This chapter includes the only other TS Easter egg. At least, the only other one I remember. It's crazy to think I first started drafting TS almost a year ago now! I reread The Hunger Games around Halloween and then I was like alright, it's time, I'm writing this. And look where we are now.
Nolan and H come back with an unreasonable amount of fish. I guess she meant what she said earlier: he is a natural. I'm just glad that someone had some decent luck today. Peeta and I sure haven't.
We all agree that it's lunch time. Overly enthusiastic as usual, Turquoise brings out her homemade roasting spit again and starts turning a quartet of fish over the geyser. I'm half-surprised she doesn't try using her freaky-weird spear as a cooking method, because she hasn't quit messing with it all morning.
In good news, Peeta's clothes are dry. I wake him from his nap- he is weary but fully aware of his surroundings- and turn away as he puts them back on. He still seems small, as if he has drawn into himself the way I regularly do, and I stick close to him as we sit down to eat. For the first time in a long time, I get the sense that he needs me.
H sits on the other side of me. She seems to have perked up now that they've had a successful fishing trip. I know I'm the exact same way: my hunts always make or break my day. Therefore, I'm sure Peeta's near-drowning rattled her just as much as it rattled the rest of us. Maybe even more.
Turquoise convinces Thunder to roast some marshmallows for all of us to try, and we all begin to eat. I'm pleased to see the color return to Peeta's face with every bite of fish. He's still quiet, but no longer in a way that worries me.
After insisting everyone try a marshmallow (we concede that they are very good) Turquoise bounces around the circle quizzing the rest of us. I think it's fun for her. "How tall are you?" she asks Thunder, who has three or four marshmallows in his mouth and cannot currently speak.
He swallows thickly before answering in a still-moderately-choked voice. "Uh…six-four."
"Huge," Turquoise marvels. She turns to H. "What's your real name? It's not H, is it?"
H makes a face. "No. It's not."
"You don't like your real name?" Nolan guesses. "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to."
She shrugs. "Well, it's not like it's a secret. And they said it on TV when I got reaped, so if you'd been paying attention, you would actually already know."
"What is it?" Turquoise presses.
"It's Haven." H makes that same face again. "My last name is Hunt. My little brother, his name is Hiron, so we both have the initials H.H. I started going by H for a little bit of a different sound."
"Wow," Turq marvels. "You hate the letter H that much?"
"Obviously not."
"Haven's not such a bad name, though," Nolan comments. "Would you use it as a first name if you had a different last name?"
H shrugs. "Hmm, probably. If I get married, I'll definitely change my mind- not because women should submit to men, but just because I'd like a different last initial."
At this point, Turquoise crows like a rooster. I'm really not sure what point she's trying to get across, so we just move on.
"I didn't know you had a brother, H," Thunder comments. "I guess it makes sense. You seem like the eldest daughter."
She shrugs. "Well, I'm only four years older than Hiron. And he's a genius- he's never needed much guidance from big sis."
"That's how my younger sibling is too," he chuckles. "Her name is Jewel. She doesn't take anything, from anybody."
This begins an open conversation on siblings. I'm always happy to talk about Prim, and Peeta tells stories of the mischief he and his brothers got up to at the bakery. Even Turquoise shares, in a rare moment of coherence, that she has a younger sister named Daphne. Only Nolan remains oddly silent, chewing his roasted fish with unnecessary force. I don't ask him about it- it's not my place. If anything, I assume H will get through to him at some point- in Storm's absence, they have become pseudo-partners and seem to get along fairly well.
After lunch, Peeta insists he is bored out of his mind and needs to do something. Going fishing is out of the question, but I suggest we explore around our camp. We really haven't made any effort to know our surroundings, and that could easily come back to bite us in the end.
"Don't go too far," Nolan warns us. "And remember, whistle if you need us."
I roll my eyes. "We're not children, Nolan."
"You're younger than me!"
Ah. My mistake. We agree that we will indeed whistle should we encounter danger, and for the first time, we explore beyond the trees.
The snow is smooth and untouched outside of our camp- there's really nothing for prey in this arena. I'm itching for the chance to use my bow- ideally on something that's not human- but I'm not going to get my hopes up.
At first, our exploration mission yields only more of the same. A lot of pine trees. Another geyser that's substantially smaller than the one we've been cooking over, with worse-smelling steam. The most interesting thing we find is a large outcropping of rocks, with a gap in them that seems to lead belowground.
Peeta sucks in a worried breath of air. "That looks like a predator's den."
It does, but at the same time, there have been no signs of animal life in this arena so far- besides the mockingjays, I guess. I point this out to Peeta, and even though he's wary, I convince him to inspect the mound of rock up close.
"See? No tracks," I explain, circling the cave entrance. I nock an arrow, just in case. "Nothing's been in or out. It can't be a den."
"I wonder what's in it, then."
Still being cautious, we approach the entrance and look down. The path into the cave is steep, and it appears to widen out drastically ten feet down. We could easily fit inside and explore, but I have no desire to. Ever since my father's death in the mines, I've had no love for contained spaces, especially underground ones.
We find nothing else of note. More trees, mostly. A six-foot circle of rocks, but no tracks indicating they were placed for a reason. I keep an eye on Peeta, and when he begins to look tired again, I pointedly suggest we head back to camp. I don't think he likes being treated like an invalid (even though it could really be much worse) but he accepts my suggestion.
I insist he eat something, and he reluctantly warms some canned chicken over the geyser. I offer to warm it for him- he won't have it. See, this is what happens when I try to be helpful.
I am getting the sense that Peeta could use some space right now. I edge away from him and inadvertently towards Nolan, who I guess has just been pondering life the whole time we were out. Or maybe he's on guard duty. He has his weapons in hand, but then again, all of us have made an effort to be ready to fight. Even Turquoise, who appears to be rewiring her electric spear.
"Weird that Storm's not back, right?" Nolan comments when I sit beside him.
I just shrug. In truth, I've hardly thought about her. "She seemed pretty upset."
"That's normal for her," he tells me.
"Well, you'd know better than I." I make a point of phrasing it somewhat as a question, hoping he'll tell me more than what I really asked. I'm curious, about the real Storm and Nolan backstory. It's clear they know each other from before the Games, but I'm not sure what is real and what is rumor. Although, Storm did make it abundantly clear they'd been sleeping together, not that I was planning on asking about that.
He laughs. "Not that much better. Even when you've spent most of your life together, she doesn't make that much sense."
That clears some things up.
"You trained together, then?" I guess.
"Oh, yeah. For years." For a moment, Nolan looks almost wistful, as if he's entirely in another world. Again I'm struck by the sensation that I've seen him before- but how? Districts Twelve and Two are across the map from each other. There's no way our paths could have crossed before the Games.
He pauses. "…you're staring at me."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to." I gnaw on my lip. "I just…I feel like I've seen you before. Before the Games, I mean."
"Oh. You probably have." Okay, so I'm not crazy, then. I'm glad I said something. "I know I saw you before, too."
Actually, I wish I'd never brought it up.
"How could I have seen you?" I ask, hoping we can just talk about him and not me.
"My interview, last year."
Interview? Last year? My brain whirs as I search for what he might be talking about, and I gasp as I make the connection. A black-haired boy on the screen. District Two. Family interviews. "You- last year. Your brother was in the Games last year!"
"Yeah." Now Nolan sounds sad, and I regret- just a little- bringing it up. Besides Gale, everyone who was in the Games last year is dead. "Cato. He volunteered for the seventy-fourth. Third place."
"I remember," I say. I had watched the Games obsessively last year. Back then, it had all been about bringing Gale back home. Cato's death had brought me more joy than I could ever admit to Nolan. He seems genuinely upset right now. I guess it shouldn't really surprise me that ruthless Careers grieve too- even for other ruthless Careers who died nobly in battle.
Well, not that nobly. Cato had been high off his ass and thrown himself off the Cornucopia. But up until that point, he had fought very well.
"…and I'm sorry," I finish, realizing Nolan might need to hear that right now.
It's like I can see him close up. He shrugs off my condolences and turns the conversation back to me. "And where might I have seen you before?"
I glare at him. Surely the cameras will be on us right now; does he really need to bring this up? The incident he's referencing is definitely not something I want to be associated with anymore.
It's a little jolt of a reminder that Nolan is not looking out for me, and never has been.
"…I was also on TV last year," I admit. How much do I really have to say out loud? I can play this game forever. "I upset some Peacekeepers. Made an impassioned speech on a roped-off stage. Got dragged off and yelled at on live television."
Nolan just looks confused. "Hmm. That doesn't sound familiar at all."
"Could you possibly be thinking of someone else?" I try.
"No, I'm sure it was you," he insists. I know he knows exactly what he's doing. He taps a finger on his chin thoughtfully. "Wait a minute…was there a train? Or a train station?"
"Oh, I remember what you're talking about now," I reply through clenched teeth. I'm going to kill him. I'm actually going to kill him. "Last year's victor was from Twelve. They televised his return home. I was in the crowd that day."
"Oh, right!" Nolan snaps his fingers in recognition. "What's his name again?"
"Gale," I say a little too harshly. "Gale Hawthorne."
A slow grin spreads across Nolan's face. I'm giving him what he's asking for, and that's a bad thing. "Right. That guy. Jesus, the rumors that went around about you two…"
I know. Believe me, I know. My face turns tomato-red in a matter of seconds.
"Whatever you're thinking, I've heard it already," I grumble. I can't look him in the eye. "That doesn't mean it's true."
"Oh, yeah?" His raised eyebrow indicates he does not believe me at all. Nor should he, because almost all of the rumors were at one point true.
"Yeah," I lie vehemently. "It's just rumors. Not once did anybody ask me for my side of the story."
Although he still looks like he thinks all of this is funny, Nolan seems willing to play along. "Alright. What's your side of the story?"
"That I hardly know the guy!" I blurt out. "The train station thing…I still have nightmares about it…I had no idea he would do such a thing. I tried to press charges, but you know how it is…my word against a victor's…"
Nolan nods sympathetically. "Oh, you poor thing. It must have been awful having him as your mentor."
I wince a little. Sorry, Gale.
§
"What is she thinking?" Gale howls in agony. "She's acting like- she's making me-"
Haymitch is howling too, but with laughter. "Genius, genius, genius. I knew I liked that kid for a reason!"
"This isn't funny, Haymitch!"
"I think it's funny!" Haymitch has not stopped guffawing even for a second. "I can see it now, the headlines: Gale Hawthorne, sex offender!"
Gale gives up on shouting and just looks irritated. "You realize we have to deal with the fallout here, right?"
"Only for a few more days," Haymitch says with a shrug. Of course he's going to be all high and mighty about it. "And I am more than happy to let you be the bad guy."
§
Turquoise and Thunder are sparring. They're using branches as swords, since we only have the one real sword and they want it to be evenly matched. It's probably better that way. They are clearing holding nothing back, and the last thing we need is someone getting hurt. We've already had one incident today, and that's enough. As healing as it would be to watch Turquoise get what's coming to her, I don't want to have to play doctor with our mediocre first aid supplies.
That said, Turquoise is having no trouble holding her own. She matches Thunder strike for strike almost effortlessly, spitting trash talk freely. Her talent shouldn't surprise me. She's made no effort to hide it- if she had, she probably would have been kicked out of the Careers long ago.
H and Peeta root for Turquoise. Nolan and I shout our support for Thunder. I'm not completely on board with it, the whole shouting thing- but I suppose advertising our location isn't the worst thing in the world. Unless Storm has rallied every single tribute against us, I don't think we really have to worry about being defeated. Maybe it could actually be an opportunity to make some cannons go off.
For a moment, I condemn myself for thinking that way, but my guilt has no legs to stand on. Like I promised myself- like I promised Prim- I am doing what I have to do.
"THUN-DER! THUN-DER! THUN-DER!" we chant.
"HYEEEEEEEEEEE!" Turquoise trills as she swings her pine branch to meet Thunder's for the ninety-seventh time. There's a hearty thwack as the sticks clash, and they spring back just as quickly, looking for a gap in their opponent's guard. Turquoise tucks and rolls, giving Thunder the chance to swipe at her back, but she's so fast it doesn't betray much weakness. He swings too high and she's up again to strike at his side, and her branch makes contact.
"This looks fun," Nolan declares. Louder, "I'll play winner!"
H shrugs. "Find another set of branches, I'll play you right now. How do you know when someone wins a stick fight?"
"My brothers usually played, you lose when you start crying," Peeta supplies.
"The rules are probably different in the Hunger Games," I say. I could maybe see Turquoise crying as a manipulation tactic, or as an attempt at a joke, but I don't think she'd get to that point from being hit by a stick.
"Yeah, maybe you lose when your branch breaks," H suggests. She cups her hands over her mouth. "GO, TURQUOISE! GET 'EM!"
"That doesn't make any sense," Nolan argues. "If your branch breaks, that means you got a really good hit in. I think, if it breaks, you win."
"But then somebody could just smack the branch on the ground until it broke!"
"Obviously that wouldn't count!"
The argument is resolved when another form of winning is revealed. Turquoise snags the leg of Thunder's pants with her branch and makes a three-inch tear. "WINNER!" she declares herself, while Thunder complains about how cold his legs are going to be from now on.
Nolan gets up, grinning. "Alright, Turq. Let's see if you can take me, too."
As always, Thunder is a good sport and he tosses his branch to Nolan. "Avenge me, brother."
Nolan nods very seriously, as if that is exactly what he plans on doing. He and Turquoise grip their branches as seriously as if they are real swords, staring each other down fiercely. If I've learned anything in the past few days, it's that Careers are competitive as hell, and the fight being just for fun will not deter them at all.
H counts them down. She slows down to a crawl after "three", resulting in several false starts from Nolan. Turquoise, apparently, has the willpower of a god under all that crazy, because she never wavers. Not until H actually says, "GO!", at which point she springs into action. She's faster than Nolan, but he's stronger. Their branch-swords clash and swing with lightning speed, making it clear that this is not a child's game of knights in armor, but a Career's battle that would make for a gory death if they weren't using branches.
Thunder sits down beside me. He's inspecting the tear in his pants, right below his left knee. "Hopefully it doesn't get any colder out," he sighs, although he doesn't really seem that disheartened.
I nod along. "Now you see why I called spare pants the ultimate gift."
"Yeah, I'm with you now. Any chance I could borrow your spare until I get these patched?"
I don't even dignify that with an answer, just a laugh. The idea of six-foot-four, bulky Thunder squeezing into anything fitted to me is too comical to entertain, even for a moment.
This battle ends not with damage to clothing, but with Turquoise turning and fleeing the scene. "Fighting you is boring!" she declares as she scampers off. "I'll come back and finish you off later! This would be so easy if I had my trusty spear, Lightning!"
Thunder groans audibly. "Are you still calling that stupid thing "Lightning"?!"
"What else would I call it, "concentrated electric fence"?" she retorts.
"Normal people actually do not name their weapons," H points out. "I have six knives. None of them have names."
"But then how are we supposed to know which one you're talking about?" Turquoise retorts.
"I actually don't bring any of them up in conversation very often."
Nolan clears his throat. While Turquoise seems to be enjoying the banter, it's clear he does not appreciate being left in the middle of a fight. Some masculine nonsense about needing to prove himself or whatever. "Alright. Who's next?"
H steps up, grabbing Turquoise's discarded "sword". She's smaller than the rest of them; she doesn't quite look the part. But the determined glint in her eye is the same, and I realize I wouldn't want to go up against her any more than I would the rest of them.
One more thing to look forward to in the next couple days, I guess.
I really debated whether I should keep "Gale Hawthorne, sex offender" in the final draft or not, but in the end I didn't know how else to finish that conversation. And also, I got to write Haymitch dunking on Gale because of it and that's my favorite part of the story.
