Welcome to wonderland
I'll be your guide
Holding your hand under sapphire skies
Let's go exploring or we could just go for
A walk
Wells "Weft" Bobbin
District 8, He/Him, 17
(Gummer Slough)
[8.26 AM]
...
The trek out of the Gardens is long and arduous, but, after a few hours on foot, the landscape begins to transform. No longer do the oak and sycamore trees surround us, and the winding path that we previously followed slowly disappears. The trees of the swamp we find ourselves in are sentinels encrusted in moss and draped in tendrils of resilient vines that aim to take over.
The rich perfumes of the gardens are replaced with an earthy and pungent blend of decaying vegetation and damp air. Meanwhile, the humidity wraps around me like a second skin and glistens brilliantly in the morning sun. As we continue to walk through the dense foliage of the swamp, my entire body screams in protest, and my legs ache to sit down and rest. I look forward to Felix, who continues with resolute persistence and I choose to ignore the doubts that attack my determination like the relentless factory whistles back home. He needs to see that I'm worthy of this alliance; I won't allow him to cut me off for being unable to keep up.
After Quincy's face appeared in the sky last night, the pressure seemed to have lifted from me. No longer did I have to hide from his intense glares or the point of his sword. No longer did I have to keep my feelings back, something I've never been able to do before, out of fear of provoking his rage. However, when I awoke today, I remembered who I was with. Felix is as determined as Quincy, and if I show weakness, he won't hesitate to push me away.
That's what I tell myself, at least, but it's hard to look past the person I've gotten to know in these past couple of days. He's been good to me; coming to my defence yesterday was a good example of that. Back home, Warp was always better with his words. He could tell people to fuck right off, and they would do what he said. The other side of that was my strength, and whenever Warp was in trouble, I knew I could come to his aid with my fists. But here? Well, I feel pretty useless compared to the likes of Felix, who has dedicated years to shaping his muscles. It's hard not to be captivated by his arms, every sinew and contour so meticulously sculpted as they slash through the branches.
"Just a little further, if we manage to find some swamp water, then some food should be with it." Felix says this and pauses to face me. I hastily snap my eyes from his arms to his face and feel heat course through me with embarrassment. He doesn't seem to notice, though, and turns back as I nod.
As we continue forward, my feet begin to stick to the ground with every step as the mud grows thicker.
"Felix, are you seeing this?" I ask, as I grow increasingly nervous of my feet beginning to sink into the mud.
"Yeah, we should be out of it soon." He calls back, and I watch as he struggles to pull his foot from the ground. But still, we persist.
It's not two minutes later until we reach a crossroads. The path to the left leads back to the same leaf-filled ground as earlier, and the mud looks to have come to a stop. On the right, the mud continues, but up ahead is the shimmer of a stretch of water.
"Well, we were looking for water." Felix says, craning his neck to me. "So, I say we go right."
I furrow my eyebrows skeptically. The path to the left feels like a much easier option, not having to trudge through the thick mud any longer. Then again, the path to the right does lead to water, and our water bottle has been empty since yesterday.
"Well?" Felix asks, and I feel the pressure to make a decision.
Something tells me that opting to the path to the right seems too good to be true. Who wouldn't pick the path to water when given a crossroads?
Then again, I don't have the energy to argue with Felix.
"Yeah, I guess right." I shrug, and he nods before taking lead. The mud grows harder to get through as we approach the water, but I continue to push ahead, and I ignore the fatigue that sweeps through me. "Much better up there?" I call ahead to Felix; the mud approaching the top of my calf.
"Not exactly," Felix says, the mud enveloping his legs up to his knees.
Then, as he takes another step, he falls. A scream lets loose from me as he slips through the mud and doesn't stop until half of his body is submerged, the mud reaching his neck.
"Help!" Felix calls out as he sinks lower and lower. My body freezes; shock surges through me. "Wells, do something!" He cries, and I attempt to move, but in the thick mud and with my fatigue setting, my efforts are futile. I look around for something—anything that can help me escape—but my vision is blurred by the tears that brim in my eyes. "Come on, Wells!" He shouts out, the mud surrounding his chest.
