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Enver Naledi-Alder
District 7, He/Him, 16
(The Gardens)
[9.20 AM]
...
(Tributes emerge from every direction, armed and ready to kill, yet my mind stubbornly refuses to release me from the shelter of my tube
For now, I'm safe, unnoticed and hidden
Desperation urges my eyes to scan the Cornucopia for a sign of comfort as a shrill scream echoes throughout the room
Finally, my eyes land on Odalis and I fight for control of my feet once more. Safety seems more conceivable with someone by my side.
However, it's not long before my feet are riveted to the ground once again.
My whole body screaming at me to run as the boy from Ten is impaled in the heart.
My throat constricting as the Cyborg approaches Odalis.
I want more than anything to rush over and help him but, by the time my thoughts are gathered, Odalis' heart has already stopped beating.)
My entire body shudders as the image of death enveloping my newfound friend replays endlessly in my mind. The horrors of the bloodbath grab hold of me and force me to rock back and forth to obtain any sense of consolation.
Before the chaos in my mind can take over, I'm jolted awake by the sound of a twig snapping in two. Without a second thought, I'm clinging to the tree that I hid behind only moments ago. It's a futile attempt at concealing myself but, with my hands void of weapons, there are very few options. Although, even if I did have a weapon, the thought of harming someone right now sends butterflies shooting down my stomach.
Another twig snaps. They're getting closer.
"Please. Please." I whisper to myself, holding my trembling hands to my mouth.
My pleas for help are ignored by whoever they are directed to, though, and I squeeze my eyes shut as the figure comes into view. I don't get a good look at who it is—probably a career looking for an easy kill. As I await the knife that is bound to crash into me at any moment…
"Enver!" Someone gasps and my eyes burst open at the sound of the familiar voice. Without a second to spare, Malory is flinging herself into my arms and an immense wave of relief washes over me. The tears that I've been desperately holding back, break free like a dam giving way - streaming down my face with no sign of stopping.
"I thought..." I choke out, not daring to pull away from the tight embrace. The wetness of her cheek, which's pressed against my own, is enough to tell me she's experiencing a similar feeling. "I thought you were gone."
Neither of us wants to let go. The all-consuming fear of being alone for even a few minutes in this place almost pushed me to insanity. I don't want to risk that once again. But a boom across the arena is what snaps us back into reality, and my heart races as six cannons sound one after the other.
"Cybill?" I ask, my voice hopeful, but she shrugs helplessly and I deflate once more.
"I..." she whispers. "I don't know. After Odalis, I just ran."
My heart aches with empathy as I hear the pure anguish in her voice. Odalis was a friend but not one that I knew very well, he and Malory always shared a closer bond. Therefore, I can only imagine that his death impacted her on a far deeper level. Although, I find myself questioning how it can get much worse than the sorrow that runs through me.
"I'm sorry," I say, my voice cracking. While there's nothing to apologise for, Dad always told me that the sentiment shows others that you care. Of course, he's right as always, and Malory holds her head a little higher as she wipes the tears from her cheeks.
"Six tributes gone and sixteen more until one of us can go home." She says, the tone of her voice indicates she's making an effort to convince herself of this. After taking a deep breath, she adds, "What now?"
"Cybill could still be around here looking for us," I say, holding out hope that she'll round the tree any minute and taunt us for thinking she couldn't handle herself.
"You're right. I suppose we stick around here a little longer." She replies, taking in her surroundings. "It is beautiful, isn't it?"
For the first time, I acknowledge the place in which I've run into. It's unusual for me to have missed the opportunity to appreciate such an untainted and bewitching part of nature, but I guess that's to be expected as the shock of the bloodbath continues to wear on me. There are trees spread across miles and a dirt path that journeys towards a variety of different alien plants and flowers that burst with colour. I've seen my fair share of forests in District Seven, but this place is different in how it pulls you in.
"Yes, it is," I say, taking in the rich assortment of ethereal flowers through my nose. "Wouldn't be so bad of a place to die."
Malory lets out a huff.
"It would also be a great place to live." She says. "Perhaps on one of these trees?"
"Oh, yes!" I exclaim, gazing up at the tree I had been using as a refuge. "It's tall and seems strong; if I had a rope or possibly a saw, then I could build us a pretty decent treehouse within a couple of days." A small smile creeps onto my face at the thought of my favourite hobby, but I quickly force it away.
