A Dangerous Game

Chapter Ten: Burnt

Blaine refused to watch the tributes that were projected into the sky that night, not able to bear the guilt of his sister's death. Puck and Harmony were the first to appear and Chelsea was last, hanging in the sky for a few moments before her face disappeared from the world forever more. Kurt felt a pang of sorrow; he had only known the girl for a short time, but she had been his friend.

Kurt and Blaine had found a small wooden cave formed by a tangle of roots. It wasn't much shelter from the whipping wind, and they had lost the blanket, but it hid them from sight. Blaine was huddled in the corner, his back to Kurt as there wasn't much room. Kurt knew that he was crying because every so often he would sniff and there would be a slight ruffling in the leaves as he moved his hand to wipe his eyes. He couldn't imagine what Blaine was going through. He had lost his mother, but at the time he was so young that he hadn't truly understood death; he hadn't understood that she was permanently gone until several years later.

He tried to snuggle closer to Blaine, wanting nothing more than for him to stop crying. Blaine startled at his touch, turning over to face him. Silently he buried his face into Kurt's jacket, Kurt's arms tight around him.

The first thing Kurt realized when he woke up was that Blaine was no longer in his arms. He sat up, blinking sleep out of his eyes. "Blaine?" he called as loudly as he dared, looking around, "where are you?"

"Hey!" Kurt jumped, sighing in relief when he saw Blaine poking his head into their hiding place. "I'm glad you're awake. How's your ankle? I realized that we didn't treat your cut last night."

"It hurts," Kurt admitted, glaring at his ankle. "Are you okay?"

"I'm managing," Blaine said quietly. He sat by Kurt's feet, taking his ankle into his lap. He held up a small silver canister which was attached to a slightly torn parachute; a gift. "This came last night." Blaine twisted off the lid, dabbing some of the cream onto Kurt wound. Kurt hissed, but the pain was soon relieved by the medicine.

Kurt sniffed, "What's that smell?"

"I was going to let it cool but…" he went outside, returning with a lump of meat on a stick. He proudly handed it to Kurt.

Kurt wrinkled his nose, "What was that?" the meat was so burnt it was unrecognizable.

Blaine looked down at his prize, "A rabbit. I caught it."

"It looks delicious," Kurt lied, tearing off what could only have been one of the creature's legs. It tasted horrible, yet still managed to be better than the jerky they had been surviving on. After they finished eating, Blaine stashed the remains of the rabbit in the jerky wrapper. Kurt nibbled on a piece of sweet dried fruit, the packet of which they hadn't touched up until now, to get the taste of burnt bunny out of his mouth. Kurt took a sip of water, handing the bottle to Blaine for him to finish off. They would need to find more water soon.

"Your ankle looks better now," Blaine said, looking at the wound, which thanks to the cream was now starting to scab.

Kurt studied Blaine's face; there were tear streaks on his cheeks, fresh ones layered on the dried ones from the night before. "I'm sorry about your sister," Kurt whispered.

Blaine was silent for a few moments, "I promised my parents, I would help her get back home. She is… was their little baby." He sighed, "And they already have a perfect son, Cooper," he said bitterly.

It dawned on Kurt that Blaine's parents had never expected, nor wanted their son to be the one to return. He took Blaine's hand, squeezing it gently. "You had nothing to do with her death. That snow was so thick… I couldn't see a thing, could you? It could have been any of us."

"It was almost you."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "It was just my ankle. Come on we should get moving."

By the height of the sun in the sky, Kurt could see that he had majorly overslept. No harm was done by that, however, and the day had been peaceful without a single glimpse of another tribute. The wind had gentled and the day had become deceitfully calm. Kurt kept up a cheerful chatter in an attempt to distract Blaine, although he was quite sure that Blaine was not paying much attention.

"So then Rachel and I were…"

"Quiet, Kurt!"

Kurt glared at him, "I know it's a boring story, but you could have let me finish…"

Blaine held a finger to his lips, "Listen."

In the distance there was a faint crackling that at first sounded like bare feet on gravel, then, within a few minutes turned to the unmistakable sound of a wild fire. Kurt turned around, his eyes wide, "Where's that coming from?" The sound seemed to be echoing from all around them.

Blaine looked to the skies. Birds were flying overhead, in a panic as opposed to in formation. Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand dragging him in the direction the birds were flying. They ran through the forest, branches scratching by their faces and arms.

Glancing over his shoulder, Kurt could see the flames gaining on them. The roaring inferno was engulfing everything in its path, giving them nowhere to go but forward. The heat began as a tickle then started to become so tortuously uncomfortable, feeling as if it was trying to cook them alive, which of course was its purpose.

A cannon shot went off. Quietly Kurt thanked the birds; without their warning that cannon could have been his or Blaine's. The trees gave way to rocks and then sand; a grand lake was strewn out in front of them. Kurt and Blaine plunged into the cold water, grateful for the release from the heat. A wall of fire surrounded them, consuming the trees. Kurt and Blaine treaded water, keeping hold of each others hands. Although it weighed him down, Kurt managed to keep hold of the backpack. He still had his sais, but Blaine had dropped his sword when they were running and it was doubtful they would find it again.

Both were exhausted from running through the woods, and even more so from the effort of staying afloat. Kurt felt the strain in his legs; he clung onto Blaine to stop from sinking into the depths.

"Are you okay?" Blaine gently brushed Kurt's wet bangs off his forehead.

"Tired," Kurt admitted.

The fire was starting to pass them, leaving the charred remains of what only yesterday was under snow. Could this only be the third day in the arena? Fourth perhaps. So much had happened it all seemed to merge together.

They swam slowly back to the shore, collapsing onto the sand. Kurt panted, his limbs exhausted from treading water for so long. He rolled onto his back, enjoying the heat emanating from the ground. "Do you just want to stay here tonight?" he asked, turning his head to Blaine.

Blaine was stretched out on the sand, "We could. All the other tributes are probably far enough away by now." He leaned over, lazily placing a kiss on Kurt's lips.

Kurt ran his hands through Blaine's hair, which was now officially freed of whatever gel it had retained over the last few days. He deepened the kiss, Blaine eagerly granting him access to his mouth and tongue.

Neither had the energy to go any further, however, so they settled for lying in each others arms.

As the night took over, the face of the tribute who assumably was the one whom had died in the fire was projected in the sky. It was Tina from District Seven.

"How many are left?" Kurt whispered.

"Besides us…" Blaine thought for a moment, "Both tributes from District Four, Ten, and Eleven. That little girl from Five, what's her name?"

"Becky. And Rachel is still out there somewhere."

"So that leaves," Blaine was keeping count on his fingers, "Mike Chang, Quinn Fabray, of course Sebastian and… who am I missing?"

"Mercedes Jones," Kurt supplied.

"Fourteen, including us." The Games had only just begun.