Note: To all my loyal readers I am so sorry it has taken me this long to update. Some unexpected things came up and I haven't had the time, but here is the next chapter! I hope to update again soon as Captured Tribute begins to come to an end. Thanks to everyone for your support and comments. Every comment is what motivates me to finish this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter and come back for the next!
"I thought it was you. When I heard the canon…I thought it was you."
"Ronen." I whisper as I run through the pouring rain.
Fat raindrops hammer my head, falling into my eyes and blurring my vision. Still I continue running, the remnants of his warmth against my lips pushing me forward. My pulse pounds in every fiber of my body, matching the beat of every step I take. I feel as if I can't breathe and yet at the same time, at the same time I have never been more alive.
It is enough that I nearly forget the games, but it would be foolish for me to do so. I knew that the moment something felt right, the moment when I felt that I could live, is the moment they would find a way to take it from me.
The forest around me briefly blazes with white light and a crack of thunder vibrates the air seconds later. I swallow, digging in my heels as I climb a steep hill only to slip in the mud. Grabbing onto nearby tree stumps, I pull myself up with another flash of lightning. Water runs down my face in streams and I gasp, my breath culminating in heavy vapor clouds in front of me.
Lightning strikes again when I regain my footing and the clap of thunder chasing it is nearly in synch with the jagged line of white heat. I smell something burning. Smoke drifts waste high from my left and I look to see what is left of a sapling standing three yards away. It is split down the middle, the blackened wood peeling backwards like the petals of a flower and burning with dark red embers.
Slowly the embers are put out by the rain and I flinch back from a bolt of electricity touching down just a few feet away from the sapling. Thunder rolls on top of it, instantaneous in how close it is. Twin ropes of lightning strike with barely a breath in between, one in front of the sapling and one blocking the way I had just come from. They are getting closer.
The hairs on my arms begin to rise and I turn to run in the opposite direction. I don't get far before my path is blocked by lightning touching down only two steps ahead.
Time slows as the adrenaline pumping through my body rises. I see the jagged path of blinding light meet the ground, beautiful and terrifying at once. The heat of the energy follows quickly and I feel my skin burn, tightening and cracking in some areas. Dirt flies up from the ground, the force of the impact throwing me back through the air.
Smoke is the first thing I smell, then burning flesh. My flesh.
There is a heavy ringing in my ears, almost a continuous whine that blocks out all other sound. I open my eyes dazedly, my face lying parallel to the ground. The rain has stopped and the wind is chill in its absence. I see my arm stretched out before me, a pale red band running along the inside of my forearm. I can only imagine what the mark would have looked like before the rain had healed it.
Sluggishly I roll my head forward and the world seems to tilt with the movement, making me dizzy. The ringing continues and I stare listlessly at a cloudy night sky, wondering whether or not I was dreaming. Or was I dead? The taste of hot copper in the back of my throat assures me that I am still alive.
My hearing clears slowly and I begin to focus on my surroundings. The sky draws my attention anew and I realize a face hangs above me in the sky. It is the face of a fallen tribute.
I feel my chest heave and my heart pound as it understands who it is I am staring at before my mind can. A sob breaks from my lips. Ronen.
He watches me with a crooked grin, his coal black gaze smoldering in the clouds. It is like he is looking right at me, his eyes intent on reading everything that was before him. It was the same look he had given me when we first met. It was the same look when he had saved me in the beginning of the games and when he had kissed me the moment he knew I was safe.
"Ronen." I moan, his name slipping out aloud.
When did it happen? It doesn't matter. He is gone now and he is never coming back.
How did it happen? Engle Arons. Whispers a cruel voice and I shudder, convulsing as I try to fight the sobs clawing inside my chest. He did this to Ronen, just like he killed Justin and everyone else in these games. All because he wanted to get to me.
Ronen's face disintegrates above me, the process taking much longer than usual. There is not a doubt in my mind that this is meant to hurt me and it works. I am reduced to trembling whimpers, but I clap a hand over my mouth, shutting my eyes against the tears. They can't see me like this. They can't know what he had become to me.
"Why?"
The words we had spoken just minutes before surface as I push myself up from the ground. Every part of me fights the instinct to move, desiring to just lay there forever.
"Because I can't die without you knowing."
"How—how long?"
"Always."
"I know." I whisper, turning onto my knees and bowing to the ground. "I just wish I knew sooner."
Biting my lip, I stand with clenched hands and look up to the sky. Sheet lightning crackles within the clouds, never touching down, but growing stronger. It is a warning…A warning for me to move, to continue the games.
I turn my gaze to the hill that held the cornucopia, its slopes peeking out between the trees not far from where I am. Thunder rumbles above, adding to the gamemakers' warning of danger should I not continue. Briefly I run a hand along the mark on my arm and watch my hand twitch from the contact.
Turning, I find the smoldering blade of the dagger Ronen had given me. I grab it, the heated metal biting into my skin, the handle now molded perfectly to my grip. Flipping it to my other hand I grit my teeth as it burns me and start off for the hill.
I keep my pace slow; unaware of what I might find when I reach the cornucopia. Engle could be there or the girl I had spared earlier that night.
Henna. I recall her name like it was from a dream, a dream where Justin was alive…A dream where I still had hope.
My feet find the grassy slopes before I realize it and I climb. The hulking shadow of the cornucopia looms above me, the storm held at bay around it. Clouds, bloated with rain and sparking with electricity, swirl angrily in the sky. Their vapors meet in the center of the arena, pinpointing the exact location of the hill.
To my right, through my peripheral, I see lightning strike somewhere in the forest. It touches the ground repeatedly, drawing nearer to the hill. Someone is coming. Someone is being herded to the place where it all began. This is where the final battle would happen.
