It takes a while to explain the situation to Sawyer, and even longer to calm him down.
"You couldn't have known, Sawyer," I say.
"But it's not like she was out to get us. It wasn't even self defense. She was just hungry, like us. It could have just as easily been us. Well, me. You would have recognised them."
"Sawyer," grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at me. "It would have had to have happened eventually. At least she went quickly."
It's a measly attempt to comfort him, and it clearly doesn't work. I know he's going to carry this guilt with him, but we don't have time to dwell on this. I lean in and press my lips to his, hoping to give him a little comfort. To remind him we're both still here and that we're so close to going home. "Are you okay?" I ask when I pull back.
He nods. "I'll get rid of the rest," he says, going for the other berries he has piled on the piece of plastic, careful not to touch any more.
"Wait." I pull out a leather pouch that I think used to belong to Hudson and carefully gather a few into it. "It fooled that girl, maybe it will fool Herc too. If he chases us or something and we pretend to accidentally drop it, maybe he'll eat them and then…"
"Hello District Twelve," Sawyer says.
"Exactly." I put the leather pouch in my jacket pocket and zip it up.
"He'll know where we are now. He'll think we killed her and come after us."
He's right. It's just us three left now so Herc will be here soon. But we still had the meat to cook, so even if we run now, we would still need a fire eventually which will alert him of our whereabouts. "Let's build a fire, right now. Better to cook the food while we have the chance. Plus he knows there's two of us now and that you've recovered. It would be a big risk attacking us now."
Sawyer agrees with me and we get right to work. It's surprising how good Sawyer has gotten at building a fire and we have the groosling and rabbit cooked in no time. I quickly pack it us, leaving us both a rabbit leg to eat as we walk.
"We have to find a place to sleep tonight." I think about climbing a tree, but I'm pretty sure Sawyer still isn't able to.
"Can't we go back to the cave?" he asks. "It's by the water and easier to defend."
I sigh. It might be several hours of a walk back there and we'll just leave again in the morning to hunt. But Sawyer doesn't ask for much, and he's let me take the lead all morning. He also hasn't complained about his leg either which must be bothering him and I'm sure if the roles were reversed, he wouldn't force me to stay the night in a tree. It dawns on me that I haven't been very nice to Sawyer today, nagging him, yelling at him. The playful romance we sustained in that cave was virtually nonexistent now. I feel guilty, especially since it's not his fault. We're both tired and hot from the sun and worried that Herc could find us at any minute.
"I'm sorry, Sawyer," I wrap my arms around his neck. "I've been…difficult today. You didn't deserve that."
"What are you talking about, Willow?" Sawyer pulls back so he can look at my face. "You're just doing what's best for us."
"But I didn't have to be so mean about it," I huff. I lean up to give him a kiss, telling myself it's for the audience. "Let's go to the cave."
It's a long walk back and we're both exhausted by the time we reach the cave. We climb into the cave which provides much more protection from the night air than a tree would. I start to put out our dinner but Sawyer starts to drop off halfway through. After days on inactivity, the hunt must have taken a bigger toll on him. I set aside the rest of his food and order him into the sleeping bag. I'm tucking it up under his chin when he's already dozed off. I kiss his forehead, not for the audience this time, but for me, because I'm so grateful he's still here. And so glad I don't have to face Herc alone.
My mind is so alert, thinking about everything about our current situation, from Herc, and how absolutely ruthless he seems, to how close we are to getting to go home, but one little slip up and it will cost us our lives. I've let Sawyer sleep so long past when we usually switch that the sky outside has started to turn a light gray when I finally shake him awake.
He looks out in alarm. "I've slept almost the whole night. That's not fair, Willow, you should have woken me."
I stretch and burrow into the bag. "I'll sleep now. Wake me if anything interesting happens."
But thankfully nothing does, and I don't wake up until the inside of the cave is hot from the bright sun streaming in from outside. "Any sign of our friend?"
Sawyer shakes his head. "No, he's kept a disturbingly low profile."
"How long do you think until they push us together?" I ask.
"Well the audience has had enough time to place bets so they'll be getting bored soon," Says Sawyer.
"Yeah, I have a feeling todays the day." I sit up and look out of our small window. "I wonder how they'll do it?"
Sawyer remains silent. There's not really a good answer.
"Well, until they do, there's no use in wasting a perfectly good hunting day. And we should probably fill up as much as we can in case we run into trouble."
Sawyer and I allow ourselves to gorge on what's left, not enough to make our stomachs hurt but enough that we won't be distracted by our hunger.
Leaving the cave this time, has a sense of finality. I don't think there will be another night in the arena. We'll be leaving dead, or alive.
