Chapter Sixteen
The night is still, and the only light making its way into our cave is from the open ledge. The moonlight bleaches everything in silver, the cave darkest from where we entered from the crevice. Wesley sits against the rock wall, near the ledge, holding pressure on his arm.
I sift through his pack, taking the suture kit out, bandages, and water. I notice Wesley has stolen packs of food, an abundance of medical supplies, rope, water, and small weapons. Why would he pack all this and strap the knives to me while we were sleeping?
"Were you planning on leaving?" I ask him, looking at the array of supplies.
"Before the wolves came, I was going to wake you, and we were going to leave them," Wesley explains. "I didn't trust them, and turns out I was right not to."
"Yeah," I say bitterly, thinking about how Lira just left us to die. "I have to take care of your arm. Tell me what to do," I instruct Wesley as I gather all the supplies.
"Use the water and clean bandages to rinse the wound," his voice calm and reassuring. My hands tremble slightly as I pour water over the wound, washing away the blood and dirt. Wesley grits his teeth but doesn't make a sound.
"Okay, what's next?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Take the needle and thread from the kit. You'll need to thread the needle first," he explains. This I know I can do, having done it many times to fish. When that's done, I look up at him expectantly.
"Hold the needle with the needle forceps," he continues, watching me closely. I pause and look at him, lost. "The plier-looking things," he clarifies, smiling. I pick up the needle with the needle forceps like I saw him do before he stitched me up.
"Start at one end of the wound. Push the needle through the skin, and pull it through the other side," he says. I take a deep breath and do as he instructs, pushing the needle through his skin. He flinches slightly, but remains silent.
"Now pull the thread through, but leave enough at the end to tie a knot," he says. I pull the thread through, leaving a small length at the end.
"Good. Now tie a knot at the end to keep the thread in place," he instructs. I tie a knot, my hands moving automatically now.
"Move about a quarter of an inch down the wound, and repeat the process," he says. I continue stitching the wound, my focus entirely on the task at hand. Each stitch brings a small sense of relief, knowing that I'm helping him.
After what feels like an eternity, I tie off the final stitch and cut the excess thread. I sit back, my hands shaking slightly. Wesley looks at his arm, then at me, a small smile playing on his lips.
"You did great," he says, his voice filled with warmth and gratitude.
"You didn't know? I was a surgeon in another life," I joke, smiling. He laughs, grabbing bandages from the pile.
"Well, here, Dr. Hale, put these bandages on me," he tells me, handing me the clean linen bandages. I smile, wrapping his arm securely. I grab more bandages, and set them out. Wesley raises an eyebrow, his eyes flicking down to my leg, that is now soaked in blood. His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, before he starts helping me set up again for more stitching.
"Okay, it's my turn to play doctor, now," he says, his voice steady and reassuring. "I need to re-stitch your calf."
I nod, biting my lip to keep from showing how much it hurts. "Just be gentle," I say with a weak smile.
He chuckles, softly. "I'll do my best."
He carefully cleans the wound with water from our canteen, just as he instructed me earlier. His touch is light, but the pain still makes me wince. Wesley looks up at me, his eyes filled with worry.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly.
"It's okay," I reply. "Just do what you have to do."
He nods and takes the needle and thread from the suture kit. His hands are quick and steady as he threads the needle. "You ready?" he asks, glancing at me.
"Ready as I'll ever be," I smirk.
He grips the needle with the needle forceps and begins stitching the wound. Each prick of the needle sends a jolt of pain through my leg, but I focus on Wesley's face, trying to distract myself. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his ice blue eyes intense as he works.
"You're doing great," he murmurs, not looking up. "Just a few more stitches."
I nod, clenching my fists to keep from crying out. Finally, he ties off the last stitch and cuts the thread. He sits back, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Done," he breathes in relief. "Let's bandage it up."
He wraps my calf with a clean bandage, securing it tightly. When he finishes, he sits back and looks at me, his eyes filled with concern.
"How do you feel?" he asks.
"Like I obviously did a better job," I say. He rolls his eyes at me and shakes his head. "I'll survive. Thanks, Wesley."
He smiles, his eyes softening. "Of course."
I feel a warmth spread through my chest. "So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" I ask.
Wesley's expression turns serious. "First, we need to find some herbal remedies for our wounds. We need to stock up on water and food as well."
"Okay, where should we go?" I ask, packing up all our supplies. Too bad we don't have any sleeping bags, and we can't start a fire. The temperature is dropping even further.
"Let's go to the stream and fill canteens. We can scout the Cornucopia, and see if anyone's guarding it," Wesley suggests. I agree with him. Lira and Evander might go back there. I can't imagine them holding it off for long, as the other tributes' supplies dwindle, they will get more desperate and try to take the Cornucopia for themselves.
"You go to sleep, I'll watch until morning," I say fiercely, letting Wesley know it is non-negotiable. Without protest, he crosses his arms, and retreats further into the cave, away from the ledge.
"Wake me up if anything happens, do you understand me?" he asks, his eyes serious. I nod, taking my spot near the small crevice, in case anyone tries to come in.
As Wesley falls into an uneasy sleep beside me, I find myself staring up at the jagged ceiling of the cave, listening to the distant sounds of the night. The events of the past day replay in my mind, an endless loop of violence, fear, and pain.
The night air is cold against my skin, but it does little to soothe the fire burning in my calf. I try to shift into a more comfortable position, but every movement sends a fresh wave of agony through my leg. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, not wanting Wesley to wake up. He needs his rest.
I can't stop thinking about the bloodbath. The chaos, the screams, the feeling of Jaime's lifeless body as I tore the spear out of it. It was self-defense, I tell myself, but the image of his body crumpling to the ground, haunts me. Same with his district partner. The feeling of the tip of my spear cracking through her ribcage is sickening. I didn't just kill them; I ended their stories. People who had mothers and fathers, possibly siblings, who had to watch me end the life of their loved one.
And then there was Inara. I remember the look of triumph when she thought she had me. The weight of her body keeping me down, the sharp sting of her knife. But I survived. I fought as hard as I could, and with Lira's help, I made it through. Lira, who left me behind to save herself and Evander. How can I expect anything different from them? After all, there was going to be a point where we'd have to kill each other. There's only one Victor. Still, the guilt gnaws at me. How many more will I have to kill before this is over? How much more blood will stain my hands?
I glance over at Wesley, his face relaxed in sleep. He looks so peaceful, so unlike the fierce warrior he was just hours ago. I think about how he saved me, how he protects me. He's been my rock, my anchor through all of this.
My thoughts drift to Zane. The thought of him out there, somewhere in the dark, fills me with dread and anxiety. He's a predator, cunning and ruthless. We haven't seen the last of him, I'm sure of that. He's out there, waiting for the right moment to strike. And when he does, we need to be ready.
The sky outside the cave is beginning to lighten, the first hints of dawn creeping in. The sun will rise soon, bringing a new day, another chapter in this nightmare. We need to find food and water, and hopefully some plants that will help heal our wounds. It's a never-ending struggle for survival.
As the first rays of sunlight filter into the cave, I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to gather my strength. We made it through the night. Now, we just have to make it through the day.