Chapter Nineteen
After switching shifts in the early morning, I decided to let Wesley sleep in until around noon, seeing as how nothing eventful was happening. He needed a good rest anyways. He hasn't stopped since we've been in the arena and considering it's become a full time job trying to keep eachother alive, we're going to need all the energy we can get.
We sit side by side at the stream, the blazing afternoon sun beating down on us. The Gamemakers have turned up the temperature to melt all the snow the avalanche caused. Wesley sifts through all the edible plants we've gathered, as well as more yarrow, which we apply religiously.
"What do you think our family is doing back home?" I ask him, weaving a net out of the tall grasses growing by the water.
"Probably appreciating the fact they're not us," Wesley smirks. I'm not entirely sure, but I strongly suspect our humor has darkened since witnessing so much death. I don't mind it. If we didn't joke and laugh, we'd cry. Well, I would, anyway.
"What do you suppose Finnick is thinking?" I ask, thinking of our mentor, sadness blooming my chest. He's become like family, and I do miss him. I wish he could tell us how both of us could get out of this arena alive. Unfortunately, rules are rules and there's no way in hell they would let both of us win. That would be the biggest slap in the face to the authority of the Capitol I can imagine. Other than starting a full-out rebellion.
"He's probably worried that you have a trident in your possession," Wesley says, eyeing the silver weapon next to me. "I know I am."
"Shut-up," I say, smiling. My fingers work swiftly, weaving a decent sized net. Too bad there aren't any fish in this stream. There have to be fish somewhere in this damn arena. We haven't really explored the forest, knowing the other tributes lurk within. There's probably another source of water, considering I haven't seen any of them come here for water.
"Do you think we should explore the forest?" I ask, tossing the net aside.
"It's worth a shot. I don't know how much longer we can survive on nuts and plants," Wesley agrees, making a face. My stomach growls loudly, the thought of real food, enticing.
"I wish we had some rice and salmon," I think aloud, my mouth watering uncontrollably. "With lemon," I add, daydreaming about hot food.
"I miss the roasted meat, with the mashed potatoes, carrots, and red wine sauce," Wesley says, laying on his back, closing his eyes. That was a good meal, too.
I start packing away the plants, and the net I made. Sitting up, Wesley throws his backpack on his back, and holds a hand out to me. I take it, and he pulls me up. We don't let go of each other as we walk towards the forest. Hand in hand, we make our way into the dense wooded area, full of thick brush, and sounds of wildlife.
"Where do you think Zane is?" I ask quietly, observing our surroundings carefully.
"No idea. We know he's still alive," Wesley answers, his eyes darting around.
The forest seems endless as we make our way through the thick foliage. The pine trees stand tall, their needles creating a dense canopy above us, only letting slivers of sunlight reach the forest floor. The air is warmer, filled with the scent of pine resin and damp soil.
When the trees begin to thin, I spot a small pond directly under a clearing of trees. The sun bathes the pond in golden rays, the blue water sparkling. It looks enticing, too enticing…
I can tell Wesley is thinking the same, as we both stare at the water. Is it poison? This has to be the only other water source here, since the others haven't been to the meadow.
As I'm contemplating this, a flash of movement catches the corner of my eye. Lira and Evander crash through the dense forest, weapons drawn.
Lira's sword gleams menacingly, its blade catching the light. Beside her, Evander brandishes his own sword, ready to fight. I clutch my trident tightly, though its unfamiliar weight feels unwieldy in my hands. I've never even held a trident before, let alone used it in combat.
Wesley immediately pulls his crossbow from his back and loads it with quick precision. He aims it at Lira, while watching Evander form the corner of his eye.
"We don't have to do this," Wesley speaks, his voice strong.
"Actually, we do. There's one winner and it's not going to be either of you," Lira says angrily, her face a mask of fury. Wesley pulls the trigger just as Lira charges me. The bolt flies through the air, narrowly missing her.
Lira swings her sword violently. I barely manage to deflect her blow with the trident, the force nearly knocking me off balance.
Evander has engaged Wesley, his sword clashing against Wesley's crossbow. The metallic clang of their weapons rings out, echoing off the trees.