I want to wash off in the stream though, hating the feeling of grease and grime that's been building up. I'm even anticipating getting to maybe wash our clothes, eager to get to the stream. Only, when we finally reach it, it's gone. What used to be the stream is now just bone-dry, in the shape of what it used to be.
"They must have drained it last night." I fear becoming dehydrated again, even if our two almost full bottles. With the two of us in this heat, it won't last long.
"The lake," says Sawyer. "That's where they want us to go."
"Maybe the ponds will have some," I say hopefully. I really don't want to go straight to Herc.
"We can check," he says, but I know he's just humoring me. I know exactly what to expect when we reach each of the ponds but I'm still disappointed.
"You're right. They're driving us to the lake." Where there's no cover. Where they'll guarantee a bloody fight to the death where everyone can see. "Do you want to go straight away? Or wait until the waters tapped out?"
"Let's go now, while we've had food and rest. Let's just end this thing," he says.
I nod. It's funny. It feels like the first day of the games again. Twenty one tributes are dead but I still have to kill Herc. And wasn't he always the one to kill? Now it seems like all the tributes were distraction, to keep us from the real battle of the games. Herc and me.
But no, there's a boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder.
"Two against one. Should be a piece of cake," he says.
"Next time we eat it will be in the Capitol," I answer.
"You bet it will."
We stand there a while, locked in an embrace, feeling eachother, the sunlight, the rustle of leaves at our feet. Our last moment of peace, unknowing whether we will live to see tomorrow. Then without a word, we break apart and head for the lake.
We stopped to rest for a few moments at the tree where the Careers trapped me. I can't help but look up at the tree where El sat secretly perched, waiting to save my life. Tracker jackers, Lucilla's bloated body, the terrifying hallucinations.
"Let's move on," I say, not wanting to be here anymore.
Given our late start, when we reach the plain, it's already early evening. We circle the Cornucopia to ensure Herc isn't hiding in there. Then we cross to the lake to fill our bottles.
"We don't want to fight him after dark." I frown at the shrinking sun. "We only have one pair of glasses."
"Maybe that's what he's waiting for. What do you want to do? Go back to the cave?" Sawyer asks.
"Or sleep in a tree," I say. "But let's give him another half hour or so. Then we'll take cover."
We sit by the lake in plain sight. There's no point in hiding now. I lean back, listening to the bird singing. I sing the four notes and let them repeat, the sound echoing around us. I look over at my ally and Sawyer is watching me.
"El taught me that," I tell him. He nods, closing his eyes.
Then, something begins to disrupt the music. The mockingjay's voices rise up, shrieking in alarm.
We're on our feet, Sawyer with a knife wielded and me armed with my bow ready to shoot when Herc smashes through the trees and bears down on us. He has no spear. In fact, his hands are empty as he runs straight for us. My first arrow hits his chest and inexplicably falls to the side.
"He's got some kind of body armor on!" I shout to Sawyer.
Just in time too, because Herc is upon us. I brace myself but Herc runs right between the two of us with no attempt to check his speed. He's running from something, but from what?
My eyes scan the woods just in time to see the first creature leap onto the plain. Just as I turn away, I see another half dozen join them. Then, I am stumbling after Herc with no thought of anything but to save myself.
It's mutations. No question about it. But they look different to the ones that attacked Hudson and me. Bigger, scarier.
Herc has made a beeline for the Cornucopia, and without question I follow him. Even if I could make it to a tree, it would be impossible for Sawyer to climb with his leg - Sawyer! I've just made it to the metal tip of the horn when I remember I'm a part of a team. I look back and see he's still about fifteen yards behind, hobbling as fast as he can. I send an arrow, taking down the mutt closest to him.
"Go, Willow! Go!" He shouts.
He's right. I can't protect either of us from the ground. I climb, scaling the Cornucopia the best I can, but the sun has made the metal blistering hot.
Herc lies on the side at the very top of the Cornucopia, struggling to catch his breath. Now's my chance to finish him off. I stop midway up the horn and load an arrow but just as I'm about to release the arrow, I hear Sawyer cry out. I turn around and see he's just reached the tail and the mutts are right on his heel.
"Climb!" I yell, but Sawyer is hampered not only by his leg, but also by the knife in his hand. I shoot an arrow through the throat of the mutt that's just about to bite his leg. As I hit it, it lashes out, taking out some of its fellow mutts in the process. Sawyer reaches my feet and I grab his arm and pull him along. Then I remember Herc and whip around but he's doubled over in pain, more concerned with the mutts than with us. He coughs out something unintelligible.
