Then the parachute floats down.
It lands quietly, but the noise is enough to make Finnick look up. It almost doesn't register with him that it's meant for him.
He stands warily, and quickly moves to take it. As he comes closer, he sees that it's a huge package, the largest parachute of any Games he's ever seen.
Finnick grabs it, but he doesn't look at it or open it right away. He moves back, to where he is sheltered by a cliff and can see everything and everyone around him.
He detaches the parachute, and balls it up to use later.
Now he is left with a long package. As he opens it, he glances up, just to be safe. Nothing disturbs his view.
When he sees a bit of what it is, he tears off the rest of the covering. He cups the tip of a trident in his hand. It lays in his lap for a moment, faintly catching the light, then he picks it up, and his hand slides right to where he holds his own. It fits perfectly when he stands up, coming as high as his shoulders. He can practically feel the cameras zooming in on him as he looks around with an artificial arrogant expression on his face.
The odds have just tilted into his favor. There's only six left. Five to go. One to stay.
As soon as he sits and scans the arena again, a plan begins to form in his head. He can weave some plants into a net and trap fish in it to spear them. He substitutes fish for tributes. Sea for land. How different is it, really?
The first two kills go fine. Or, as fine as murder can go. There is minimal mess and he isn't injured.
The third time he is stupid, and the girl from Ten manages to stab his foot with her blade through his net.
She smiles at him as she quickly dies, and he backs away, leaving his net. He watches from his cliff as the hovercraft picks her up and carries her away, net and all.
He finally tends to his foot. The wound is deep and stretches from his ankle to his toes. She had attempted to stab all the way through his foot, but her strength had died when she had.
Blood seems to be everywhere. It covers his foot and has dripped onto the rocks.
He knows he needs to stop the bleeding and finally he has a use for the parachute. He tries to rip it with his hands, but he can't. Either it is too strong or he is too weak. He has to use his knife to slit it. He ties the parachute around his foot and knots it to keep it tight.
He sleeps on the cliff that night with his trident in his hand.
In the morning, he watches the confrontation between the two other tributes left. It's the boy from One and the girl from Seven. She manages to strike him in the leg with her axe while he is dancing around her. Finnick pukes onto the rocks when she cuts his foot off. The other boy is a goner before she even puts the axe through his face.
Finnick knows that he must fight her directly and the capital will push them together if he doesn't fight her now. He wipes his face and goes down.
The girl stands next to the where the body laid. Finnick can see the blood. He looks up to her. She is eighteen, and he is four years younger. Surely that means he should go home. He is trying to justify killing another person in any way he can.
The fight starts slow, they circle around with their weapons pointed at each other. Finnick makes the first move, jabbing his trident at her neck. He manages to scrape a point along her ear when she ducks. He realizes his weapon will reach farther than hers will. She swings her axe at him and he jumps back. He slips on the leaves and she uses that distraction to hit him in the chest. Finnick jerks back and then uses all his strength to push his arm forward and stab her in the neck. She falls and he jerks the trident out of her and blood spurts out of the three holes. She dies after he vomits onto her.
As he stands there, he notices the callus on his hand from working with tridents so much.
He staggers away from the body.
The trident drops from his hand to land in the mud. He figures it should stay here with its victims. His own is at home, waiting for him.
He falls.
Finnick manages to untie the parachute from his foot and presses it to his chest. Dried blood is clumped all over the folds and it's more red than silver now. He lets his head fall and his eyes close as he hears the trumpets and the announcement.
The parachute is still in his hand when he hears the hum of a hovercraft approaching.
He stays on the ground but opens his eyes to look one last time at the arena. He looks past his cliff to the single cloud in the sky, then down at himself, dirty and thoroughly bloodied. But alive. And thats all that matters.
Somehow he still has it, tucked away somewhere. The only thing that came out of there with him. A silver parachute.