One word.
DRAMA.
Third Person P.O.V, The Games
3 hours after the last cannon was shot, Cyan stumbled upon Drake. Hiding her astonishment as best as she could, she then activated her death scythe. She could feel Shinigami's confusion at not sensing the boy coursing through her mind.
'I'm sorry, Master. My radars warned me nothing of incoming danger. I have failed you.'
"No, you haven't." Cyan whispered through gritted teeth. "But you can make it up to me, by killing this guy. " The boy obviously wasn't normal –none of them was. Something about the way he walked, silent and full of grace, which creeps the hell out of her.
What she didn't expect was for the boy to turn around and started running full speed towards the other direction. He was fast, and within seconds he was almost out of view.
"What the?!" Cyan flushed with anger and followed him. But he had a few seconds head start, enough to outrun her and disappear from sight. Before he could do that, Cyan threw her scythe, shouting, "Aim for the head, Shinigami!"
Shinigami flew straight and true, target locked. It would have severed his head off, but at the last second, the boy jumped and rolled into the bushes. The only injury he sustained was a long but shallow cut on his right shoulder. Shinigami struck a tree trunk, almost cutting it into two. Cyan willed it to come back to her, cursing under her breath.
"Is he gone?"
"So it seems. I did manage to cut him though, so there should be a trail of blood leading us to him. Do you want me to start tracking him, Master?"
Cyan stayed silent for a while. "No. It would be foolish of me to go looking for trouble. Let it find me, and then the both of us will make sure we'll wipe it off the face of the earth."
"Wise as always, Master."
Drake didn't stop running until his lungs and sides burn, hair matted with sweat. He was sure that if he could still hear his heart beating, it would be pounding like a drum. The cut was still oozing out blood, sending stabs of pain to his body. Drake slowed down to a halt, rummaging inside his backpack to see if he had any bandages. There it is! He rubbed the wound with some weird-smelling medicine and bandaged it nice and tight. That's better, he thought. Now that he could think clearly, he realized how hungry he was. He had not much food left, just a few crackers and some dried beef jerky. Sadly, he didn't know how to hunt; he hadn't bothered to learn how to during his training years.
Darn it.
At least he knew some edible plants and roots. He was from District 11 after all –nevermind the fact that he was taken when he was only 6, thus his knowledge of plants is very limited. He still had to be careful though; one wrong bite and it's bye-bye to Drake Oblivion.
For now, he would have to suffice with crackers and jerky. Fearing the girl might be tracking him, Drake got up and continued his never-ending hike. He did NOT want to encounter the death scythe again.
What he didn't know was that he was about to face an even greater danger, for 20 meters away from him was Maver, who had already smelled his blood, ready to attack. Furthermore, Savannah, who had split up with Fawn after the tension had became too great, was also coming towards them, though slightly farther away. Far enough for Maver not to sense her. Yet.
Something bad is about to happen. Savannah could feel it in her bones. But what? Feeling oddly restless, she decided to relieve some stress and tension by shooting some arrows. She was in need of food anyway, and a few of those plump squirrels would help. Within minutes, five of them lay dead at her feet. They were her usual clean shots to the eye, something she had perfected during her training years. Not that she can afford not to. For one, she was about to enter a deadly competition where losing means certain death. The bow and arrow might well be her saviors. And then, there was Zeus. He would scream at her whenever she missed the target, or even resort to violence. She had spent countless hours during the day practicing, and countless night crying herself to sleep.
She missed home. Her father's twinkling eyes, her mother's sweet singing, her little house that was always filled with warmth. She remembered her mother's swollen belly, how her father had announced with pride and love that they were expecting a baby. They hadn't known whether it was a girl or a boy then, and now, there was a chance that Savannah never will. No matter. With her gone, there would be one less mouth to feed.
Suddenly, she remembered Fawn. The sweet, innocent girl who was small for her age. Don't let her size fool you though. She could cut her opponents into two using that wicked katana of hers. Not to mention her size-manipulating ability. Savannah had thought she looked as fragile as glass then, but years of training had made her stronger. Fawn had managed to build a protective wall around her fragile heart, hiding her emotions in the dark. She didn't want to get close to anybody, had even pushed her best friend away, to avoid getting attached to anyone. After all, there's a very big chance that they were going to die -her included.
That was, until Rey had been killed.
The wall came crashing down and a torrent of grief had washed upon Fawn. She had cried mournfully that day, till no more tears would come out. The next day, with her eyes still red and puffy and the trails of tears on her cheeks still visible, she had told Savannah she wanted them to go on their separate ways. The tension was too great, she had said, but Savannah suspected it was something else. Savannah tried negotiating with Fawn, but in the end, knowing it was futile, she obliged to her wishes. She didn't want to have to kill each other anyway.
And then, there was Drake. She had never seen anyone so perfect. All black hair, hazelnut eyes, and caramel-coloured skin. She sighed. The Fates are cruel, letting her fall in love when her death (and his) is inevitable. After the injections, the tributes had been locked up in separate cells, each with different training grounds, thus giving her no chance to see him for a little more than 6 years.