"What?" I shout at him.
"He said 'Can they climb it?'" says Sawyer, drawing my attention back to the base of the horn.
The mutts are now gathered at the base of the horn. They all look slightly different, but there's something familiar about them, I just can't quite place my finger on it. One of the mutts leaps, attempting to grip the side of the Cornucopia and I finally get a closer look. That's when it hits me. It's green eyes glower at me, and it's unmistakably human. I spot the jewel covered collar with the number 1 engraved onto it. The blonde fur, the green eyes, the one…it's Lucilla. They're all of the tributes.
A shriek escapes my lips and I'm having trouble holding the arrow in place. Even though it looks like the mutts can't actually climb up the Cornucopia, I fire an arrow into the closest one's throat. Its body twitches and flops onto the ground.
"Willow?" I feel Sawyer grip my arm.
"It's her!" I get out.
"Who?" Asks Sawyer.
I scan the mother mutts. The reddish one must be Hudson. The smallest one is El, the white one the girl from five, the biggest one is Gus.
"Willow? What is it?" Sawyer shakes my shoulder.
"It's them. It's all of them. The others. El and Hudson…and all the other tributes," I choke out.
I hear Sawyer's gasp of recognition. "What did they do to them? You don't think…those could be their real eyes?"
The eyes are the least of my worries. What about their brain? Their memories? Have they been programmed to hate our faces particularly because we're the reason they're dead? Because we survived and they didn't?
The mutts have not split into two groups and started launching themselves from both sides. A pair of teeth ring out inches from my hand when I hear Sawyer cry out again, feel the yank of his body, the heavy weight of him being dragged over the side. They've got his leg and it takes all of my strength to keep him from going over the side. I eventually am able to pull him up but his leg is now bloody from the mutt bite.
Herc still hasn't regained his feet, but his breathing is slowing and I know soon he'll be recovered enough to come for us. To hurl us over the side to our death. I arm my bone to take him out but the arrows ends up taking out a mutt that I'm sure is Gus. I feel a moment's relief and I'm turning back to face Herc when I'm yanked backwards and I drop my bow. I'm sure it's a mutt and I'm about to be pulled off the Cornucopia to my bloody death.
I flipped to face Sawyer, who's looking at me in horror. That's when I realize that Herc must have mustered enough energy to grab me and he now has me in a chokehold towards the edge of the Cornucopia. I want to try to wiggle out of his grip but I'm afraid to make his footing stable because he would surely take me with him. He grips me so tightly he's starting to cut off my air supply. Despite that I'm becoming increasing lightheaded, I'm more worried for Sawyer's leg, which seems to be gushing more blood by the second.
"Herc, let her go," Sawyer says. His voice is shaking and he's struggling to stay calm. He tightens the grip of the knife in his hand sand takes a step forward.
Herc leans back, getting closer to the edge. "Take another step and we both go down!
He's right. If Sawyer tries anything, Herc is still wearing his body armor so I doubt there is any way to do so without risking me too.
I try to choke out words but nothing is coming out but wheezing sounds. I uselessly slap his arm but he doesn't budge. If I die of asphyxiation Herc will probably end up using my body as a shield anyway, and I highly doubt Sawyer will do anything that could possibly hurt me. As I struggle against him, my hand hits my gold pin and an idea pops into my head. I slowly undo the back through my jacket, gripping it tightly in my hand. I'll only have one chance. Running out of time and knowing I might black out soon, I pull my arm back and jab the pin into this hand and pull it out before Herc or Sawyer can notice. Herc cries out in surprise and instinctively loosens his grip on my neck. It's enough for me to duck under his grip and shove him away from me, sending him tumbling over the side. Sawyer yanks me backwards into him, holding me to him like his life depends on it.
We hear Herc hit the ground and then the mutts are on him. Sawyer and I hold onto each other, waiting for the cannon but it doesn't come. Not yet. Because this is the climax of the Hunger Games and the audience expects a show.
I don't watch, but I can hear the snarls, the growls, the howls of pain from both human and beast as Herc takes on the mutt pack. I don't know how he can be surviving so long until I remember his nearly impenetrable body armor protecting his most vital organs. He must have some kind of weapon on him too because we occasionally hear the death sounds of the mutts. THen they start to move around the Cornucopia and I know that Herc is attempting the one maneuver that could save his life, to get to the tail of the horn to rejoin us. But in the end, despite his remarkable strength and skill, he's overpowered.
I don't know how long it's been, maybe an hour or so, when Herc hits the ground and we hear the mutts dragging him, dragging him back into the Cornucopia. I'm sure they'll finish him off now, but still no cannon.