Your friend just died, Enver! Now's not the time for smiling.
"No rope or saw," Malory says, and I turn to find her rummaging in a backpack. "There is a water bottle and some chlorine tablets. Oh, and a knife. Would that work?"
"Well, it will probably take me a little bit longer," I murmur. "It will certainly be useful for climbing up, though."
"Perfect. We should probably move a couple of miles out; we're still close to the cornucopia." She says this, and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.
"But aren't we waiting for Cybill?" I ask. "She won't be able to find us if we move too far away."
"Oh, I guess you're right." She mumbles, her gaze drifting to the floor.
"What is it?" I ask.
"It's nothing..." She says but, when I continue to stare at her, she adds, "Just, I don't think she's coming, Enver."
"Why not? I taught her the directions; she could've just gotten a little confused." I say, now frowning.
"That's a possibility. We could just wait it out until night and see which heads appear in the sky?" She asks, and I shrug.
"Works for me," I say, slumping against the tree and looking up at the sky. "I think we could do with a little rest, anyway."
Dahlia Lucretia
District 10, She/They, 17
(The Scarlet Desert)
[11.15 AM]
...
My legs are beginning to protest the relentless running, and the muscles within tighten with a torturous pain.
The scorching desert sand is of no assistance to my weary legs, and Adam has had to hoist me from the ground on several occasions.
"Please, can we just take a break?" I ask through heavy breathing, marking what feels like my fourth plea for respite.
"Fine," Adam states, coming to a halt. He's hardly even broken a sweat, and I can't help but feel envious of the strength he holds in those sturdy legs. Then again, he had time to prepare for this. "We'll start back up in an hour." He affirms, and I follow suit as he plants himself on the sandy surface, attempting to catch my breath.
The gardens remain visible a few miles away, and the contrast between them and the desert is disturbingly unnatural. not to mention the immediate change in climate as soon as we stepped onto the golden sand. Although the only way in which I can discern the heat on my body is through the steady stream of sweat sliding down my back, The rays of the sun seem to avoid me, as if they are repulsed by my extraordinary nature.
There's solely a bone-chilling cold rushing through my veins and causing my entire body to tremble. It started with the first girl being stabbed through the back, then the boy from Ten falling to the ground. Death has always been around me, but I've never witnessed someone being taken by it, seemingly causing a negative reaction to my body. It wasn't as noticeable as I ran, but now, as everything begins to settle in, my mind becomes a cacophony of noise.
"Are you okay, Dahlia? You're shaking!" Kaylee exclaims while frantically crawling over to me. Her hand on my shoulder alleviates some of the cold; her joy-filled life fights against the death that surrounds me.
"It's a lot. So much. Death." I choke out, my eyes brimming with tears. "I can still feel them."
"What do you mean?" Adam asks, his eyes narrowing.
"They're here," I whisper before an invisible source pulls me sharply to the ground. It's almost as if there's a rope tying me to each of them. All of them are pulling and pulling, trying to make it back.
I'm the only bridge between life and death, after all.
"I'm a medium. I know it sounds crazy, but just trust me on this." I sob.
"Okay!" Kaylee exclaims urgently. "What do you need?"
"Water. I just need energy to push them back," I murmur, and Adam instantly begins sifting through the bag he grabbed from the cornucopia. Fortunately, there's a full bottle in there, and I snatch it from him as he pulls it out. I'm careful not to drink it all—acutely aware of the lack of water in the desert.
As the water enters my system, I begin to regain my composure and start to untie the ropes that bind me. It's a laborious task that takes the full focus of my mind as I'm forced to wage war against those I've always sworn to safeguard. Under normal circumstances, I would have time to research this or find out a little bit more about such a process, but the arena is not the place for that.
A few moments later, I'm free from the captivity of the ropes and gently usher the ghosts of the children of the bloodbath away from the land of the living.
"What happened?" Kaylee asks as soon as my eyes jerk open.
"They're still here but no longer fighting... It will take them a little while, maybe a couple of days, to fully leave." I say, lying against the sand with my chest heaving as I force oxygen into my lungs.
"Alright, then..." Adam says. "Will you be able to start up again in an hour?"
I'm flooded with irritation by the suggestion, knowing the profuse exhaustion will hardly go away in the matter of an hour, but I push it back as I remind myself that he's simply trying to protect us.
"We'll see when the time comes," I reply, not wanting to make any promises.
