CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

Vetta Cordwip

"Robin of Locksley indeed!" I say to the door that has just closed behind Drake Tyler. "That boy…." I begin without finishing the thought. Drake and I go back a ways, further than that awful time before the Hunger Games began.

I'm closing on fifty-two years old: an elder by most of District 10's standard. There aren't many of us elder folk left around the Town. I could name them all counting off on one hand because we get together, sometimes, to remember those we loved who died. Mildred Hatch is the elder closest to me. She knew Iffy really well. Millie and I share tea once in a while. She helps me remember Iffigenia. No'omi Chego comes to visit more often. I knew No'omi before the forming of District 10. We were "sisters". When No'omi visits, it is always for the sake of business: she maintains a relationship with our people and revisits them as often as she can, which is more often than those in the District who have forgotten their people, by accident or on purpose. No'omi brings "presents" on her visits, as well as news from our people. "So-and-so was joined with So-and-so last new moon", "So-and-so has given birth at last!", "So-and-so are talking about moving into the District", "So-and-so is dying". No'omi never took a surname befitting of the folks of District 10, so when they registered her among the Townies, she simply gave the name Chego – her father's name – and they have her as No'omi Chego. She and I put the mortar and pestle, the grinding stone and board, and most of my supply of lantern oil to work when she visits. It is with No'omi that I remember the ways of our people. Old Caron Craddock stops over for a visit now and then too. Once upon a time, folks thought he might ask me a question that would change my life and his, but we're just good friends now. He knows what he's up against and he knew it then too, or at least my mother never let him forget it. We have wonderful chat, old Caron and I.

Oh, but now I'm being wistful, and I'm living into my identity as an elder woman. In the deep inner part of my being, where the real spirit and soul of me live in harmony, I know that I'll venture out in to the prairie one of these days and return to my people. I long to dance around the fire one last time, to chant the way we used to when I was a girl, to give my congratulations to the newly birthed child, the newly joined couple, and to remember the life of our ancestors who join with those I've known and loved who've passed on from this life to the other. Oh, but now I'm being wistful, living into my elder woman identity. "That boy…." I say again, shaking my head at the door as I bolt its locks and draw down the shades in the windows.

Upstairs in my personal rooms, I touch the little wooden carving of the Flute-player. Next to him is the Thunderbird with his magnificent red headdress. The Flute-player always scared me when I was a little girl. His figure is so lean, his hair so wild and the curve of his body is always too perfect. Mother always told Iffy and me that he was a sly character, as able to mislead you as he was to charm you with his music. And yet, we needed him in order for the cycle of life to spin. If he called you forward with his music, you were to feel honored that he had chosen you to carry on the memory of our people. If he called you forward with his charm, you were to feel honored that he had chosen you to endure the difficulties of carrying our people to whatever end. I was called forth by music; Iffy was called forth by charm. It means more to me now than it did. Someday soon I will take Moxie to the fence and we will see which calling she receives. I smile at the Flute-player and offer a silent word of thanks to him and his callings, to his guidance of me and my people, and to his blessings as they have come to us. The Thunderbird is less frightening, though a name like that ought to be more sinister. He is the magnificent creature which claps his wings and brings the rolling thunder over the skies. He comes to relieve us, a magnificent and beneficent creature. I smile to him as well, offering silent thanks for his blessings, his presence with me and my people, and his giving work to relieve us of the oppression of heat, dust and humidity with his graceful heavenly dance. I settle myself down on the same mat I have slept upon for almost fifty-two years and extinguish the lantern's light.

On the fourth day of the Hunger Games, I'm entertaining Millie Hatch who wishes to watch the Games. I know she does it out of obligation: after all these years, she's resigned herself to following the orders from the Capitol. I don't think she believes in them, but she's often said that she'd rather not cross paths with President Coriolanus Snow. The television is on anyway, so we take tea in the kitchen. The first half hour of the broadcast features a lot of talk from the commentators, and in the kitchen from Millie.

