhere in my throat. I look back at Haymitch but he's staring at the screen, watching as Peeta rubs at the seam of his prosthetic. I join him, already accepting his non-answer, so when he speaks I'm slightly surprised.
"Because you two are all I've got," he says. The blood pounds in my head and I don't look back to him.
After some time Peeta, Finnick and Johanna reach a very shallow stream. I don't think there are any fish in this one—you can see straight to the bottom. It can't be more than a foot deep. Peeta takes the arrows out of the sheath and hands it over to Finnick, who gathers some water, tastes it, and deems it drinkable.
"What's with this arena?" Johanna asks, frustrated.
"What's with your bad attitude, missy?" Finnick retorts as he passes the sheath to Johanna. She ignores the comment.
"Did I tell you about the time Johanna got so drunk she actually smiled, Peeta?" Finnick asks and Peeta raises an eyebrow, smirking.
"That must have been magical," Peeta says, taking a drink from the newly filled sheath.
"Yeah, well did I—" Johanna begins to retort but is cut off a blood-curdling scream. Peeta drains the sheath, stores the arrows and pulls the bow off his shoulder. The three are silent, ears trained for the source of the sound. The screen on the television cuts into two: one focused on the trio, the other focused on the woman from nine, bright red hair flying behind her. She's followed closely by some sort of massive black cat that's emitting such grotesque screeches that the hairs on my arms stand on end. I hold my breath.
The screens becomes one again as the woman from 9 tumbles into view followed by the enormous cat, teeth bared and ripping at her heels.
"Shoot, Peeta!" Finnick yells over the noise. Peeta falters. They're not close enough for him to hit the monster and I know he's scared of hitting the redhead. Johanna braces herself for another attack, looking wildly around for another cat but as of now, this is the only one.
"Wait," Peeta says under his breath. He pulls the arrow back and once the two of them—woman and creature—come within 20 yards, he releases the string.
He misses.
"Shit," he mutters, but he's already got another arrow pulled back and when he releases this time, he hits the cat on the side, sticking between the ribs.
The cat lurches to the side, growling angrily, giant amber eyes flicking to it's new wound. It gets up more slowly this time, it's new target Peeta and not the woman from 9, who is now silently pressed against the trees. The cat moves closer, stalking, ears pressed against it's enormous skull. Slowly it moves towards Peeta but he waits, arrow aimed at the cat. I want to yell at him to just shoot already and just when the cat's no more than 15 feet away, Peeta lets it fly, this time hitting a spot deep in the cat's neck. It would be an impressive shot but the look in Peeta's eyes tells me he's just as shocked of his good aim as I am.
This hit was deadly and blood drips down the cat's neck in heavy rivulets before it collapses on the ground.
Peeta's strung another arrow before he looks to Johanna and Finnick, both at a loss for words. Finnick is just about to open his mouth when there's another deep growl from somewhere around them.
Heads swivel and suddenly it's not one growl but two, three, maybe four, coming from all around the tiny stream where they still stand.
The woman from 9 remains completely silent against the tree, eying the stream like some sort of salvation. This is when I realize she has been stuck in the desert since the cornucopia, weaponless and too frightened to venture into any of the trees by herself.
Her thirst is too much, apparently, and she crawls her way towards the stream on heavy arms, neck craning.
No one moves to stop her and that's when they strike.
Nine dies immediately, one of the enormous black cats shaking her neck back and forth until it hangs at an ugly angle from it's mouth. The cannon booms.
Finnick hurls his trident straight for that cat that has cornered him and it lands with a satisfying crunch through its jaw. Johanna is cautiously approaching one of the things, circling around it warily. They're slippery creatures, agile and hard to catch at a bad angle.
Finnick is already pulling his trident from the cat's skull and moving on to the next one. But all of this has been in the periphery of my mind because the only person I can really focus on is Peeta.
It seems my muscles have hardened to rocks and I grip the arm of the couch tightly. He has barely any time to prepare for the beast's lunge before it's on him. Claws meet flesh and Peeta cries out as the cat rips open the wound on Peeta's shoulder. He kicks it hard under it's belly and the cat screeches.
The arrows are useless at this point so Peeta finds the dagger tucked safely into his belt. Not before the cat swipes again, though, grazing his cheek and neck. Peeta gasps out a curse, struggling to get the cat still enough to strike.