"I hope so. I want to get as far away from that cornucopia as possible." Kaylee whispers as she traces lines in the sand. "It was horrible, wasn't it?"
"It will haunt me forever," Adam says, taking Kaylee's hand into his own. I almost laugh at that thought, knowing it truly will haunt me forever, but I remind myself that now isn't the time for humour. "We'll be okay, though; we have each other."
Kaylee looks up at him with those large, innocent orbs that reflect such innocence, and I register the tears stramming down her cheeks. A sudden urge to protect her sparks inside of me, and I scoot a little closer to her delicate body.
"But we can't all make it out." Kaylee sniffs, and my first instinct is to place my arm around her. Protecting and helping others has always been my life's passion, and I can't help but occupy the role of nurturer, even if it is unconventional for such a place.
"There's a first time for everything," I assure her, and even though I know it's unlikely, I coerce myself to believe that it's true. Kaylee and Adam don't deserve to die here before their time.
And neither do I.
After all, I should know more than anyone.
Even a few years before death takes hold of me, I should feel Him looming. Yet, such unnatural circumstances I am under have forced Him forward before He's ready. I suspect he won't be close enough to greet me until my heart stops beating. Either that or I make it out of here with the sobbing sounds of twenty-three dead children obscuring my thoughts for the rest of what I'm sure will be my miserable life.
"I hope my parents aren't watching." Kaylee sighs. "I don't want them to see me differently after this."
"They won't," Adam replies. "Any good parent wouldn't blame you for something out of your control."
The pure emotion in his voice elicits surprise from me, and I wonder if there's more to what he says than simply giving Kaylee advice. It intrigues me, especially after feeling the coldness within him. His sister's death must have significantly changed him for such grief and despair to be consuming him.
"Thanks," Kaylee says, placing her head on Adam's shoulder.
As the three of us sit in the desolate desert, I wonder if I would be able to untie the rope pulling me to either of them.
My heart answers before my mind has the chance.
No, I wouldn't.
Ranger Saladin
District 2, They/Them, 18
(The Cornucopia)
[1.30 PM]
...
"What was her name?" Scylla asks, peering down at the body sprawled on the ground.
"Does it matter?" I reply, taking a hold of the girl's hands as Scylla seizes her ankles. It only takes a matter of moments for us to transport her to the row of decaying bodies by the far wall and we set her down gently beside the boy from Ten - whose gaping mouth triggers me to avert my gaze. Pulling my spear from his heart proved more challenging than anticipated and I was required to force down disgust with a strange mixture of sadness.
I could practically hear my Mother's unwavering voice echoing in my mind - commanding me not to dwell on such insignificant things. She's right, of course, if I wish to begin caring about the existence of others then The Hunger Games is not the time or the place to start.
"You really fucked her up, Robert." Scylla laughs as we return to the cornucopia.
"Just getting the job done." He replies with a shrug. Much like myself, he seems indifferent to the prospect of killing. Whereas Scylla seems to relish in it, having already recounted attaining the first kill several times in the last few hours.
Instinctively, I grasp hold of a knife from one of the many weapon racks stationed inside the golden structure and take a seat on the ground next to Robert.
"You're not going to kill me with that, right?" He jokes. "We're in an alliance, remember."
"I don't remember agreeing to an alliance," I say neutrally, displaying a clear lack of humour in my tone. Sure, I opted to assist the two of them once Aisling went down but that was merely out of respect for those who shall be my competitors. They deserved a fair fight if they were going to die and three against two is anything but that. Besides, the sheer desperation reflected in Robert's eyes compelled me to act without thinking. I would never admit that, though.
I've resolved that the intense emotions in that moment were enough to overwhelm me and stimulate my mind to respond irrationally. After all, I've never been one to pick sides and doubt I would've made the same decision if I had time to think it over.
"You protected Scylla and me when we needed it most. That sounds like we're allies to me." Robert says and I'm acutely aware of his intense gaze stare upon me. I refuse to turn to face him and ensure my own eyes are trained on the knife that I twirl in my hand. Trained on the only thing that matters - getting out of here alive.
This time, I am determined to contemplate it carefully before coming to a decision - sticking to the lessons instilled in me from birth.
It would be downright foolish to betray Scylla and Robert now. Not only would Quincy and Felix have a vendetta against me but the entirety of the Careers would which is hardly an ideal position. I can't help but blame my impulsiveness and lack of thinking for placing me in such a scenario and wish I could go back in time and force Scylla and Robert to fend for themselves.