It had taken all her willpower not to swoon when she finally did see him. He had grown taller –obviously better-looking, with muscles that are more prominent. But there was something wrong with him. The way he moved –as if he was gliding, and the way he never talked anymore. She missed his laugh, the way it had made her heart ring like a bell. He rarely smiles now, which was a pity. What she wouldn't give to have one of those smiles directed at her.
"Enough with the daydreams," Savannah scolded herself. "You'll get yourself killed, not paying attention to your surroundings."
He was silent. Too silent for Maver's liking. If not for his heightened sense of smell, he would have missed the boy entirely. There was still a faint scent of blood coming from him. Good. He's injured. It will make killing him much easier. The smell was getting stronger by the second. He must be close now. At that, Maver unconsciously brought his hand up to touch his bandaged eyes. He wished he could still see. It's hard to rely on his other senses to judge the position of another being. He sighed. Curse that Hazard. I'll cut out his eyes, just so he can feel what it's like spending his days without his vision.
His nose wrinkled. It's time –the boy is directly beneath him. He amused himself with the thoughts of gouging out Hazard's eyes while he jumped down, landing right on top of an extremely astonished Drake.
Shit.
The one word repeating itself over and over again in Drake's head as Maver swooped down from above and crashed into him. As expected of the Silent Predator. Face landing hard on the ground, he thought, "If this guy is as good as they say he is, I'll be dead in 5 seconds."
Panic flared as Drake heard the sound of a knife being unsheathed. Adrenaline kicked in and he rolled over, throwing Maver to his side. It would be no use in trying to outrun him. He doubted he'd be able to 'disappear' like before too. Maver would easily use his sense of smell to track him down. He had one choice and one choice only. Fight.
He pulled out his dart gun, armed with poisonous darts. He had a knife strapped on his belt, hidden under his shirt, but he decided to only use it when the situation looks bleak. First shot. The dart flew, tip glinting in the sun. Maver stepped aside with ease and it ended up getting stuck in the trunk of a tree. Immediately, the poison took effect and its branches drooped, a number of leaves turned a sickly yellow and fluttered to the ground. That was how deadly the poison was.
Maver frowned, clearly thinking of what would have happened if it had hit him. Second shot. Missed again. Sweat started forming on Drake's forehead. 2 down, 8 more to go. The odds are certainly not in his favour. A small part of him mind started wondering if it was honorable to die by the hands of one of the top tributes. He cringed; dying doesn't sound fun at all.
"My turn," Maver hissed. He ran towards Drake, but instead of attacking directly, he started hopping from one tree trunk to another faster than any human ever could (that is, if they actually can hop from tree to tree), confusing Drake. Maver was only a blur now, and Drake realized with despair that he couldn't possibly predict in which direction he would attack, which means he was open at all sides.
Maver decided he should probably stop messing around and start attacking, and that was exactly what he did. He slashed Drake continuously at all sides, and pretty soon, Drake was covered in cuts oozing vermillion liquid. Coughing out blood, he shot another one of his darts, and completely missed Maver.
"When will he learn?" Maver thought, sighing inwardly. Those petty darts won't affect him at all. Not if he can dodge them, and he can. Before Drake can shoot those darts again, Maver advanced and cut Drake's chest multiple times. He then proceeded to kick him in the knee caps, hard. Drake stumbled on his back and within seconds, Maver had him pinned to the ground.
"Goodnight," he whispered in a sing-song voice, raising his dagger. Drake's eyes went wide with terror as he thrashed around, trying to get a grip on the hilt of his knife. Then, a miracle occurred. Maver stopped, ears perked up and nose wrinkling. "Such a bad timing. A girl approaches. Savannah White."
She thought she could hear something. The ringing sound of metal cutting through air. Was it just her imagination? Imagination or not, Savannah knew it was foolish of her to follow the source of the disturbance, that it was a recipe for disaster. But she couldn't help it. She felt drawn to it, as if some unknown force was urging her to find the source. Her gut told her otherwise, but then again, her gut hadn't been of much help. The noise got louder for a second, and then it stopped. It came from a clearing not far ahead. Curiosity killed the cat, and Savannah found herself walking towards it.
Newfound strength surged in his body at the mention of Savannah's name. He knew that once Maver had killed him, he would dispose of Savannah next. Thrashing even more wildly, he finally found the hilt of his knife and slashed maniacally at a very astonished Maver. Drake succeeded in cutting a short but deep cut on Maver's stomach, and as his grip on him slackened, Drake kicked him off. Not wasting any time, Drake threw a punch at Maver, and sent him flying towards a nearby tree. Leaves fluttered down as he crashed, groaning in pain. Suddenly, Savannah stumbled into the clearing. He only had time to take step forward, willing her silently to run, before the dagger struck him. Coughing out blood, he cursed himself for being so foolish; of course Maver can throw his daggers, he's a Career. His knees gave way then, and he heard Savannah's shrill screaming resounding in his ears.
I know, I know. No one died. Yet. I got tired of killing the characters, but I promise more will die in the next chapter.
At least there was a Dravannah (for those in DTCB, Winniki) scene.
And drama. Everybody loves a good drama once in a while.
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Thanks for reading my story everyone!