"That girl hiding in the horn, she's about the craziest Tribute I've ever seen. Definitely not a girl from District 10. Definitely not the sort of person I bed President Snow is interested in seeing survive. It's not decent to hide in the shadows and then come out at brutally, brutally murder other Tributes. I hope she dies." I scold Millie for harboring such thoughts and desires. "What? You think it's good for the Capitol to honor a Victor like her? I don't. Miss Atoka was vengeful and ruthless, and of course she's still haunted by her own shadow, but I seriously doubt that this nutcracker would be scared of anything if she won the Games. And I don't hold out hope that the brother and sister McKay are going to survive and win the Games, but I'd rather see one of them make the final four than that cracker in the horn. And I know for a fact that you agree with me, Velvetta." I can't deny it: Flicka is a very frightening Tribute. Seeing her die before the end would be a blessing, but I won't wish on it. Those thoughts do come back around to haunt you; just ask Atoka Menzies, who is always in here for something to put her to sleep.

And then we're treated to a little action. Gusset, the District 8 male, creeps upon Otari, the District 4 female as she's trying to climb through a window. He sticks her through with the short sword he's carrying, and at that moment I was ready to count her among the dead when, to everyone's surprise, the male Tribute from District 11, Betel, buries a spiked mace into Gusset's head. It's a shallow blow but it forces him to stagger and release Otari. She falls and crawls away slowly as Gusset screams in a rage. Then something happens that I did not expect: Betel gently removes the sword from Otari's body and sits her up. He tears some of his clothing and plugs the wound in her side. He produces a flask and tips it to into her mouth. At first I think he's killing her softly, but a great portion spills out from the wound in her back, and I realize he's flushing out her wound. He tears more cloth and plugs the wound in her back. As he's lifting the flask to her lips again, Gusset buries the mace into his back with what looks like brutal force. He pulls it out and continues to bludgeon the Tribute. Finally, mercifully, the cannon fires and Gusset moves away from his victim.

"These are the bloodiest Games I've seen," adds Millie Hatch. I nod in agreement.

"It would seem that the sort of progress the Capitol is interested in conducting is a sanguine progress toward gore and horror," I add to my nod. Millie steals a glance at me and then sips her tea.

"Does it bother you, then, that we are enjoying these Games over a drink of tea?" I catch her glance.

"Our people used to practice more, perhaps disturbing rituals than drinking tea while watching children slaughter each other for sport," I say carefully. "Perhaps this is the price we pay?" Millie snorts and takes another sip.

"Not too many Tributes left. It's a mercy that these Games will be over soon. Maybe we can return to our less desirable rituals." I nod in agreement. The body of Betel has been removed. Gusset returns to the spot of the kill, only to find it is clear of Otari as well. All that is left are her blood marks on the wall of the building, which the camera takes careful note of as Gusset heads off in some direction unknown.

We follow Switch, twenty minutes later, who is tracking another Career – Lutris from District 4 to be exact – as he wanders down the alley from one of the small circles featured in the beginning of the Games. He carries with him a long sword, and the effort of carrying it showcases his muscled arms. Millie has plenty to say on that.

"He's got a good face too, Vel," she says over a second cup of tea and a small helping of my infamous lemon cookies. "The girls are all talking about him. If they let him fetch a wife from the Districts, I imagine one of our girls will be trying particularly hard to be noticed. Which one, that's a mystery, but no doubt with how they're fawning over him, one of them will have a master plan to catch his eye. We've got some of the brightest and cleverest, you know that."

"I believe he has to win the Games first, Mildred," I say, matter-of-factly. "If he doesn't, our girls' guile won't amount to anything in catching a husband of a Victor. And even if he does, I'm sure District 3 has plenty of beguiling girls that will present easier – if not better – options against our girls." Millie tuts into her cookie.

"Can't a woman dream?" I shrug, watching Switch peer into an open door, then continue on when he discovers it is empty. "How old is the Prairie Dog Tyler girl? Drake's oldest?" Millie asks, out of nowhere.

"Too young for this fellow," I say, feeling a bit defensive of Moxie.

"Oh perhaps so, but she's beginning to grow into herself," Millie says back. "She's got the look of her mother about her, not to mention her father's strength. I saw her on the way to school, tugging behind that she-mule they keep. Both her sisters were on it. That's no small weight. I've seen her pick up and carry her middle sister, Sissy I think, a few times without trouble. If she's got her mother's genes, she's going to be fruitful." I hush Millie for the sake of the Games, but also for my own sake. I don't like the way she is picking apart Moxie; to me it feels borderline inappropriate. I've got a lot to teach Moxie about being a woman, I think as we watch Switch peer into another doorway, clearly thinking it is another empty room, but instead he jumps back as a short sword jabs out at him. He swats the sword away – which falls to the ground – and then pulls out the bearer by his collar. It is the District 7 male, Froe, who is discovered. We both lean in closely to catch what Switch is saying.