Worthless. Useless. I can't even get out of a pool of mud.
I cry out as I try, with all my might, to reach him. What I am to do when I get there, I don't know; all I know is that I need to get to him.
I take a look at my surroundings one more time, and I spot it—a branch inches away from my reach. I push myself to reach for it, arm stretching as far as it can get as I lean for salvation. "Please." I murmur, my fingers brushing against the rough bark. As I turn to Felix, the mud is slowly approaching his neck, and his arms are raised high above him.
Fucking...try...harder...
With one final stretch, I grasp the branch and pull it towards me. Without a moment to waste, I stick it out to Felix, and he grabs onto it. Then I begin to pull. With all the energy left in me, I force my feet to move backward and pull with all my might until, finally, he's back on his feet.
"I think we should try the other way."
I should probably laugh, but nothing feels very funny right now.
Smithsonian "Smith" Caldera
District 12, He/Him, 18
(Marmoreal)
[9.14 AM]
...
Everyone begins to awake from their peaceful slumber and, surprisingly, were able to sleep through the bursting beams of light from the sunrise. Not me, though. Last night was restless with my brain refusing to shut down as the possibilities of the coming days shoot around.
What I heard from Sky last night has only confirmed my suspicions—my grip on this alliance is slipping. Although Ephron and Saxony were seemingly hesitant when discussing ditching Marya and me, it won't be long until Sky manages to convince them otherwise. Then, they'll snatch up our bags and weapons in the middle of the night, fill them with food, and escape my reach. I am determined not to let that happen.
"Sleep well?" Saxony asks as we each sit up from our mattresses. When Sky suggested we take separate rooms, I'd countered it and recommended we stay close by. That way I can keep a close eye on them all. Of course, I couldn't care less if somebody slipped into their room in the middle of the night and slit their throat. In fact, maybe it would've been better to keep us apart after all.
"Well enough!" Marya replies, already wide awake and bringing breakfast supplies from downstairs—a loaf of bread and butter.
"What are our plans for today?" Sky asks once we're seated in a circle and eating.
"We should probably fill our bottles," Marya says before popping a berry into her mouth.
"The three of us could go this morning? Smith and you in the afternoon?" Ephron says, and everyone nods in agreement. Although we managed to form a large alliance from our two groups, the fact remains that there is an underlying sense of division. I suppose that's where my fault was, spending too much time with Marya and not being able to form that unity. Although I look back on it and kick myself, I'm acutely aware that I won't be the one to pay for it.
Once breakfast is over, I down the last of my water and hand my bottle to Ephron. Then, the three of them leave Marya and me in an awkward silence.
Neither of us have forgotten what she did yesterday when she decided to ruin my plan. Despite the lack of trust I have for her, I'm certain that she will have been shaken by the idea of the other three ditching us. Plus, as much as I'd love to spend the rest of these damn Games on my own, an ally is important, and I need to make sure that Marya will stick by me until I can cut her off.
"I have an idea." I say, interrupting the silence, and her gaze meets mine from where she fixes Ephron's bed.
"And that is?" She asks, setting down the blanket she was straightening.
"We ditch them before they ditch us."
"As in, leave them?" She questions, cocking her head.
"No, that wouldn't be helpful. We'd lose our shelter, our lake, and our food." I chuckle, a mischevious glint in my eye. "What would you say if I suggested we remove them from the equation...for good?"
She recoils, a twisted expression on her face, but I don't back down. I understand the risk that I'm taking, but if Marya knows what's good for her, she won't hesitate to take my side while I give her the chance.
"What the fuck, Smith?" She exclaims, her voice a mix of surprise and indignation, her twisted expression suddenly laced with anger. "Are you joking?"
I have a sudden urge to say yes, but I push it back. This is the only way.