"I suppose you're right," I remark. "It seems you've finally convinced me to join your little group."
"About damn time." Scylla sighs. "Does that mean the problem was Aisling all along? Because I would've taken you over them any day."
Her comment gives way to an awkward silence. Scylla appears to be unaware of how Aisling's death has impacted Robert. It's unsurprising, though, as he's able to mask his discomfort well, but I could discern it by the way he stares longingly at their lifeless body. As if he blames himself for being unable to protect them. Even now, he looks across the spacious hall to the row of bodies where Aisling lays still and limp in the centre.
"Aisling wasn't the problem." I finally say. "I just needed some time to think over it."
"Well, I'm glad you made the right decision." She winks. "I'm forever grateful to you for making such an embarrassment out of Quincy. I mean, did you see his face? Swear to Panem, he was absolutely furious!" She laughs and I force a smile in response.
I'm not particularly fond of Quincy but the thought of him running from me brings me very little joy. His death, however, would be significantly more optimal.
"When do you think we should go out hunting?" Scylla asks, meticulously choosing a sword from a rack. "I say now, we don't want to let him get too far."
"And who would protect the cornucopia?" I ask.
"I don't know. You could stay back if you think it needs protecting." Scylla scoffs.
"So you and Robert will be able to take a group of three - two of them being similarly skilled Careers?" I question, crossing my arms. "Don't get me wrong, you're both proficient with a sword, but even I wouldn't bet on the two of you making it out of that fight."
The absolute anger that bursts from Scylla's eyes takes me aback. I had no intention of offending her, I was simply trying to think through the best option for us moving forward.
"You think I'm weak, Ranger Saladin?" She questions through gritted teeth, taking a couple of steps toward me. I take this as a signal to stand and tighten the grip on my knife.
Robert hisses something at the two of us but I take no notice as I focus in on Scylla. I have no desire to kill her but, if she makes a move on me, I have very little choice.
"Hardly, Scylla. Merely that it would be irrational for the two of you to take on the three of them." I say, keeping my voice even and calm.
"Mark my words, I could slit the throats of all three of them before you could even blink, Cyborg." She snaps and I feel my own anger burst inside of me. How dare she call me that? How dare she belittle me because of my differences?
Tame your anger, Ranger. Emotions will get you killed.
"Fine," I mutter. "Do whatever you want."
Ephron Amos
District 6, He/Him, 15
(Marmoreal)
[4.05 PM]
...
"Do you think we could take a little break?" Sky shouts ahead to Marya and Smith, who have been engaging in conversation for the past few hours. The rest of us have been trailing behind, in a tenacious effort to keep up.
"Certainly," Smith responds, turning towards us with a cordial smile. "I noticed some fruit on a few of these trees if anyone's feeling peckish."
"I could eat." I chime in, strolling toward one of the trees. Their dark oak trunks and branches are embellished with exquisite, pale pink blossoms which make for an enchanting sight. Eventually, as I approach, I spot one of the fruits Smith mentioned and pluck it from the flower that cradles. it It's a small, red sphere, entirely foreign compared to the fruits back home.
"Looks like a berry," Saxony says, startling me. "Did I scare you?" She laughs and I nod.
As much as she seems to be trying to keep a cheery mood, I can't shake that something is bothering her. The whites of her eyes have turned red from constant rubbing and her restless pacing back and forth is a signal for concern.
"Are you okay?" I ask, my concern genuine, and her forced smile drops with ease.
"I'm fine. You know, it's a lot." She admits, gaze drifting to the ground. "The boy from Three, you know, the one with the Peacekeeper. I watched him..."
"I'm sorry." I interrupt to spare her from recounting the grim details. "Nobody should have to experience that," I add - my own memories of the Cornucopia also clouding my mind. The atmosphere continues to weigh heavy as the two of us take a seat under the blossoming tree but she struggles to find comfort despite the beauty that surrounds us.
"I've seen death before but..." She hesitates. "It wasn't like that. They weren't innocent...or maybe they were. Anyway, it was my father who did it and now I just feel as if my entire world is collapsing all around me."
"I understand. You don't have to explain yourself to me." I assure her and we share an understanding of the burdens we both carry from back home. I certainly wasn't the perfect person even if my stealing was a necessary evil to take care of my family.