"Where's Lu?"

"I dunno! Don't kill me, please." That's Froe.

"Have you seen him, tell me now."

"He's not here, Switch! He's not here!"

"You'll alert me when he's near, will you?"

"I swear I will! I swear!"

Switch lets the boy go, picks up his short sword and hands it back to him.

"I'll be in that building, waiting." He points to the building across the alleyway. Froe nods. Switch stalks off to the building indicated.

"Did I miss them teaming up?" Millie asks.

"You can never know what deals are made during the Training." I suggest. "It's not always just the Careers that band together."

"Just the Careers?" Millie snorts. "I don't think they banded together this Hunger Games at all! Most of them have been picking each other off."

"Or they've been working alone." I finish for her. The camera seems to believe that something is about to happen because we're still watching the abandoned alleyway where Switch and Froe made their pact against Lutris. After ninety seconds, we see Lutris appear, stumbling into the alleyway.

"What happened to him?" Millie demands of the television, but I shush her. Lutris is about to enter the building where Froe is hiding. We see him disappear into it, then there are a few noises: one is a scream, another is the sounds of a fight beginning with a punch and the clang of a sword on concrete, and then it is followed with the sound of a sword whistling through the air and hitting flesh, which is answered with more screams. I shut my eyes and turn away from the screen – an act that Millie catches. I stick my fingers in my ears so that the ringing screams of agony cannot enter them. Millie claps her hands loudly when it is finished. I return my attention to the television. It is quiet. Lutris, painted with blood splats across his body, breathes heavily as he emerges from the building. He bears Froe's short sword. Millie gives me one of her trademark sarcastic grins. "He's dead."

I'm anticipating an assault from Switch in return, but we're all surprised – and I'm including the Tributes seen and unseen on our screen – when the cannon fires again.

The scene changes fast as we find the kill: a shock of short red hair faces the camera as its owner bends over the body of his latest victim: Otari. The camera takes us in closer and reveals that the killer is closing Otari's eyes with two fingers while using his other hand to remove the weapon he killed her with: a silver throwing star.

"He's managed to get her right in the heart," Millie volunteers as the camera focuses on the hit spot.

"By all accounts, it was a mercy kill," I say. "He's hit her directly in the heart. She'll have died quickly." I see that her wounds are still clogged by the late Betel's cloth. It seems that this particular day is shaping into a real endorsement for the Capitol's Hunger Games slogan: May the odds be ever in your favor. Frankly, the odds are in no one's favor today, and Millie reaches the same conclusion as I catch her glancing at me.

"I hope no one else dies today," she says for the both of us.

The broadcast ends two hours later. The three kills for today are all we are "treated" to, and when the Townies resume their daily lives again, Millie has taken the liberty of dozing off in her chair. I clear our trays and return to the store, flipping the sign in the window to indicate that business is open as usual. That is when I notice that there is a disturbance out in the town square. Several Peacekeepers are holding a short line of suspects at gunpoint while the Chief Peacekeeper – a man called Germanicus – barks at each person in the line. I would watch, but the sight has already triggered a memory for me, and I step away from the window and resume my position behind the counter of my shop. It isn't long before I hear the gunshots. I would have expected to hear screams of surprise and pain as well, but knowing District 10, no one stuck around to watch the prosecution. I cannot ignore what happens next.

One by one, I hear boots on the stone walkways outside and the sounds of shop doors being kicked in or bombarded by other means, and it comes as no surprise that my neighbors are visited shortly before I am visited. As it is happening, I call out for Millie, who appears moments later in the doorway. "Mildred, go home. There's been an incident in the town square and the Peacekeepers will be here shortly." She doesn't wait after we hear my neighbor's shop being entered, Peacekeepers' shouts breaking forth. A pair of Peacekeepers appear outside my shop door, and I calm but swiftly save the door by opening it before they can knock it down. The two Peacekeepers enter and one addresses me roughly.

"Where is the thief?" I shake my head.

"I don't know what you're talking about, ma'am. Thief? What thief?"