"What if they decide to leave tonight? They wake up while we're still sleeping; they'll see our sleeping bodies on the ground." I insert a sense of fear into my voice, pressuring her empathetic side to take control. "It would be all too easy. They would take out their knives and stab us until our cannons went." I force tears into my eyes and wipe them away as they slip down my cheeks. "I want to go home, Marya."
Her eyes fill with the very empathy I was searching for, and she approaches me. "I understand, Smith. I want to get home too." She takes my hands into her own. "But we mustn't turn into monsters to do so. We are not killers, Smith, and I don't believe they are either."
"Nobody has ever won without killing." I murmur, averting my eyes to the floor.
"We could be the first." She smiles, gripping my hands tightly.
"And what if they take all our stuff in the middle of the night? They'd leave us stranded out here with nothing."
She sighs. "Look if they show any signs of leaving in, say, the next two days. Then...we'll figure something else out."
"Do you promise?" I ask, locking eyes with her.
"I promise." She says so, and I nod.
Two more days, and then I can put my plan into action. It's hardly ideal, but it's something I can work around.
I'll keep an eye on the other three, and if they show any signs of leaving, I will kill them.
It's hardly a nice thought—killing, that is—but nothing related to these Games is nice.
It's what must be done.
Adam Cooper
District 9, He/Him, 18
(The Scarlet Desert)
[1.46 PM]
...
Don't listen to her, Adam.
I told you what I wanted you to do.
Win for me in this arena or die trying.
Gena's voice repeats in my head like a haunting melody that refuses to back down. Each word is accentuated by the high pitch and disgusted tone that I've been longing to hear every day since her passing. The memories of the lies she used to make up about me in that bratty tone are no longer filled with anger, but instead with deep sadness and regret. She was only young; she didn't know any better.
My feet trudge across the desert sand monotonously, several feet ahead of Dahlia and Kaylee behind me. It hardly makes sense for us to continue forward, having spent the last few days doing so and finding close to nothing. But every time I think that we should turn back, it feels so pointless. We'll travel back to the gardens and find what? Possibly some fruit to replace the dry and raw cacti we feast on, but nothing more than that.
After hours of uncomfortable silence and the sun beating down on us, Kaylee comes to a stop with a gasp.
"Oh my god." She says, and I look to where she points—east from the direction we are travelling in.
In the distance is a monstrosity of a castle, filled with spires upon spires and painted in white and red. The sight of it takes whatever remaining breath in me right out; the sheer enormity of it is nothing compared to anything I've seen before. Not even the towering structures of the Capitol live up to such a beast of a building.
"We found it." Dahlia says, taking a few steps in the direction of the castle.
"Found what?" I ask, stepping with her.
"Whatever the hell we've been looking for." She replies, and, without another word, we begin our journey.
Despite the two of us talking for the first time since last night, the tension in the air continues, and I notice Kaylee's growing discomfort.
"Did something happen?" She asks when we're around a half-mile from the castle's entrance.
"Nothing." Dahlia states, and I scoff.
"You call that nothing?"
"Well, I wasn't sure if you wanted to share." Dahlia snaps back, turning to face me.
"I'd love to share." I retort before facing Kaylee, whose dark eyes are wide with shock. "Dahlia is insane. She makes things up for money and for some sick fun."
"That isn't true." Dahlia says, her voice suddenly quiet as she looks to the ground. "You don't know me."
"Oh, but I do. You prey on people's vulnerabilities in order to give yourself some power." I counter. "You are disgusting, Dahlia."
"Adam, where is this coming from?" Kaylee asks, her voice a mixture of confusion and concern.
"Last night, she told me that she saw Gena." I falter. "She said that Gena didn't want me to volunteer. That she had forgiven me. Gena would never say that because I don't deserve to be forgiven, not until this is all over."
"Did you tell him that, Dahlia?"
"I'm not crazy," is all they say.
"Keep telling yourself that." I spit before barging past her.
