A/N- Note: I did change my username! It's still me ;)
Sometimes you don't know how scared you are until everything stops and you have nothing left to distract you.
And on this restless evening with hundreds of people standing beside me, my chest is tight and I'm aware of a strange pounding my ears. My sons convinced me to watch the finale in the square. And despite my reservations about crowds, they are the only thing keeping me staring up at the oversized screen. But even in my terrified state, I can tell there's something else behind the fear. A hunger, but not the kind that usually plagues the district. For the first time in years, we have hope. Our tributes might make it home - both of them. And we're going to be right beside them through this final night. Whatever happens, be it death or victory, the tributes from Twelve will have the entire district on their side.
Even before the water had been drained from the small bodies of water in the arena, Peeta and Katniss had been expecting a Gamemaker intervention. And soon enough, every pond, stream, and trickle of water in the whole arena had been abolished…. aside from the lake.
So, there really wasn't any choice but to head to the Cornucopia. They'd gone to end the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. However, Cato hadn't made an appearance all day. And now, as the blackness seeps into the square and the arena, I'm sure he'll make his move.
Katniss and Peeta rest by the lake, side by side. They're both tense, despite the lazy feel the scene might emit. They are no fools - both understand what's coming. After a while, Katniss breaks the silence with the four-note melody that Rue had sung.
The mockingjays, who've been sailing from tree to tree, now alight on branches at the sound of her voice. Katniss repeats the notes and slowly all the birds begin to take up the song.
"Just like your father," Peeta says wistfully, listening the birds warble.
For a few peaceful minutes, all that can be heard is the birds harmonizing, singing the sun to bed just like Katniss did for Rue.
And then they begin to scream.
One by one, the birds alter the melody until the song is broken by a chorus of shrieks and cries of alarm.
Peeta and Katniss pull each to their feet, weapons at the ready. Cato comes barreling out of the trees. He has no visible weapons, but he charges them anyway. And so it begins. He must have a plan - I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to run at their enemy empty handed. Unless of course, Cato's gone mad - which isn't all that uncommon in the arena. Katniss and Peeta are lucky - being alone for so long under so much stress does things to a person.
But our tributes don't seem to be Cato's priority. He runs right past them, heaving, and his face is a deep plum color.
And then, we spot it. The huge something bounding into sight. A wolf-like creature that can only be the work of the Gamemakers. This changes things. Maybe they thought it wouldn't be exciting enough with Cato outnumbered. But now, the field is even once again. Any strength numbers would have given our tributes will be meaningless against these mutts.
Katniss turns to follows Cato, sprinting towards the only shelter in sight - the Cornucopia. Peeta, catching on, hobbles after her as fast as he can manage on his weak leg.
"Go, Katniss!" he hollers, waving his hands at her. It's like they're under the tree where the tracker jackers attacked. "Go!"
That incident feels so long ago. As if it were apart of a different Games. The only thing that matters now is golden horn, the night, and these three children facing a monstrous pack of demons.
"Heaven help them," my wife presses her hands to her face, her eyes glued on the screen as Peeta begins to scale the horn. The mutts snarl and snap at his legs, but Katniss pulls him up.
The mutts rise, standing on their back legs with apparent ease. We get a good look at them for the first time. All different sizes and colors with huge teeth, salivating mouths, and razor-like claws. The horn provides an extra obstacle, but something tells me these mutts won't stop until they get their prey. As if to prove my point, one of them takes a flying leap at the horn and hangs there.
Katniss stares at the mutt for a moment, as if trying to figure something out. Then she reels and for a moment I think she's going over. Her hands begin to shake and her breath comes so fast I'm worried she'll hyperventilate. She shrieks a little, too.
Peeta's alert, looking at Katniss with just the slightest bit of terror. "Katniss?" he grips her arm. Maybe she's breaking at last.
"It's her!" Katniss half chokes.
"Who?"
She looks around wildly, her eyes huge.
Peeta now looks like he's on the verge of breaking himself. He's looking at Katniss with such a scared expression. After a moment, he shakes her shoulders, as if trying to bring her back to him. "What is it, Katniss?" he asks fiercely.
"It's them," she gets out. "It's all of them. The others. Rue and Foxface and… all of the other tributes."
Peeta gasps along with the rest of us. The horrified sounds coming from the square match those our tributes are making on the screen. They've somehow made this more barbarous. By creating monsters to resemble the tributes of these Games… it strikes home with the ones still alive. To see the kids that they knew, that were alive and breathing and… human just a few days ago -
"What did they do to them?" Peeta's voice now holds the same note of hysteria. "You don't think… those could be their real eyes?"