"Do you think my Father is a bad person, Ephron?" Saxony asks, looking up from the ground. Her pleading eyes pull at my heartstrings and I feel the urge to lie in order to comfort her. I know that's not what she wants, though.
"I don't know, Saxony. I don't know your Father so I'm not going to judge him for one part of himself." I say, choosing my words carefully. "But killing is wrong and there is very little that can justify it. If your Father chose to kill those people when he could've given mercy, it's hard to believe that there's much good in him."
Her fists immediately curl into balls and I'm fear I've said the wrong thing.
"Thank you, Ephron. For being honest." She says after an exasperated sigh and I smile.
"Hey guys! Did you find some?" Sky says, interrupting our sombre moment with a genuine smile.
"Well, I got one," I say, looking back down at the supposed berry. "Are they nice?"
"A little sour but it's good to get food into your system." She replies and my stomach rumbles in response. I'm used to going for a couple of days without food but with all the running and walking I've spent doing today, I could eat a horse. Without another thought, I drop the berry into my mouth and it pops open as soon as my teeth crash upon it. 'A little sour' was a complete understatement, my tongue burns with the unfamiliar taste, and I swallow down the berry before I'm forced to spit it out.
"That was horrible!" I cry. "Panem, I need some water."
"Sorry." Sky chuckles. "You'll have to ask Marya, she's the one with the bag. Although, Smith told me we needed to save it when I asked."
"What so we're not allowed to drink?" Saxony asks, eyebrows furrowed. "I saw Smith with the water bottle like an hour ago!"
"Trust me, I don't like it any more than you do." Sky mutters. "But we have a lot more resources if we stick together and Smith's sword tells me we shouldn't piss him off."
I look over at the silver blade in Smith's hand - about twenty metres away - and a shiver shoots up my spine. Sky and Marya also have weapons, a knife each, and Saxony managed to grab a First Aid kit but my flight during the Bloodbath left me with nothing. So, if Smith were to get annoyed at me and decide I wasn't worth his time...
Well, it wouldn't be good.
"I agree, hopefully, we'll stumble upon a lake or a river soon," I say.
"Bullshit, it's our water too! Come on Ephron let's just go ask." Saxony says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me.
"Saxony-" I protest but she disregards me and continues ahead.
"Panem, she is stubborn." Sky murmurs as we come to a stop.
"Hello, you two!" Saxony says and Marya and Smith turn to greet her. "Do you think Ephron could get a drink?"
"Of cour-" Marya starts but Smith interjects.
"As I told Sky, I think it's best we save it for now." He smiles and I watch as Saxony clenches and unclenches her fists.
"You had a sip earlier, no? I think it's fair we all get a bit of water today." She says through gritted teeth. "Don't you, Ephron?"
I jump at the sound of my name and look to the floor - unsure of how to respond. I've always been a people pleaser so to be put in a situation like this is almost impossible. I don't want to leave Saxony hanging, though, and I am very thirsty...
"Yes." I squeak.
"Fine, I suppose that's fair," Smith mutters and I sigh in relief.
Quincy Abraham
District 4, He/Him, 18
(The Gardens)
[7.42 PM]
...
As the sun begins to set, it only serves as a reminder of the time we are foolishly wasting.
Pacing back and forth, I drag my sword across the verdant blades of grass in an attempt to ease the adrenaline coursing through me. I want nothing more than to jump right into battle. That's what I'm here for, right? To kill! Not to sit around like a fucking donkey.
"We're going." I say suddenly, and Felix and Wells snap their heads up from where they sit on the ground, changing the bandages wrapped around Wells' neck.
"Going where, exactly?" Felix asks, raising his eyebrows in bewilderment.
"To the cornucopia." I reply with a defiant set to my jaw, my eyes staring daggers into his own. "I will not be chased away from what is rightfully mine."
"You already were, Quincy." Felix sighs. "We made the right decision. We can't beat them."
Fury ignites within me, consuming any self-restraint that remains.
"I am not helpless!" I scream, spit flying from my mouth. "I am not weak!"
Felix stands as I take a step forward, and I watch as he steps in front of the cowering wells. He thinks himself so heroic, as if he would be able to protect the worthless boy from my wrath. Yet, the admirable act serves as more of a trigger for my mind as I watch Felix's face morph into the conceited smile of my younger brother.
("Keep your head down." I mutter to Mark as we pass the group of older boys. If there were any other path home, then I would take it in an instant rather than risk facing the five of them.