"A horse and ranch hand were taken from the Ranches last night. A complaint has been filed and suspicion has been raised that known rebels are harboring and/or may have kidnapped the horse thief and the ranch hand in question. We are given permission to search your premises if we find you as a credible suspect to this investigation, so I will ask you once more and not again, where is the thief?"

"Ma'am, this is the first I've heard about both incidents." I say with truth on my side this time. "You may absolutely search my shop and my private rooms above if you think I am being dishonest." The Peacekeeper glares at me, and I look back at her. She seems to be deciding if I should be believed. I'd hold my breath, but I know that to do that would only indicate some guilt which I am innocent of, this time. Finally, she stands down.

"You will report any suspicious behavior you see immediately to Chief Germanicus, is that clear?" She barks at me.

"Yes, ma'am. That is clear." I say back. In a militant fashion, she turns and leads her small posse out of the shop with her. I follow her to the door and see that the town square has filled with folks who are surprised at this end-of-day interruption in their lives. Deep in my heart, I offer Thunderbird a prayer that this incident of horse-thievery has nothing to do with Drake Tyler. I do not linger at my own door, closing it and returning to the counter, but I am shaking now, haunted by the last visit I was paid by the Peacekeepers. I see Iffigenia's face swim into my waking vision and I try to block her out, but it seems that I must endure this one moment of haunting. She is gone soon enough, and when she's gone, she's taken my shaking with her. I offer the Flute-player a prayer of thanks, silently, amidst a background soundtrack of breaking glass, barking orders and, yes… the all too familiar sounds of terrified screams as suspects are being pulled out into the town square.

"I suppose we live under dual threats, Iffy," I say to my sister's long-since dissipated ghost. "Those of the Capitol, and those of their lackeys."

I'm closing up the shop as the knock comes at the door. When I open it, I see Elka Tyler catching her breath in front of me. I usher the girl in quickly and bolt the door behind her. I fetch her some water to drink and sit her down at the kitchen table before I take a seat myself. "Talk to me, Elka dear. You've not run a long way here for no reason."

"It's…" she gasps. "It's… Daddy." My heart plunges to my feet. "He's not come back from work yet."

"Have the Peacekeepers been out to the Compound child?" I ask, attempting to keep my voice at level. She nods and I feel like my heart might sink into the floor. "And what have they done?"

"Nothing, Miss Vetta. They've done nothing. They're just circled around the Compound. I only slipped out before they had gotten assembled. Bess, Sissy and the boys are there though. Bess might have seen me leave." She takes a large gulp of water and then smiles at me. "We're going to be alright though, I know we are." I frown at her.

"Child, I don't think you're taking this seriously," I begin to say, but she shakes her head.

"No! It's going to be alright. The only reason they're here is because they haven't found him yet?" She seems very happy about this, but I can't understand a word she's saying.

"Talk some sense, Elka," I snap at her, my nerves finally getting the better of me. She doesn't seem phased though.

"Miss Vetta, everything is alright. They've not found him yet which means that they're not going to find him."

"Who?"I demand. "Who are you talking about Elka? Your father?"

"Nope! Even better," she says. "The boy from the Ranches."

"Have you seen him?" I ask, feeling myself begin to shake again. She nods.

"And the horse too. They came to us last night together. Only the horse was gone this morning, and the boy… well, his name is Deane and I suppose I can tell you that without any consequences… Deane had to run away on foot this morning. Bess and Moxie got in a little fight about it and after school, Moxie went out looking for him. That's when the Games went on and after the Peacekeepers came, right around supper. They're not doing anything except circling the Compound. I would have run here faster and got here sooner if it weren't for all those cowboys out there on the road."

"Cowboys? On the road?" I ask. "What are they doing?"

"Just standing there. There's about one cowboy every fifteen paces. It's kind of impressive to see them all out like that. I know they're looking for Deane and the horse he stole, but I think that if they haven't found him yet, that means they're not going to!" She drinks the rest of her glass of water.

"You sound very certain, Elka," I begin slowly, another shocking suspicion whispering in my head. I can hear flute music in the wind outside, even though it is light, and I shiver. "How?" That beautiful little girl gave me the biggest smile in the world.

"I saw it, Miss Vetta. I saw it happen, just like this." If I didn't have a strong heart, I would have collapsed right there. Please dear Flute-player, don't! Please don't make her into one of them. I plead, but the flute music in my head and on the wind only grows stronger, dancing as though the voice of the world were laughing at me from all around.