Night falls and the anthem plays but there's no photo of Herc in the sky, only the faint moans coming from beneath us.
I turn my attention to Sawyer and see that his leg is bleeding as badly as ever. All of our supplies are still down by the lake where we had left it when we fled from the mutts. Although I'm shaking in the biting wind, I rip off my jacket, remove my shirt, and zip my jack back on as quickly as possible.
Sawyer's face is gray in the pale moonlight. I make him lie down before I probe his wound, warm and slippery from the blood. A bandage won't be enough. I try to remember how to tie a tourniquet, the way I've seen Nana do a few times. I used his knife to cut free a sleeve of my shirt, and tie it in a half knot right above the large gash. I don't have a stick so I take one of my arrows and insert it into the knot, twisting it as tightly as I dare. It's risky business, Sawyer might end up losing his leg, but when I weigh this against losing his life, what choice do I have? I bandage the wound with the rest of my shirt and lie down with him.
"Don't go to sleep," I tell him. I'm scared that if he dozes off now, he might not wake up.
"Are you cold?" Sawyer asks. He doesn't wait for me to answer, unzipping his jacket. I press my body against his and he zips his jacket around the both of us. Sharing our body heat helps tremendously. The Cornucopia which had been burning earlier, is now turning to ice.
"Herc may still win this yet," I say, my teeth chattering from the cold.
"Don't you believe it," he says, pulling my hood up, but he's shivering harder than I am.
The next hours are the worst of my life, which if you think about it, is saying something. And being so close to the end but still being so out of reach is making it worse. The cold would have been torture enough, but listening to the sounds of Herc moaning, , begging, and finally whimpering as the mutts work away at him. After a very short time, I don't care who he is or what he's done, I just want his suffering to end. For both our sakes.
"Why don't they just kill him?" I ask Sawyer.
"You know why," he says, pulling me closer to him.
And I do. No viewer can turn away from the show now. From the gamemakers point of view, this is the final word in entertainment.
It goes on and on and eventually completely consumes my mind, blocking out memories and hopes of tomorrow, erasing everything but the present, which I begin to believe will never change. There will never be anything but cold and fear and the agonized sounds of the boy dying in the horn.
Sawyer begins to doze off now, and each time he does, I shout his name louder and louder, because if he goes and dies on me now, I'll go completely insane. He's fighting it, probably more for me than him, because unconsciousness would be, in its own way, a form of escape. But the adrenaline pumping through my body would never allow me to follow him, so I can't let him go. I just can't.
The only passage of time is the slow movement of the moon so Sawyer points it out to me, insisting I acknowledge its progress and sometimes, for just a moment, I feel a flicker of hope before the agony of the night engulfs me again.
Finally, I hear him whisper that the sun is rising. I open my eyes and find the stars fading into the pale light of the dawn. I can see, too, how bloodless Sawyer's face has become. How little time he has left. I know I have to get him back to the Capitol.
Still, no cannon has fired. I press my good ear against the horn and can just make out Herc's voice.
"I think he's closer now. Willow, can you shoot him?" Sawyer asks.
If he's close enough to the mouth of the horn, I might be able to. It would be an act of mercy at this point.
"My last arrows in your tourniquet," I tell him.
"Make it count," Sawyer says, unzipping his jacket to let me loose.
So I free the arrow, tying the tourniquet back up as tightly as my frozen fingers and manage. I rub my hand together to try to get some circulation back. When I crawl to the lip of the horn and hang over the edge, I feel Sawyer's hand grip me for support.
It takes a few moments to find Herc in the dim light , in the blood. The the pile of ripped clothing and raw meat that used ot be my enemy makes a sound and I know where his mouth is. And I think the word he's trying to say is please.
Pity, not vengeance, sens my arrow flying into his skull. Sawyer pulls me back the second I release, bow in hand, quiver empty.
"Did you get him?" he whispers.
The cannon fires in answer.
"Then we won, Willow," he says hollowly.
"Hurray for us," I get out, but there's no joy of victory in my voice.
A hole opens up in the plain, and if on cue, the remaining mutts bound into it, disappearing as the earth closes above them.
We wait, for the hovercraft to take Herc's remains, for the trumpets of victory that should follow, but nothing happens.
"Hey!" I shout into air. "What's going on?" The only response is the chatter of waking birds.
"Maybe it's the body," says Sawyer. "Maybe we have to move away from it."
I try to remember if that has been the case for the other tributes, but my mind is so muddled that I can't remember.
"Okay. Think you can make it to the lake?" I ask.