I struggle to keep up with Lira's relentless attacks. Her sword is fast and precise, while my trident feels clumsy and foreign. Every parry and block is a challenge. I try to anticipate her movements, but she's too skilled, her blade slicing through the air with a deadly grace.
With a quick thrust, Lira forces me back, and I stumble, nearly falling into the pond. I regain my footing in time to see Wesley grappling with Evander. Wesley's movements are fierce but clearly pained; a gash I notice on his side bleeding profusely.
Desperation fuels me. I spot a chance when Lira overextends on an attack. I manage to use the trident's spear to push her back, buying myself an invaluable second.
Lira comes at me again, but this time, I'm ready. I thrust the trident, the long spearhead catching her off guard. It's a lucky strike, but it's enough to stagger her. Seizing the opportunity, I follow up with a decisive thrust, catching her in the side. She gasps, collapsing to the ground, her sword slipping from her grasp. The cannon rings out immediately.
Breathing heavily, I turn to see Wesley pummeling Evander's face in. Wesley's knuckles are completely ripped open, two masses of bloody flesh pounding Evander's face which is unrecognizable. His cannon goes off, but Wesley is still landing punches into Evander's face.
"Wesley," I say, my voice low and steady. He doesn't stop. I grab his shoulder roughly, and he throws his arm out, knocking me over. This seems to pull him out of whatever trance he was in. He blinks rapidly, glancing down at his hands which are a mess.
"Are you okay?" I ask, warily. He catches his breath, swaying as he stands.
"I'm fine. Are you hurt?" he asks me, stumbling over to me. He falls to the ground, weak. I jolt upright and kneel beside him. I lift his shirt, all the blood draining from my face. A deep wound extends from his ribs across to his abdomen. The blood is flowing at a steady rate. I quickly rip my jacket off my waist, and press it as hard as I can into his side.
"Wesley what do I do?" I panic, my voice trembling. His breathing slows, and his bloodied hand covers mine.
"Become the next Victor," he breathes. No no no no….My mind races with what little medical knowledge I possess. I can't sew him up, we don't have that much thread and this is way worse than a cut from a knife.
"Finnick! If you're watching this, please send me something!" I shout, tears streaming down my face.
"Amara, there's nothing that can save me…" Wesley says, his eyes finding mine. "I love you. I've always loved you…I never knew life could be this beautiful until I met you."
"If love was enough to save you…God, Wesley!" I sob, my heart feeling as though it's about to explode in my chest.
With trembling fingers, Wesley takes off his leather bracelet and holds it out to me. "Take this…so you'll always have a piece of me with you."
I accept the bracelet, tying it around my wrist. I press my lips to his, noticing his lips are colder than they've ever been.
"I love you forever," I whisper, burying my face into his chest. The world around me crumbles. I stay there, holding him, even after his cannon sounds off.
I can't bring myself to leave his body. I know the hovercraft that collects the tribute's corpses is waiting above me, but they won't retrieve them until I've walked away. Usually, the Gamemakers will trigger some event, to clear the area. They haven't done that yet. I silently thank them for giving me this time to lay my head on his chest one last time. I breathe deeply, and beneath the strong metallic smell of blood, I can faintly discern Wesley's scent.
I slowly sit up, and give him one more kiss before I start gathering our stuff. My movements are mechanical, like I'm on autopilot. I don't look back when the hovercraft collects them.
The grief is overwhelming, like a heavy blanket smothering me, pulling me down into a chasm of despair. The world seems so much colder and darker without him, a shadow casting over me.
But even as the grief threatens to consume me, I know I can't let it win. Wesley's memory is a flame that burns too brightly to be extinguished by sorrow. I have to survive, not just for myself, but for him. He believed in me, in my strength and my ability to overcome. I owe it to him to keep moving forward, to honor his sacrifice by winning this fight.
With each step I take, I carry a part of Wesley with me. His love, his courage, his selflessness—they fuel me, driving me to keep going despite the pain. I won't let his memory fade. I will fight with every ounce of strength I have, pushing through the grief and the fear, determined to emerge victorious. For Wesley.