Finnick has finished off the second cat, this time with a trident to the spine, before he shouts something at Johanna or Peeta—I can't be sure. Johanna is struggling with her cat. She's sliced it a series of times and has weakened it considerably. That's probably why Finnick rushes to Peeta. The sudden movement distracts the cat enough for Peeta to thrust his dagger into the cat's jugular, running the knife through the skin to deepen the wound.
The cat makes a gurgling grunt, spraying blood everywhere—coating Peeta completely—before collapsing heavily on top of him. Finnick turns quickly and casts his trident straight into Johanna's cat, killing it instantaneously.
There is a moment of silence and all is quiet. Johanna and Finnick breathe heavily and share a look while Peeta heaves the dead cat off of him, crying out in pain. The camera pans to his shoulder and I'm suddenly sick.
This cut is deep. Not deep enough to see bone, not like the cut that cost him his leg, but deep enough. Deep enough to bring me back there, finding him in the mud, the gash on his leg tattooed behind my eyes. My mind races as Finnick runs to him. It's hard to even see where the cut begins and ends because of the amount of blood Peeta's covered in. It reminds me of the night of the announcement when I found him covered in paint in his studio.
I haven't realized my hands are shaking.
"Come here," Finnick says, taking Peeta's uninjured side, lifting him onto his feet, which are miraculously still fine. The sudden movement is too much for Peeta though and he stumbles, landing into the stream.
"Well, that's where we were going wasn't it?" Peeta breathes. No one laughs.
Johanna has cleaned her axe and Finnick's trident. She walks towards the trees, grabbing moss quickly, before returning to the stream. Peeta's completely submerged, save his head, and the blood comes quickly from his shoulder.
"Get him out. We need to cover his shoulder," Johanna says. Her fish bite from yesterday is nothing but a large scab today. Finnick nods, lifting Peeta into a sitting position and Johanna starts wrapping.
"How do you feel?" she asks him, voice hard and monotone. Peeta nods wordlessly, still shaken up.
"Alright," he murmurs. "I'm alright, actually. I don't think I can shoot that damn thing for a while, though," he says, pointing to the forgotten bow.
"Well you were surprising good with it for that short time," Finnick nods with a smile. I can't tell if he's relieved. I don't even know why they're still allied with Peeta because now would be a very good time to leave him. He's vulnerable, injured.
But they stay, quietly taking turns drinking out of Peeta's sheath. I've subconsciously counted the arrows—11. The only one lost was the one he missed when he shot at the cat the first time.
"Last time it was giant dogs," Peeta says after a while. "This time giant cats. I'm beginning to think the Gamemakers don't want me to have a pet."
"They don't want you to have anything!" Johanna snaps. Peeta's eyes widen at her outburst. Johanna is one for short words and mean comments, yes, but nothing like this. Nothing so openly…rebellious.
"And once you do, they'll take it away. I wouldn't be surprised if they've already taken Katniss, Peeta. Taken her away. Forever. And if you win, and you go back…watch how she won't be there. She'll be gone."
Finnick stares at Johanna with wide eyes but Johanna just stares at Peeta, pale and slightly crazed. Peeta's gone completely still, the color drained from his face.
"Jo," Finnick says soothingly, though his eyes are giving off a strange warning. "You're dehydrated. Drink this," he continues, offering the sheath to Johanna who is still visibility upset. She shoves the sheath away, spilling water over Finnick's jacket.
"It's true! It's true and you know it, Finnick! What did you have, huh?" Johanna is shouting now, her voice ringing through the trees. For a moment, Finnick's face turns completely blank. But the moment is gone before I can truly realize it was there to begin with.
"You have a cut on your leg, Jo," Finnick whispers, voice oddly fragile. "Sit down. I'll get you some moss."
Johanna flinches momentarily and then sits next to Peeta at the stream. His face is still pale and his eyes are glassy.
"I'm here!" I want to shout at him. "No one's taken me. I'll be here when you get back! I'm waiting for you, you stupid boy!"
But he's not stupid. Not at all. Because he knows the thought of the Capitol, of Snow, ripping me away from here for no reason other than to hurt Peeta doesn't seem too strange. It's right on target, actually.
Johanna glances at him before adjusting the moss on his shoulder. She doesn't apologize but she takes his hand and squeezes, not letting go until Finnick comes back to tend to her leg.
Prim makes me eat again at nightfall. Madge has come back. So has Gale. Haymitch hasn't left from his straight-backed chair behind the kitchen. I haven't left from my seat on the couch. Mother has yet to make an appearance.
During Peeta, Finnick and Johanna's downtime they show clips we've missed while tuning into District Relevant Programming.
