Day 16- The Games (Day 9)
I wake to a throbbing pain in my infected right arm, and after quickly testing it out, realise it is even worse than I thought, I'm struggling to move it freely. I'm anxious to get out of the tree before it gets any worse, so I wake Fern and start to climb down.
It ends badly however, as I position myself poorly, and the strength in my arm fails me. I fall about fifteen feet, cracking a couple of branches on the way down. They slow my fall a little, but with the caveat of what I'm sure will turn into a pair of fantastic bruises, on my face and side.
"Rory!" exclaims Fern, scrambling hurriedly down after me, dropping the last ten feet, though with infinitely more grace than me, landing cat-like on all fours. "Are you okay?" she asks, stepping over where I'm still lying on the ground.
"I'll live," I groan. "Don't think I've broken anything," I add as I get to my feet with a helping hand from Fern.
"Do you want to wait a minute?" she asks, "Or have something to eat?"
"Nah, let's go," I say. Fern nods at me, and we stride off.
It's not too long before we find a tree tall enough to get a good view from, but my arm prevents me from climbing it, so I sit at the base, working on carving my branch into a staff some more while Fern does the scouting.
She returns shortly with good news; we aren't too far from the river. It's difficult to keep your bearings in the forest, and we're sure we're lost for a while, before at some point in the afternoon we stumble across the river. We gleefully drink up, and refill our bottles.
"Do we stick by the river?" Fern asks, as we sit for a break. I can tell she's thinking exactly what I've been pondering- do we move away and risk not being able to find it easily again, or do we stay by it, knowing that it increases the chances of us running into other tributes or the muttations.
"I'd rather not," I say. "Do you reckon you'll be able to find it again?"
She shrugs. "I guess if I can't I can always hop up another tree."
"True," I concur. "We'll rest up for a bit then look for somewhere to camp for the night then."
"Are you going to be able to make it up a tree?" Fern asks me. She looks worried.
I shake my head. "I don't think so," I say contritely, "it's not feeling any better."
"We'll just have to sleep in shifts then I guess," she says, with a smile. I'm thankful at her concern for my wellbeing, and willingness to put herself out for my sake, but am unable to articulate it with any more than a simple muttered 'thanks'.
"That's fine," she says, smiling at me again. "What are friends for?"
I smile back at the comment, finding myself thinking how pretty her smile is, before I realise that I'm staring for the second time in two days and look away, glancing around. The trees are quite thin here, it would be quite hard to sneak on us, and there aren't any flashing lights in sight.
Nevertheless, after what happened to Tamla I'm not about to drop my guard, so I ask Fern if she minds keeping watch while I work on my staff. She says she's happy to, so I get to work. After half an hour or the piece of wood in my hand is definitely more staff than branch. I decide to give myself an extra advantage by sharpening one end into a rudimentary spear too, which is a laborious task, but will hopefully be worthwhile.
I get the feeling eyes are on me as I carve away and Fern's sudden movement as I glance up confirms to me that she was watching me. I considering scolding her for not keeping her eye on watch, but I don't want the confrontation, and I guess I'm kind of flattered.
I hope I'm not kidding myself but I'm starting to think there really is something between Fern and I. And as much as I tell myself that the idea of anything happening between us is ridiculous, being in the Hunger Games as we are, I can't stop it hogging a good portion of my thoughts.
She, another glance up reveals, is now diligently, almost exaggeratedly, scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. I find myself looking at her again, as my hands continue mechanically on the carving. Sure she's looking a little dishevelled from 9 days in the forest that is the arena, but she really is beautiful.
"Son of a bitch!" I suddenly cry out. I'm instantly cursing myself internally twice over, both for the way my shout could draw danger to us, and for the copious amount of blood pouring from my thumb where I've sliced the end off. That'll teach me- getting distracted by a pretty girl is not a good idea while you're using a knife.
"What!" cries Fern. There is no need for me to answer with words, I just hold up my thumb. It's bleeding quite a lot, but it's only superficial. Fern can tell, and it loses me any chance at sympathy. "You idiot…" she says, though her tone is playful rather than admonishing. She takes my hand in hers to examine my wound more closely. "I guess just wrapping some of your cloth round it," she says, "otherwise you'll leave a blood trail, and I think we should move on now."
I reach for my bag to get some cloth out, but she reaches out. "Give it here, let me do it."
I'm happy to acquiesce, and she's soon tied a large wad of cloth around my thumb. It'll stop me from holding anything easily, but seeing as my right arm's pretty useless anyway at the moment that's no big deal.
"You should pay more attention when you're using a knife," she says as she finishes tying a knot. It's a simple enough comment, but there's something about how she says it that makes me think she knows I was staring at her. Is she flirting with me?
I scold myself for letting my thoughts run away, but realise that while I've been thinking she's still holding my hand in both of hers. I look up from the floor, and my grey-blue eyes meet her dark brown ones. My heart flutters at the tender look she's giving me, before she suddenly lets go and stands up.
"Come on then," she says, sounding cheery but serious, "we should definitely move."
"Agreed," I say. "Lead the way."
We talk sporadically as we walk for about an hour before Fern stops in a clearing. "Here seems as good as anywhere if we're not going up a tree."
I nod my agreement. It's still only late afternoon I think, but there's no reason to walk for the sake of it, and we don't want to get to far from the river.
We sit down and I remove the bloodstained cloth from my thumb, stuffing it back into a pocket of my backpack. The bleeding has stopped thankfully, and it's still pretty numb, I get the feeling it'll start hurting later or tomorrow.
Looking through the rest of my backpack I decide to broach a subject we've been avoiding for the past day or so. "We're gonna run out of food by the end of tomorrow," I say.
"Back to berries I guess," she says.
"Yeah. Shame there are so few animals in here."
"Most of them would be a bit quick to catch anyway," she says. "Maybe if I had a sling, but not with a knife or your staff. No offence."
"None taken," I say. "It's not meant for hunting."
"Are you even going to be able to use it with your arm?"
"Not brilliantly," I admit, "but I'm left-handed so I won't be totally useless."
We chat away for a while before a silence falls. I must have dozed off, because next I remember after that is Fern leaning over me, hand on my shoulder, and darkness has fallen. "Your turn to be lookout," she says with a smile.
"Fantastic," I say sardonically, rubbing my eyes free of sleep.
"Have a nice sleep," I say as she lies down, pulling some non-bloodstained cloth from my backpack in a vain attempt to make a pillow.
"I shall. Have a nice watch."
I chuckle at her, before shutting up to let her get some shuteye.