"Oh, oh, oh" my wife murmurs, shaking her head back and forth repeatedly. Her fury is directed at the Gamemakers. "How could you possibly do this? They're children!" she screeches. "Just children! How can you live with yourselves?"
The mutts haven't given up. If anything, they're more determined than before. They continue to hurl themselves at the tributes who are either shell-shocked or in Cato's case, still kneeling to catch his breath.
A mutt catches Peeta by surprise and he plummets. As my youngest son cries out, my heart fails for a moment. He hangs over the side as Katniss tries hauls him back up, the uneven surface of the curved Cornucopia proving difficult to scale.
"Kill it, Peeta!" she's crying. "Kill it!"
His knife's out now. When at last the blade makes contact, she's able to drag him back to temporary safety on the top of the horn.
In the madness of the mutt attack, they've let Cato slide down their priority list. As Katniss takes out another mutt, he staggers to his feet. For a moment, he stands completely still and then… the tribute launches forward and wrestles Peeta into a headlock.
Katniss whips around, arrow nocked. My son's air supply has been cut off by Cato's massive arms, and Peeta rakes his fingers across the flesh, trying to get loose. But it's almost a halfhearted effort because the mutt that almost dragged him over split open his leg. Thick, dark liquid is oozing out, soaking the shreds that were once his pant leg. Katniss has her arrow pointed towards Cato's head, but she wavers.
"Just shoot the arrow!" someone howls in the crowd.
"Kill him!"
"End this!"
"Come home!"
The cries are unanimous.
But Cato voices what Katniss must have been thinking. "Shoot me and he goes down with me."
Everything goes still - here in the square and in the arena. The Capitol must want to tension of this moment to enter the hearts of every single citizen of Panem.
My own ragged breath echoes in the sudden stillness. My mind is oddly blank. Nothing except the vague knowledge that my son is suffocating. His lips are purple, his eyes wide and bloodshot. This is the end for him. It looks like it costs every ounce of his being to raise his fingers, coated in his own blood, and make a mark on Cato's hand. An "X".
It's like they have a telepathic connection. Katniss' lightning reflexes pull the bow down and the arrow sinks into the flesh of the boy from Two.
And that's it. Peeta's released, Katniss lunges for him, and when the utter panic dies away, it's only the Twelve tributes left clinging to each other on the top of the horn. Cato's crys mingle with that of the mutts. He attempts to fight, but although valiant, is eventually overcome. As the night wears on, the mutts rip away more and more of his flesh. They drag him across the ground and into the Cornucopia. On top of the horn, Peeta's wound is still gushing and Katniss has no choice but to tie a tourniquet. His face is ashen, ghastly in the white light of the moon.
"Don't go to sleep," Katniss whispers.
They spend the night in each other's arms, under his jacket. Peeta is shaking, another sign he's not faring well. Oddly enough, it's him who keeps whispering words of comfort.
"Cato may win this thing yet," Katniss says at one point.
"Don't you believe it."
Or-
"Why don't they just kill him?"
"You know why."
No one leaves the square, sits down, or even moves. They shift and sway, the children press against their parents, eyes heavy with sleep. But we vowed to be there for our tributes and this is their hour of need. We will stay and watch this, no matter how gruesome or infinite.
As the night wears on and on, my son slips into a little bit of a daze. When his head drops onto Katniss' shoulder, she begins to scream.
"Peeta! Peeta! PEETA!" she bawls. "Peeta, wake up! Please, don't die! PEETA!"
His eyes open, unfocused but alive, and he shakes his head as if to clear it.
This happens several more times. The night seems endless. The darkness blurs together, only interrupted by the occasional scream from Katniss and the more frequent moans from Cato. But at some point, the sky begins to lighten.
Cato still hasn't died, but his whimpers are getting unbearable. I almost forget how much I want this boy dead because, to be honest, I don't want there to be anymore killing at all.
So when Katniss puts him out of his misery, I press the three fingers of my left hand to my lips and hold them out to the screen. My wife copies and soon, the whole square has adopted the gesture. Because this one, small humane act has ended this perpetual night. It reminds us that every tribute was still a child. And now most of them are dead.
The mutts disappear, the cannon sounds, but no trumpets signaling their victory. Our tributes fall to the ground, stiff and in pain. It takes awhile, but Katniss gets to her feet and then helps Peeta do the same. She lets him sip water from her cupped hands, then does the same for herself. The hovercraft takes Cato's body away.
Peeta's wound has opened again. If this doesn't end soon, he may die anyway.
"What are they waiting for?" my wife mutters.
The initial relief that flooded the square at the sound of the cannon is dissipating. Claudius Templesmith clears up the confusion.
"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games," his voice booms.
Murmurs of dissent and confusion run through the crowd. Contestants? They're victors now... aren't they?
"The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor."