I remain at the window long after the woods have swallowed up the last glimpse of my home. This time I don't have even the slightest hope of returning. Before my first Games, I promised my mother I would do everything I could to win, and now I've sworn to myself to do all all I can to keep Katniss and Peeta alive, they are the hope we need. I will never reverse this journey again.
I'd actually figured out what I wanted my last words to my loved one to be. How best to close and lock the doors and leave them sad but safely behind. And now the Captiol has stolen that as well.
I go straight to my room. I sit in the bed. Too heartsick to cry, I want to curl up on the bed and sleep until we arrive in the Capitol tomorrow morning. But I have a mission. No, it's more than a mission. It's my dying wish. Keep Katniss and Peeta alive. It had originally been Haymitch's idea who had talked to the new Head Gamemaker, who is apparently on our side. Finnick had informed me of the plan the day before the reaping. And as unlikely as it seems that I can achieve it in the face of the Capitol's anger, it is important that I be at the top of my game. This won't happen if I'm mourning for everyone I love. Let them go, I tell myself. But the image of Finnick appears in my mind, and I know that there is no way I can let him go.
By the time Mica knocks on my door to call me to dinner, I'm empty. But the lightness isn't entirely unwelcome.
The meal's subdued. So subdued, in fact, that there are long periods of silence relieved only by the removal of old dishes and presentation of new ones. A cold soup of pureed vegetables. Fish cakes with creamy lime paste. Those little birds filled with orange sauce, with wild rice and watercress. Chocolate custard dotted with cherries.
Nolan and Mica make occasional attempts at conversation that quickly die out.
"I love your new hair, Mica," Nolan says.
"Thank you. I had it especially done to match Ember's dress from her first Games,''says Mica. Seeing as everyone was done eating Mica looked between Me, Nolan, and Willow. "Shall we watch the recap of the reapings?" She says, dapping at the corners of her mouth with a white linen napkin. We are all in place as the anthem begins to play and the annual recap of the reaping ceremonies in the twelve districts begins.
In the history of the Games, there have been seventy five victors. Fifty-nine are still alive. I recognize many of their faces, either from seeing them as tributes or mentors at previous Games. Some are so old or wasted by illness, drugs, or drink that I can't place them. As one would expect, the pool of Career tributes from District 1, 2, and 4 are the largest. But every district has managed to scrape up at least one female and one male victor.
The reapings go by quickly. Nolan and Willow watch, their faces devoid of emotion, as friends of theirs step up to take the stage. Mica makes hushsed, distressed comments like, "Oh, not Cecelia '' or "Well, Chaff never could stay out of a fight," and sighs frequently.
For my part, I try to make a mental record of the other tributes, but I only remember a few. There's the classically beautiful brother and sister from Distritct 1 who were victors in consecutive years when I was little. Brutus, a volunteer from District 2, who must be at least forty and apparently can't wait to get back in the arena. Finnick, the handsome bronze-haired guys from District 4 who was crowned ten years ago at the age of fourteen, the youngest ever to win the Games. He also happens to be my best friend. Maybe even more than a friend, but it's too late to tell him now that we both might die.
A hystierical young woman with flowing brown hair is also called from 4, Annie, but she's quickly replaced by a volunteer, an eighty-year old woman who needs a cane to walk to the stage. Mags, a woman I got to know when I was instructed to go to Distict 4. Also one of my friends. Then there's Johanna Mason, the only living female victor from 7, who won a few years after I did by pretending she was a weakling. The woman from 8 who Mica calls Cecelia, who looks about thirty, has to detach herself from the three kids who run up to cling to her.
Then they are calling Willow's name and me volunteering to take her place with Nolan being called. Chaff, a man from 11 who I know to be one of Haymitch's particular friends, is also in.
Katniss Everdeen is called seeing as she is the only female victor from 12 and then Hyamitch, and Peeta volunteers. One of the announcers actually gets teary because it seems the odds will never be in our favor. Then she pulls herself together to say she bets that "these will be the best Games ever!"
Willow leaves the compartment without a word, and Mica, after making a few unconnected comments about this tribute or that, bids us good night. I just sit there watching Nolan as he stands up.
"Why don't you get some sleep?" he says.
Because I can't handle the nightmares. Not by myself. I think. they are sure to be dreadful tonight. But I can hardly ask Nolan to keep me company while I sleep when I know he struggles as well. "What are you going to do?" I ask.
"Just review my notes for a while. Get a clear picture of what we're up against. Go to bed, Ember," he says.