I crest the hill and see a fire blazing at the mouth of the cornucopia. A figure hunches close to the flames, rocking back and forth in aggravation. I hear murmuring, the light tones of a female. Gripping the dagger, I come closer until I stand directly in front of the girl. She doesn't look up, doesn't even react to my presence. Henna just continues to rock on her heels, her arms wrapping around pulled up knees.
"Henna?" I say.
Nothing happens and I crouch down beside her. Glassy eyes stare into the flames without blinking and I wave a hand in front of her face and again I get nothing. I look around to find what caused her to be like this, half expecting to see Engle standing nearby. When I sit back, my hand brushes the metal lining of a capsule and I pick it up.
A large 2 is carved into its surface and I realize that this is part of the tribute feast. The egg shaped capsule is open and I shake out a thin roll of parchment into my hand. A bottle of alcohol follows and I place it gingerly to the side, confused by the presents the gamemakers had given Henna.
I start to unroll it and tight fingers take hold of my wrist, startling me. Wrenching back, I bite down a scream and look at Henna. Her gaze hasn't moved from the flames and her hand slowly retreats when I drop the parchment. I run a hand over my hair, trying to calm my racing heart.
"What the hell is going on here?" I murmur.
Henna's eyes jerk towards me, somehow triggered by my question.
"In the shadows they will crawl." she says, her voice clear and monotone. "Thirsting, hunting for your fall."
She turns her head, the act reminding me of the creepy dolls in horror movies. I shift back a step, but she doesn't attempt to follow. Henna takes in a harried gasp and continues in the same voice.
"Keep them at bay with fire at night until the last ember loses its bite. You can run, you can hide…But they will come on all sides. In the shadows they will sigh, thirsting, hunting 'til you die."
Her face cracks, a grotesque smile stretching her lips and she begins to cackle. I back up another step and she throws herself on top of me, tackling me to the ground. We struggle with each other, rolling dangerously close to the flames. Sweat dots my brow as the heat bakes our skin and I kick at her legs to remove her. She holds on, curling her fingers into my arms with the same awful smile twisting her face.
"Do you hear them?" she shouts. "They're coming in the whispers. They're coming for me!"
Henna knocks the dagger from my hand and begins hitting me against the ground. My head lands heavily several times and each time I feel a tight pinching, a pin prick to my skull. It dawns on me for the first time since entering the arena. Prema had given me a weapon that no one else knew about.
Reaching up, I manage to dislodge a needle holding my hair up and prick the side of Henna's neck. She stops immediately and sits back, the needle still sticking out of her neck. I turn on my side, gasping in the sudden halt in our fight. Touching the back of my head, I draw my hand away dotted with blood.
"What…the hell." I gasp.
"They're demons."
I look at Henna who, for the first time, sounds lucid. She is staring at the flames again and she draws her knees up to her chest.
"They're nameless demons that live in the wild around Panem. They are a myth shared by the second district, told to keep us from leaving our borders. That is what's on the paper they gave me." She laughs again, but closes her eyes as tears stream down her face. "That's what they give me for the tribute's feast…An assurance that I am going to die."
"But if it's just a myth…?"
"Then why am I so afraid?" she says. "I know they're coming, Emma Price. I can hear them calling my name."
I pause. "I can't hear any-"
She hushes me softly and opens her eyes. "Listen."
There is nothing at first and then, gradually, I begin to hear their whispers. It is like a breeze, their voices brushing over the grass just outside of the fire's light.
"So soft, so precious, so easily scared. We see you; we want you, Henna Conair."
Her name is repeated, sometimes hardly a whisper and sometimes nearly in a speaking tone. Goosebumps are drawn along my arm and I scramble to my feet, searching the darkness. Nothing can be seen except for the flashes of lightning coming closer, guiding Engle to the hill.
"Don't fight, don't hide, come by our side. Give in, let go, and then you will know."
"Know what?" I ask. "What will we know?"
"Death."
I look and see Henna standing near the edge of the light, reaching a hand out to the darkness. Racing to her side, I wrench her back towards the fire and make her sit, grabbing my dagger from the ground. Walking to the line between darkness and light I begin to gouge the earth with the blade, tracing the perimeter.
Grabbing the bottle of alcohol, I pour it into the dirt of my ring until there is nothing left. I toss the bottle over the crest of the hill and listen for it to hit the ground. There is no sound, like the bottle had been swallowed whole by the unseen creatures. Shivering, I trace back to the fire and grab a flaming branch.
"In the shadows we will sigh. We thirst, we hunt."
"Until you die." I finish, throwing the branch onto the damp ring of earth.
The ring catches fire instantly, the hungry flames traveling around the ring until I am surrounded. I turn back to make sure Henna is still sitting, but she is no longer there. The whispers grow fervent, excited and I see the girl standing just outside of the fire. Light protects her back, but her front is covered in shadows.
As if in a trance, she raises a hand and reaches into the darkness, laughing when she draws further in.
"Henna Conair. Henna Conair. Henna Conair!"
"Henna!"
I rush to save her, to bring her back in, but it is too late. Her body snaps forward and is drawn quickly into the night. A wailing wind flies in her absence, growing louder until I realize it is her screams. The wind threatens the flames standing around me and I back up towards the mouth of the cornucopia in terror. Then, all at once, the wind stops and a cannon is fired.
Henna's face appears in the sky; smiling, confident, and carefree. Now the games are reduced to the final two and I can barely believe I am one of them. I am one of the last tributes, just one tribute away from surviving, from living on.
There is a loud beeping and I look up.