The castle looms larger as we approach, and the tension within the air remains palpable. As we reach the entrance, we come across a gate adorned with intricate designs and symbols. I'm able to make out a few roses and, what is truly unsettling, the carving of an axe.
"Does it open?" Kaylee asks, and I shove the gate in response, but to no avail.
"Nope," I state. "And I don't have the energy to walk around this thing and look for another way in."
"What else are we going to do?" Kaylee sighs.
Dahlia remains silent. Hopefully, they're starting to feel the pressure of my accusations weigh down on them. Then she will crack, and she will admit that she made it all up in order to garner a reaction from me.
"We'll climb." I say and, without another word, hop up onto the gate.
There was never much time for climbing back in Nine, but I got the hang of it fairly quickly, pulling myself up and lodging my feet in any available space. Within a couple of minutes, I'd reached the top of the gate.
"Alright, come on, Kaylee." I call down to her, signalling for her to begin her climb.
She takes it more slowly than me; her upper body strength is not able to pull her up as effortlessly. Nonetheless, she soon reaches the top of the gate, and I help her over before telling her to make her way down. Then, I call down to Dahlia. They're able to climb up quicker than Kaylee, although not as quick as me, and within a few minutes I'm reaching for their hand to pull them over the gate.
As their skin touches mine, I feel a sense of revulsion. Part of me doesn't want to help such a monster, but Kaylee would never forgive me otherwise.
Once we're all down, I take the time to scout our surroundings. We're in a grand courtyard with bushes upon bushes of roses stacked around ten feet high; some are white and some are red, and some are oddly half and half. It's filled with an eerie silence that pushes me to look past its beauty and continue forward to the entrance of the castle.
When we reach the doors, I begin to hear a scraping noise and stop in my tracks.
"Can anybody else hear that?" I ask, turning to face Kaylee and Dahlia, who are a couple of feet away from me.
"The scraping? Yeah, I wonder what it is." Kaylee says, furrowing her eyebrows and looking up.
Unfortunately, Kaylee's wonder doesn't last long. As the three of us look up in the sky, we find the source of the noise. It's the largest bird I've ever seen; in fact, I'm not sure if it is a bird. It's fifteen feet tall and wide, with vibrant plumage—a mix of bright reds, whites, and blues. Its wings are oddly shaped, its beak is long and twisted, and its talons (which scratch against the roof of the castle's entrance) are sharp and ready to kill. It's safe to say that it's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen.
Then, we all begin to scream as it dives down and snatches Dahlia up with its claws. Terror rushes through me as she soars through the sky with such a horrifying cacophony that I'm not sure if it comes from her or the bird. However, that very scream snaps me back into reality, and I grab Kaylee and pull her into the castle entrance to shield us from its diving attacks.
After only a moment, Dahlia's body falls from the sky and lands with a crack.
Kaylee and I stand in shock, certain that she is dead. That is, until she begins to groan.
"She's alive!" Kaylee cries. "Adam, we have to do something!"
The revulsion that I once felt for Dahlia dissipates as her crumpled body squirms in pain.
"Okay, okay." I say, thinking. "Run out as fast as you can; grab her by the arms, and I'll grab her by the legs. Got it?"
Kaylee nods, and, without another second of planning, we rush into the open air.
Nicole Gatsby
District 5, She/Her, 17
(Tugley Woods)
[4.29 PM]
...
"Come on." I whisper to the hole I've made in the ground, urging water to seep into it.
My heart races in anticipation as I peer down into it, and, finally, water begins to form. I sigh in relief, scooping the water into my bottle, which, by the end, is around a quarter of the way full. It's hardly enough to quench my deepening thirst, and I struggle to stop myself from downing it, my tongue hanging on to every drop. Once done, I head back to the spot where I left Marcus.
It isn't difficult to find him; I simply listen to the distant sounds of his frustration and anger as they reverberate across the woods. No part of me is in a hurry to get back to his screaming and relentless rage, so I take my time, feigning interest in the ancient trees that look down on me like a grandmother would a child. Not that I know anything about that, the closest thing I've had to parents in the last seven years is Jericho and he hardly counts.