Gloss and Enobaria are still allies. They're camped outside of the outcropping of trees next to where Peeta is. They've had their fair share of troubles as well. The sandstorm blinded Gloss in one eye and the jungle they're currently outside of contains jabberjays that imitate the voices of people. Enobaria was relatively unaffected by this little trick but Gloss ran around, knocking himself unconscious in an effort to find whoever it was that was calling his name.
Chaff, who I forgot was still alive, was extremely dehydrated but found his way to the forest with the aggressive fish. That's where he is now, with multiple, really ugly bite wounds to his face.
The man from 3 is current outside the same forest as Peeta and his allies. Apparently he never went in completely after the sandstorm. He's in relatively good shape, actually. He's been eating the leaves off of the trees on the outskirts of the forest and has been sucking on roots for water. It's not great but he's still alive and virtually unscathed. Because he's smart. He's been circling the perimeter for some time, apparently waiting for the proper moment to come in. But it's dark and, not trusting these trees anymore than they did last night, the trio has decided to leave.
Johanna almost slices the man in half when she sees him but for some reason holds back.
"District 3," Johanna taunts. "Give us one good reason we shouldn't kill you now."
Johanna touches her axe and gives the man a sweet smile but Finnick steps forward.
"Because he's somehow managed no wounds," Finnick says simply. "He's still alive and doesn't seem to be dehydrated or hungry. How'd you manage that, Beetee?"
The man named Beetee's pale skin has taken on a red tinge from being out in the sun for such long hours and he looks preoccupied, which is normal I guess, given the situation. Peeta looks between the three of them, unsure of what to do. His shoulder is still wrapped tightly in the moss.
"Common logic," Beetee says softly. "It's all pretty simple if you think about it," he continues and Johanna narrows his eyes at him. Beetee backs away.
"The desert is a wasteland, but relatively safe. The trees hold food and water but are dangerous. Very, actually," he says, eying Peeta's shoulder and Johanna's leg. Finnick has a couple of scrapes on his face and neck as well. "I'm weaponless, unlike you three, so I'd stand no chance in the forests. I've been eating the leaves on the outskirts, listening at night for signs of trouble."
Peeta swallows and shares a look with Finnick.
"I know we need to get to those mountains," Beetee continues. "The Gamemakers will just drive us there by themselves. It's what happened this morning with the sandstorm. They're driving us closer."
"Why there?" Peeta asks.
"Hard to tell. Although I'm sure it will be a spectacle, what with the entertainment value," Beetee muses.
"You still haven't answered my question," Johanna scoffs. "Why should we keep you alive?"
"Because I know the fastest way to those mountains. And if we get there before the others we'll have an advantage. We can size up the area, become familiar with it. Plus you three are the largest allied group. Chaff, from District 11, is still by himself. Then there are the Careers."
"Where are the Careers?" Finnick asks.
"Probably in the trees somewhere to the right. Not in here, though. I've circled a few times."
"I think we should keep him," Peeta says.
Of course you do, I think.
"I don't think he's lying about the mountains—it only makes sense," he continues. "Why else would they put them here? Also, it's true that it would be advantageous to get there first. If we could familiarize ourselves with the area it could only work to our benefit."
Johanna is scowling deeply and Finnick looks resigned. Peeta, with his logical words, wins again.
"Alright," Finnick agrees. "As soon as the sun rises we'll go. It's not safe to wander around in the dark. And we're not going in there again," he says, pointing to the forest behind him. "I know there are more of those damn cats and I'm not about to try and fight them off in the dark."
Johanna huffs and plants herself in the sand a few yards from the trees.
"You go collect the shit for the fire, 3," she says. "Make yourself useful."
Finnick goes to help Beetee and Peeta arranges the weapons next to Johanna, wincing as he sits down.
Johanna arranges herself delicately, careful of how she folds her leg.
"Does your shoulder sting as bad as my leg?" she nearly whispers. Peeta pauses before answering and in the setting sun it's hard to see his expression.
"Yeah," he responds. "Too much. I feel kind of nauseous as well."
Johanna's eyebrows come together and she begins lifting away the moss on her leg only to reveal an angry looking cut, tinged greenish-yellow on the edges. It's not normal. Not at all. She replaces the makeshift bandage and peels back Peeta's. The same.
"I guess I should have known those wouldn't be like regular cats," Peeta jokes, failing miserably at trying to lighten the situation. It's hard to joke when you've been poisoned.