"Think I better try," Sawyer says. It's not easy by any means as we inch towards the tail of the horn. I'm so sore and stiff, that I can't even begin to imagine how Sawyer feels right now. He leans most of his weight on me and we somehow make it to the lake. I scoop up a handful of cold water for Sawyer, bringing a second to my lips.
A hovercraft appears and it finally carries away Herc's bloody body. My body instantly fills with relief. Now they will take us. Now we can go home.
"What are they waiting for?" Sawyer says weakly. Between the loss of the tourniquet and the effort getting to the lake, his wound has opened up again.
"I don't know," I say. Whatever the holdup is, I can't watch him lose any more blood. I walk around to try to find a stick to fix his tourniquet. I come across one of the arrows that I think bounced off of Herc's armor. As I stoop to pick it up, a voice booms into the arena.
"Greetings to the final contestants of the one-hundredth Hunger Games! The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed only one winner may be allowed," it says. "Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor."
There's a small burst of static and then nothing more. I stare at Sawyer in disbelief as the truth sinks in. They never intended both of us to win. This has all been devised by the gamemakers to ensure the most dramatic showdown in history. And like a fool, I bought into it.
"If you think about it, it's not that surprising," he says softly. I watch as he painfully stands up onto his feet. Then he's moving towards me, as if in slow motion, his hand is pulling the knife from his belt.
Before I am aware of my actions, my bow is loaded, pointing straight at his heart. Sawyer smiles sadly, and I see the knife has already left his hand, splashing into the lake. I stare at my bow in horror, relaxing it and dropping it at my feet.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I sob, taking a step back. I feel guilty for thinking for even a second that Sawyer would do anything like that. What have the games done to me that it was so easy to consider killing him? Or was that a part of me all along?
I'm practically inconsolable and Sawyer has me in his embrace in seconds, shushing me, and gently rubbing the back of my neck. The audience must see this as some lover's embrace, but truthfully I'm scared. For him. For me. Of who we've become.
When I've finally calmed down, Sawyer steps back, picking up my bow and arrow, thrusting them back at me. "Do it."
"No!" I shove his hand back. "I can't. I won't"
"Do it before they send the mutts back or something," he insists. "I don't want to die like Herc."
"Then you shoot me," I say furiously. "You shoot me and you go home and live with it!" And as I say it, I know death, right here, right now, would be the easier of the two.
"You know I can't," Sawyer says, discarding the weapons. "Fine, I'll go first anyway." He leans down and rips the bandage off of his leg and immediately blood starts to flow.
"No, you can't kill youself," I say. I'm on my knees desperately plastering the bandage back onto his wound.
"Willow. It's what I want," Sawyer says.
"What about what I want!" I cry out. "You're not leaving me here alone." I'm pleading with him now. Because if Sawyer dies and I live, a part of me will never leave this place. It will stay here with all of the other children who will never get to leave. I'll be a ghost, still fighting the demons of this arena.
"Listen," he says, pulling me to my feet. "We both know they have to have a victor. Please take it. For me." And he goes on and on about how he loves me, what life would be without me but I've stopped listening because his previous words are stuck in my head.
We both know they have to have a victor.
Yes, they have to have a victor. Without a victor, the whole thing will blow up in the Gamemakers faces. They'd have failed the Capitol. Might possible even be executed, slowly and painfully, while the cameras broadcast it to every county.
If Sawyer and I were both to die, or they thought we were…
I push my lips against his, hard and fast to stop his rambling. "We won't give them one."
Sawyer blinks a few times. "What?"
"A victor. We won't give them one." I reach for the leather pouch in my pocket.
"Willow, you can't," Sawyer places his hand over mine.
"Trust me." Sawyer holds my gaze for a while as he slowly comes to realize my plan. I grab his hand, placing a few berries on them, doing the same for me. "On the count of three?"
Sawyer reaches up with his free hand, tucking a loose strand from my braid behind my ear, caressing my cheek. He gently kisses me, once. "The count of three."
We stand, our backs pressed together, our empty hands locked tight.
"Hold them out. I want everyone to see," he says.
I spread out my fingers and the dark berries glisten in the sun. I give Sawyers hand one last squeeze as a signal, as a good-bye, and we begin counting. "One." Maybe I'm wrong. "Two." Maybe they don't care if we both die. "Three!" It's too late to change my mind. I lift my hand to my mouth, focusing on the trees, so similar to my own woods. The berries have just passed my lips when the trumpets begin to blare.
A frantic voice shouts above them. "Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentleman, I am pleased to present the victors of the one-hundredth Hunger Games, Willow Mellark and Sawyer Hawthorne! I give you - the tributes of District Twelve!"