"Fuck you!" Marcus screams as I draw closer, and I can't help but let out a sigh.
I thought I'd put an end to this all, but yesterday, he awoke with more ferocity than ever before. He's likely growing desperate as the days go on and cannons sound, but feeling such a lack of control has me on edge. After all, control is how I've stayed alive all of these years, and to let that go now would be giving up in and of itself. Somehow, I'm going to have to figure out a way to subdue Marcus or risk neither of us boarding the next train home.
"Hey," I say as I walk into the clearing. "Come get a drink."
He turns, his intense gaze locking into my own.
The fire that burns in his eyes is one I know all too well from my time as a street urchin desperately trying to find my place in the world. I had nowhere to go and nobody to rely on but myself, and I was so frustrated that I lost myself. If I'm being honest, I don't think I ever found myself again. The Fire Wolves had been my only care, that is, until I found Marcus. Now I might lose both of them, and, really, who am I then?
"Not thirsty." Marcus mutters.
"We don't have time for this."
"Time for what?"
"For you to mope about."
"Oh, yeah?" He spits. "Well, I'm sorry that my trying to save us is such an inconvenience to you."
"It is." I state, crossing my arms in defiance. "You seriously think you can save us? I'm fairly sure they built this forcefield to be unbreakable, Marcus, so it'd take a little more than a log to get through it."
"Fuck you, Nicole."
"All I ask is that you do something productive." I sigh. "Do something that will actually get us out of here."
"Fine." He says, and, as he takes a few steps towards me, I'm surprised at how easy it was to convince him.
Then he turns and charges towards the forcefield with a battle cry. I stand in utter shock as he dives into it and flies right back, an electric blue shooting into him. Without another minute of hesitation, I rush towards him with a sob.
"Marcus? Marcus, are you okay?" I cry as I try to catch his pulse.
It's still beating, but it's weak.
In desperation, I begin pressing down on his chest. CPR is hardly a skill of mine, but I've watched it be done before, and I mimic Jericho's actions as he attempted to save one of the Fire Wolves who had been strangled. I gently tilt back his head and pinch his nose, then press my mouth against it and blow firmly. For a few minutes, nothing happens, and a couple of times I hear the cannon shot in my head and force myself to check his pulse.
"Come on, Marcus. Don't stop fighting." I whisper, ignoring the tears streaming down my face.
The woods around me seem to close in and only make me more determined, each compression a plea for life. As I check his pulse once more, there is very little change, and I strive forward, determined to beat my race against time. Death will not take him; I refuse to let it.
"Do not fucking die on me!" I cry, and my voice chokes with emotion.
Finally, a gasp escapes his lips, and hope washes over me. Uncertainty continues to hang in the air. Maybe it had been my mind playing tricks on me?
Then a weak cough lets loose, and I throw my trembling body over him.
"What the hell?" He mumbles, shoving me off him.
I refuse to let it bother me, not with the relief that courses through me.
"Are you okay?"
"Are we still in the arena?" He asks, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.
"Yes, we're still here."
His previously confused expression twists into a scowl, his jaw clenching with anger.
"That wasn't supposed to happen." He says this through gritted teeth, standing with me. "It was either we get out or I die."
"Are you stupid?" I hiss, any concern or shock dissipating as I approach him. "Ever since we got into this arena, you've been acting like a moron! Were you not a leader back home? Were you as weak as you are here?"
As soon as it comes out, I know I should take it back, but somehow I have to knock some sense into him. Unfortunately, it only causes the vein on his head to pulse quicker, and, in a matter of seconds, he explodes once more and shoves me back.
I slam against a tree and scream out in pain.
"Marcus, let go of me!" I yell as he holds my wrists against the tree.
"I am not weak."
Spit flies from his mouth, and I fly with it, back to a distant memory.
Jericho was holding me against a building and laughing maniacally. I felt helpless and afraid as his hand brushed against my face. In a desperate attempt, I bit at his fingers and narrowly missed.