So I got to bed, and sure enough, within a few hours I awake from a nightmare where Mags from District 4 transforms into a large rodent and gnaws on my face. I know I was screaming, but no one comes. Not Willow, not even one of the Capitol attendants. I pull on my robe to try to calm the goosebumps crawling over my body. Staying in my compartment is impossible, so I decided to go find someone to make me tea to hot chocolate or anything. Maybe Nolan is still up. Surely he isn't asleep.
I order warm milk, the most calming thing I can think of, from an attendant. Hearing voices from the television room, I go in and find Nolan. Beside him on the couch is the box Mica sent the tapes of the old Hunger Games. I recognize the episode in which Brutus becomes victor.
Nolan rises and flips off the tape when he sees me. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Not for long," I say. I pull the robe more securely around me as I remember Mags transforming into the rodent.
"Want to talk about it?" He asks. Sometimes that can help but I just shake my head, feeling weak that people I haven't even fought yet already haunt me.
When Nolan holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. It's the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he's offered me any sort of affection. He's been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Willow and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. He became the father figure that I lacked in my life. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair.
The arrival of the Capitol Attendant with the warm milk is what breaks us apart. He sets a tray with a streaming ceramic jug and two mugs on a table. "I brought an extra cup," he says.
"Thanks," I say.
"And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice," he adds. He looks at us like he wants to say more, then gives his head a slight shake and backs out of the room.
"What's with him?" I say.
"I think he feels bad for us," says Nolan.
"Right," I say, pouring the milk.
"I mean it. I don't think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about their favorites going back in," says Nolan. "They get attached to their chamions."
I nod my head, knowing that some of them grow attached to some victors more than others. "I'm guessing they'll get over it once the blood starts flowing," I say flatly. Really, if there's one thing I don't have time for, it's worrying about how the Quarter Quell will affect the mood in the Capitol. "So, you're watching all the tapes again?"
"Not really. Just sort of skipping around to see people's different fighting techniques, "says Nolan.
"Who's next?" I ask.
"You pick," says Nolan, holding out the box.
The tapes are marked with the year of the Games and the name of the victor. I dig around and suddenly find one in my hand that we have not watched. The year of the Games is twenty. That would make it just before the first Quarter Quell. And the name of the victor is Willow Seahorn.
"We never watched this one," I say.
Nolan shakes his head. "No. I knew Willow didn't want us to. The same way we didn't want to relive our own Games. And since we're all on the same team, I didn't think it mattered much."
"Is the person who won in twenty-five in here?" I ask.
"I don't think so. Whoever it was must be dead by now, and Mica only sent me victors we might have to face." Nolan weighs Willow's tape in his hand. "Why? You think we ought to watch it?"
I look down at my lap, "I don't know, maybe we shouldn't." I feels weird. It seems like some major invasion of Willow's privacy. I don't know why it should, since the whole thing was public. But it does. I have to admit I'm also extremely curious. " We don't have to tell Willow we saw it."
"Okay," Nolan agrees. He puts in the tape and I curl up on the couch with my milk, which is really delicious with honey and spices, and lose myself in the Twentieth Hunger Games. After the anthem, they show President Snow looking younger but just as repellant. He reads the Treaty of Treason. The editors smash cut right into the reaping, where name after name after name is called.
By the time we get to District 9, there's a woman, not Mica, calling the names in 9, but she still begins with "Ladies first!" She called out the name of Willow. The camera finds her in the crowd, clinging to two other girls, perhaps her sister. They look just like her, with blonde hair and green eyes. Willow looks so much different, she was still so innocent and she still had hope in her eyes.
The chariot ride in which District 9 kids are dressed in awful grain outfits and the interviews flash by. There's little time to focus on anyone. But since Willow is going to be the victor, we get to see one full exchange between him and the interviewer, who isn't Caesar Flickerman.
"So, Willow, what do you think of the Capitol so far?" asks the interviewer.
Willow shrugs, "It's so much different than back home, I guess I like the beds the best. They are super comfortable."
The audience bursts out laughing and Willow gives them a half smile. "So, you're sixteen, tell me is there some one special back home?"
All I can think of was Caesar Flickerman asking me a similar question that had a secret meaning. He was asking me if I were to win would there be anyone back home because otherwise I would become a desirable. I wonder if they did that back during the twentieth Games. If Willow had to suffer the same fate until she was deemed not pretty anymore. Is that why she never talks about her family, did they get killed like my mother?
Now it's the morning the Games begin. We watch from the point of view of one of the tributes as she rises up through the tube from the Launch Room and into the arena. I can't help but give a slight gasp. Disbelief is reflected on the face of the players. Even Willow's eyebrows lift in pleasure, although they almost immediately knit themselves back into a scowl.