There isn't, though, and I'm almost too aware of how late it's getting. Mother won't be happy if I don't bring Mark and myself home by curfew, so there's no time to waste.
As we pass them, relief bursts through me, and I lift my head once more before letting out a sigh of relief. However, that very relief is washed away in an instant as the sound of shouting reverberates behind us.
I can only hope that the gang of boys is arguing amongst themselves, but the more rational part of me shoots that down as foolishness. The sound of their footsteps approaching sends me into a sprint, and I scream at Mark to follow.
It's useless, though, and the boys catch up to the two of us within moments. Immediately, their fists were pounding all over my frail body. I try to fight back. I try to squirm from their grip. But it's not enough, and I'm overwhelmed by the helplessness consuming me.
Even after the wallet has been plucked from my pocket, the punches don't stop, and the sheer anger of the men is enough to bring tears to my eyes.
It takes what feels like hours for the punches to come to a stop but they do so more suddenly than I expected, and I quickly realise the eerie silence that has filled the seemingly desolate street. Slowly, I open my eyes and find Mark's bloody face staring down at me.
The boys have retreated, and there's only one plausible explanation.
Mark holds his hand out to me, but I shove it away and push myself up. Most might feel grateful to be saved from near death, but I'm conflicted between humiliation and rage.
How could I be so helpless and so weak to be saved by my younger brother?)
As soon as I see that familiar face, I pounce. My hands wrap around Mark's neck and squeeze without constraint. Finally, after all these years, I can watch him squirm and realise how much weaker he truly is. How much stronger I have become since that day ten years ago.
All I've wanted to do since then is show him, show everyone that I am just as capable as him. That I am just as worthy of attention!
"Do you see that, Mom and Dad?" I shout at the sky. "I have always been the strongest. I have always been the best. Do you realise that now?"
The only response I receive is that of the forgotten boy now attempting to pull my arms from Mark's neck.
"What the hell, Quincy?" He screams, tears streaming down his face. "Let go of him!"
As I look back at Mark, reality snaps back into place, and I release the struggling Felix, causing him to fall to the ground. His coughs are the only audible sounds as I back away from the pair, my mouth hanging open with incredulity.
It felt so real. Mark had been right there with his chivalrous nature and his prideful stance.
My heart beats at a rapid pace as Wells helps Felix up. There's no indication of what Felix may do, but I clutch tightly to my sword as I anticipate an attack. Surprisingly, it doesn't come.
The two of them share a look, and the tension in the air only tightens. Slowly, Felix rubs at his neck and turns back to me. He's likely expecting an apology, but I'm untrained in that field, and a voice in the back of my head serves as a reminder to never admit to making mistakes.
Mistakes are for the weak. And I am not weak.
"I won't forget that." Felix states in a hoarse voice. "But there's as much honour in mercy as there is in revenge." Wells sighs at this, seemingly unhappy with Felix's decision to forgive me.
His mercy means nothing to me, though. If I wanted to, I could've killed him with my bare hands moments ago, and yet he still seems to underestimate the violent fury that courses through my veins.
"This game isn't for heroes, Felix." I say, with a sardonic smile.
Leaving the two of them in the clearing, I'm keenly aware of the indelible mark this will leave on our alliance. Then again, I never have needed to rely on others. They failed in their purpose of helping me secure the cornucopia. So what use are they to me now?
Very little.
But there's also no harm in sticking around a little longer. After all, I'd love to see Felix's haughty smirk wiped clean off his face.
Marcus Russel
District 5, He/Him, 18
(Tugley Woods)
[9.00 PM]
...
The fanfare of trumpets blares throughout the arena and compels me to instinctively shield my ears from the reverberating sound.
Although it's less the piercing noise and more the recognisable tune that sparks an unending fury within me, The Capitol Anthem. The pride of their nation bursts out of the brass instruments and is forcibly shoved down my throat. It takes everything in me not to snap at this moment, as my enemy seems to be revelling in the pain they have caused me.
The prospect of my own death is irrelevant. If I were reaped under normal circumstances, then I'm certain that navigating my way back home would be of little challenge. But Nicole being placed beside me changes it all. I'm not fighting for my life, but I'm fighting for hers. I'm striving for the future that the Capitol dared to take from us when they plucked our names from that bowl.
And they dare to claim it was a coincidence? One of my common runners would be able to discern the unbelievable probability of that occurrence.