"Now, now, Nicole. Don't bite from the hand that feeds you." He chuckled.
And, as his lips grew closer to mine, I knew I had to do something to protect myself from the man I had called a friend. The man who had taken me off the streets and taken me under his wing.
Before our lips could touch, I shoved him with all my might, and he toppled to the floor. I didn't waste time running, not when he could easily catch up to me. Instead, I'd kicked and punched, and I'd beat him until he was bloody and lifeless.
Once I'd dragged him into an alleyway, I vowed never to let someone else take control of me again.
Just like I'd done on that day, I shove Marcus using every muscle in my body, but unlike Jericho, he doesn't budge. My heart races as he refuses to let go of me, frothing at the mouth like a diseased rat. The only thought running through me is to get him off.
In any way I can.
That's when I remember the knife attached to my belt.
"We're both going to die here, Nicole."
"No," I whisper as I grab the knife and plunge it into his waist.
Immediately, he's on the floor, and blood is spilling out as he groans in pain.
I'm overcome with emotions. Guilt, regret, and relief.
Relief as I realise I'm free from his grip.
Then utter anguish as his cannon sounds, and I realise what I've done.
Robert Smith
District 1, He/Him, 18
(The Cornucopia)
[7.12 PM]
...
The familiar grasp of my sword doesn't help ease my discomfort.
Four days in the arena filled with consistent paranoia as I turn every corner of the gardens outside the Cornucopia. It was never supposed to be like this. I was told I was ready for what I would witness in here and what I would have to do, yet I can't help but feel anxious at every step. The deaths I had watched on TV had been nothing but another tribute down. At the time, I had analysed the quality of the kill rather than focused on who had been killed.
Who that person had been, who they could have been.
That all came crashing down when I came across Aisling's lifeless body splayed across the ground. Throat slit, hair bloody. They weren't the person I had trained with or talked with late at night on my balcony. The confidence I had helped them build over the last week was gone in an instant when their pulse stopped beating, and that sudden realisation scared me.
What if none of this truly was for nothing? Aisling trained for this their entire life, just as I did.
Yet, in a matter of minutes, they were nothing but flesh and bones.
A shudder shoots down my spine at the thought. Robert Smith, District One Male in the 24th Annual Hunger Games—all that's left of him is flesh and bones. Would everything I worked for be forgotten so soon? Surely it would; after all, the only thing I've ever truly achieved is my spot in these games, and if I don't win, well, if I don't win, then what have I done?
"Are you coming, Robert?" Someone says, causing my eyes to fly open. In the process of getting stuck in my mind, I somehow managed to nod off.
"Coming where?" I ask, my voice groggy. Scylla raises her eyebrows at me, clearly unimpressed.
"Hunting?"
"Right, uh, I think I'll sit this one out."
"And why's that?" She crosses her arms, frowning.
Frustration bubbles inside of me, but I push it down.
"I'm tired, and every time we go out there, we do nothing but lose energy."
She scoffs. "So you'd rather sit here and not try?"
"If that's the alternative,"
She rolls her eyes and doesn't bother to say goodbye as she leaves.
It's only a few minutes later when Ranger enters the Cornucopia, nodding to me. "Did you have any dinner?"
"No, I'm not very hungry."
An awkward silence follows, as it usually does with Ranger, but neither of us seem phased about it. I've gotten used to silence after so many years in my head, convincing myself that training every day and following the path others set out for me was the best I could do. Again, I get the nagging sense that I was wrong to go all these years focused on solely that. Others too; I doubt it has crossed my parents' minds that there might be more for me than the title of Victor.
Life would probably be a hell of a lot easier if I had followed in my sister's footsteps. Skylark never cared for The Hunger Games; she did what was expected of her and moved on when she had surpassed reaping age. I could've done the same, but, no, the trainers had to see my aptitude in combat, and, from there, there was no question about it. I was going to be a victor.
"Why did you volunteer?" I ask, breaking our comfortable silence.