It's the most breathtaking place imaginable. The golden Cornucopia sits in the middle of a green meadow with patches of gorgeous flowers. The sky is azure blue with puffy white clouds. Bright songbirds flutter overhead. By the way some of the tributes are sniffing, it must smell fantastic. An aerial shot shows that the meadow stretches for miles. Far in the distance, in one direction, there seems to be a woods, in the other, a snowcapped mountain.
The beauty disorients many of the players, because when the gong sounds, most of them seem like they're trying to wake from a dream. Not Willow, though. She's at the Cornucopia armed with weapons and a backpack of choice supplies. He heads for the woods before most of the others have stepped off their plates.
Five tributes were killed in the bloodbath that first day. Others begin to die off and it becomes clear that almost everything in this pretty place the luscious fruit dangling from the bushes, the water in the crystalline streams, even the sent of the flowers when inhaled too directly is deadly poisonous. Only the rainwater and the food provided at the Cornucopia are safe to consume. There's also a large, well-stocked Career pack of 4 tributes scouring the mountain area for victims. Willow has her own troubles in the woods, where the fluffy golden squirrels turn out to be carnivorous and attack in packs, and the butterfly stings bring agony if not death. But she persists in moving forward, always keeping the distant mountain at her back.
Four days in, the picturesque mountain erupts in a volcano that wipes out two players, including one the of the Careers. With the mountain spewing liquid fire, and the meadow offering no means of concealment, the remaining seven tributes incuding Willow have no choice but to confine themselves to the woods.
Willow seems bent on continuing in the same direction, away from the now volcanic mountain, but a maze of tightly woven hedges forces her to circle back into the center of the woods, where she encounters the three Careers and pulls her sword out. They are much bigger and stronger, but Willow has remarkable speed and has killed two when the third one disarms her. That Career is about to slit her throat when a dart drops him to the ground. The male tribute from 9 steps out of the woods. "We'd live longer with two of us." He says.
"Guess you just proved that," says Willow, rubbing her neck. "Allies?" He nods. And there they are instantly drawn into one of those pacts you'd be hard pressed to break if you expect to go home and face your district.
Just like how me and Calptyus were, they do better together. Get more rest, work out a system to salvage more rainwater, fight as a team, and share the food from the dead tributes' packs. But Willow is still determined to keep moving on.
The two of them split up for a short moment and as Willow is collecting the water the sound her allies scream is heard. Willow runs for him. She arrives only in time to watch the last of a flock of candy pink birds, equipped with long, thin beaks, skewer him through the neck. She holds his hand while he dies, and all I can think of is Calytus and how I couldn't save her and of Monty, who I failed to save.
Later that day, another tribute is killed in comabt leaving just Willow and a girl from district 3 to fight for the crown. She's bigger than Willow and just as fast, and when the inevitable fight comes, it's bloody and awful and both have received what could very well be fatal wounds, when Willow is finally disarmed. She staggers through the beautiful woods, holding her intestines in, while the girl stumbles after her, carrying the ax that should deliver her deathblow. Willow makes a beeline to the birds that killed her fellow tribute, hoping they go after the other girl instead of her.
Just as she reaches the birds she seems to change her plans and turns around and heads back towards the mountain. When she reaches the base of the mountain she seems to see something that I can't quite see and collapses on the ground, the girl who was right behind her leaps for her but Willow falls to the ground just as she lunges for her. The girl lands into an invisible wall and seems to get electrified. The cannon sounds, her body is removed, and the trumpets blow to announce Willow's victory.
Nolan clicks off of the tape and we sit there in silence for a while.
Finally Nolan says, "That force field at the base of the mountain, it was like the one on the balcony of the Training Center. Willow found a way to turn it into a weapon."
"Not just against the other tributes, but the Capitol, too," I say. "You know they didn't expect that to happen. It wasn't meant to be part of the arena. They never planned on anyone using it as a weapon. It made them look stupid that she figured it out. I bet they had a good time trying to spin that one. Bet that's why we don't remember seeing it on television."
"You're right." says Willow from behind us. I whip around, afraid she's going to be angry over us watching her tape, but she just smirks and takes a swig from her bottle of wine.
I've spent all these weeks getting to know who my competitors are, without even thinking about who my teammates are. Now a new kind of confidence is lighting up inside of me, because I think I finally know who Willow is. And I'm beginning to know who am. And surely, between the three of us we can keep Katniss alive.