As the anthem comes to a fortunate close, the night sky lights up with the ethereal image of the girl from Seven. Her wavy, blonde hair is tied up in a loose bun, and her youthful face stares back at me so innocently that I can't help the shudder through my core. Death has never had much impact on me; it's a part of the job after all, but the killing of untarnished children is something even I would consider cruel. Once the boy from Three appears, I don't bother to hide my wince. It's hard to look past the mental image of his crumpled body on the ground as I sprinted past.
The show ends with the girl from Three, and the woods are plunged back into darkness.
"Well, that was depressing." I mutter, shuffling closer towards where Nicole rests on the ground, surrounded by an assortment of leaves and branches.
"Six down, sixteen to go." She replies, placing her head on my shoulder. I'm inclined to agree, but that would be giving into the Capitol's game. And if there's anything I won't do, it's that.
"No, we'll get out of here another way." I declare, feeling a sudden sense of determination and pushing myself up from the ground. "Let's keep moving; we don't want to waste time."
"Where, exactly, are we going?" She inquires with a furrowed brow. "It's not like there's going to be an exit out there."
"There has to be an end, and where there's an end, there's an exit." I say, walking with a persistent stride. There is no chance I will surrender to the Capitol and accept that only one of us will emerge from this arena alive. There would be no value in my life without her by my side. The proposal, originally intended for after the reaping, once we could ensure we had aged out, is not out of sight. As long as there's that possibility, I will stop at nothing to grasp hold of it.
We walk in hushed silence, the earthy aroma of damp soil and the occasional bumping into trees is the only indication that we remain in the woods. My muscles ache from the fatigue of labouring the entire day, and the temptation to fall to the ground and sleep for the rest of the night is almost irresistible. The mental battle between giving up and persevering is equally draining, and, eventually, I settle on the latter.
"We can start back up in the morning." I tell Nicole as the two of us attempt to get comfortable on the hard ground. "We have to be somewhat close."
She responds with a huff, her breath touching my cheek. My skin tingles as I crave the warmth of the exhale with the cold beginning to settle in. The two of us are no longer protected by the constant moving and her form shakes against my own. I turn to Nicole and take hold of her, enveloping her body within my own and relishing in the heat and comfort it provides as the frigid air nips at my exposed body. The only thing I've ever truly wanted is to protect her, and the thought of being unable to do that here shakes me to my core.
"I love you." I whisper into her ear, and she gently kisses my cheek in response. "You're not going to say it back?"
"Love you." She mumbles, and my heart flutters in confusion.
"Have I done something wrong?" I ask, cupping her chin in my hand and grazing my lips against hers.
The air is filled with a tense silence but, eventually, she answers.
"I'm worried that you've gotten your hopes up." She admits with a sigh. "That you truly believe there will be a way for the two of us to get out of here."
I sharply exhale through my nose.
"You don't?" I ask, holding my breath as I await her response.
"No, Marcus." She whispers. "There's only one Victor. We both know that."
It's like I can feel my heart shatter, and I clutch at my chest in an attempt to hold it together.
Her lack of hope, her lack of faith in me.
It all catches me off guard, and I sit up, shifting away from her still-reclining body.
"I'm sorry, Marcus." She says, sitting up and scooting closer. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up. That's all."
"I won't play their game, Nicole." I assert with a stern voice. "You know that. You know I won't let them rip me away from you."
"I know." She whispers, crawling into my arms. "Anything can happen, but...the odds are low. I need you to know that."
"I do," I state. "But I refuse to believe they are zero. There has to be something out there, Nicole. There has to be."
"Okay." She says. "I believe you."
We spend the rest of the night like that. Myself sitting against a tree with her body cradled in my arms. It's uncomfortable and the two of us sleep very little but it's enough for me to know that I'm with her. Even if she's right and one of us may have to live without the other soon enough, it's not something I have to live with right now.
And I'm very content with keeping it that way.
A/N: Alrighty! No deaths but I hope the chapter was still somewhat entertaining as we begin to explore the Arena and how the characters are handling the horrors of the bloodbath or the plethora of precarious alliances.
Alliances:
Robert, Ranger and Scylla
Marcus and Nicole
Malory and Enver
Sky, Ephron, Saxony, Marya and Smith
Quincy, Felix and Wells
Adam, Kaylee and Dahlia
KILL COUNT:
Scylla - 1
Quincy - 1
Ranger - 2
Felix. - 1
Robert - 1
- Neb