Ranger looks up from where they examine a spear, their expression as unreadable as ever.
"My Mother." They state this before redirecting their attention to the spear.
The way they say it so simply causes me to question myself further. Is that the only reasoning necessary?
My parents wanted me to do this, so I did it for them.
Still, it doesn't feel right. What I need is to understand why I volunteered for myself. A little clarity or something to remind me of why I'm here.
"Why did you volunteer?"
"Because my mother expected me to, and I refuse to let her down."
"But what's in that for you?" I question further. "You win, and then what? You get married, have a family?"
"I don't bother with fantasies, Robert." They sigh. "Right now, all I want to do is get this over with."
I cross my arms and slump against the cornucopia wall. Despite being trained in communication in the academy, it's damn near impossible to get the slightest information about Ranger out of them. Then again, I've never been one to back down from a challenge, and now that I have a goal, I'm determined to reach it.
As Ranger grabs their bottle from the ground, something occurs to me.
"Isn't that the same water you were drinking yesterday?" I ask, certain that they haven't been to the gardens and therefore haven't been able to refill their bottle with the colder pond water. They eye me strangely as they take a small sip and then set the bottle down.
"I suppose it is," they say offhandedly.
"Well, are you not thirsty? Is the water not warm?"
"I am thirsty; that is why I took a drink."
"So, we've been here for four days, and you've only drunk a bottle's worth of water?"
They take a deep breath through their noses, and I hold back a smile as I realise I'm going to get what I wanted.
"You know I'm a cyborg, Robert." They say.
"Like, you have a robotic arm? Yeah, sure." I shrug, and they shake their head with a sigh. "What am I missing?"
"See for yourself." They say then approach me, pull down their sleeve, and outstretch their supposedly human arm.
At first, I don't notice anything out of the ordinary. Then, I discern the way the ambient light reflects off of parts of Ranger's arm. It's a faint metallic sheen. Furthermore, I'm able to make out the stitches and screws embedded into their skin. Curiosity fills me, and I reach out to touch their arm, but they pull away before I get the chance.
"What happened to you?" I ask once I'm able to push away the initial shock.
"I got into a fight with another trainee. She got me good, and my mother did everything she could to save me." They say as they retreat back to the weapon racks. "I don't need as much water or food as you and Scylla. And if you must know, then that is why I do this; my mother saved me, and in return, I'm offering her everything she has ever wanted for me."
When Ranger speaks about their mother, all I hear is loyalty and love. It strikes me that, some day, I want somebody to feel the same way about me that Ranger feels about their mother. I want them to look to me for protection, and I want to care for them so they don't ever worry. With the house, the honour, and the riches that come with being a victor, I can provide that for somebody. A partner, a child. A family of my own.
"I'm sorry that happened to you." I say to Ranger, and their eyes grow wide as if they're taken aback.
"Nobody ever said that. That they were sorry."
A/N: This is long overdue, I've been lacking in motivation these past couple of weeks.
Please leave a review if you have the time/motivation!
Alliances:
Robert, Ranger and Scylla
Malory and Enver
Sky, Ephron, Saxony, Marya and Smith
Felix and Wells
Adam, Kaylee and Dahlia
THE FALLEN:
17th Place - Marcus Russel (D5M). Stabbed through the waist with a knife by Nicole Gatsby (D5F). Submitted by wiifan2002
RIP Marcus. There was always going to be one of you, either you or Nicole, that went out early and I did end up deciding on you. You loved Nicole very much but the Games and the Capitol brought out a new side to you. You lost control and you couldn't handle that after so many years of being in control, as a result, you understandably lashed out but not only on the Capitol but the one you loved most. You were our rebellious tribute in this story and, for that, I appreciate you because a tribute who stands up to the Capitol is one that is confident and strong! Thank you so much wiifan2002 for him!
KILL COUNT:
Scylla - 2
Quincy - 1
Ranger - 2
Felix - 1
Robert - 1
Nicole - 1
- Neb