CHAPTER 5

TAG, YOU'RE IT

An uneventful sleep had attacked Dove after her tears had dried up along with her will to be awake. There were no deaths or suffering in her dreams, in fact, she could hardly tell if she had dreamed at all. Her mind was hazy by the time she woke up. Angel sat beside her, gently nudging her. Their eyes locked, and the brief smile that had overtaken her sister's face fell.

"The Games start in no time. Thought you would want to know," said Angel.

Dove kept looking absentmindedly at her sister, having only just woken up was making it difficult to process certain things. She nodded and thanked her, but Angel wouldn't dare to leave her alone on such a day. There was no telling if it was for Dove's sake or her own. Tears were pricking her sister's eyes, accumulating like a rainstorm about to cloudburst.

Their mother was burning something in the kitchen, the smell travelled as far as to her room, and yet Angel didn't go running down the stairs to make sure everything was fine, as she would normally do. Her sister was still there because of her. Because she had more danger of breaking down than a burning pan.

"Stop," Dove mumbled, which made Angel frown in confusion. "Don't look at me like I'm wounded, I'm fine."

"Dove, you're not fine, and that's OK—"

"No, no, it's not." Dove snapped back. "I'm not eight years old anymore, Angel. I'm not some weeping mess, praying to never be called during the Reaping, alright? I'm young, not naive. You think you can protect me forever? Next year's Reaping will be your last."

"I know, but when I go to the Games—"

"When I go, when Melo goes… have you ever thought I could go before you?" Dove slithered out of the covers, needing to pace around not to yell at her sister. She couldn't do that. That argument was pointless from the start, and she knew it. Had Angel thought she could volunteer for her? Of course not, because nobody would. "I just… I'm your younger sister, alright, I get it, I'm younger and more inexperienced and simply worse at everything, but I want to protect you too."

"Dove, please…" Angel took a step closer, a hand stretched out to grab Dove's, but her little sister flinched away before she could get anywhere near. "Dove, your breathing. You have to calm down."

The pace at which Dove's heart beat matched her breaths, quick, shallow, and suffocating. Her mouth was agape, trying to get as much air to her lungs as possible. It didn't help. Nothing did. She was drowning with no water, being buried under her own thoughts and desires, burning on the feelings that had been for so long kept away and she could no longer control. They were overflowing, but not in the way one would expect. No tears were on her eyes, not yet. She was lashing out. It was a pity that it was directed at the wrong person.

"Stop it!" Dove braided pieces of her hair with quick motions, following the rhythm of her steps as she did so. "You think I didn't hear you cry last night? That I can't see the tears you failed to wipe off still on your face? I'm not dumb, I know I can't hold a candle to you. That much has been proven time after time for my entire life, but let me try. Just trust me a little! BELIEVE IN ME EVEN IF IT'S JUST FOR A MINUTE!" The first tears fled her eyes, drowning not only her mind and face in the worries of the past, but also her voice in a crowd of chokes and sobs. "Please… believe in me."

Angel hugged her sister, forcing her to stay within her hold regardless of the squirming and pushing to be fred. "I'm sorry, Dove. I'm so sorry."

That was the point of no return to Dove. Her light crying spiralled down to a symphony of sobs and choking accusations, pointless squirming, and light punches to her sister's arms. She kept that chorus for ten minutes, having its ups and downs. With time, she gave up breaking free from her sister's arms, and focused on her breathing. She wanted to run, hide if necessary. But none of that was possible. She had to stay and carry the promise everyone in her family had made; they would watch every second of the Hunger Games.

"Don't apologise. I don't want that," she said, calmer. "I want to hear about your problems. Help you through them as much as I can. There has to be something I can do to help you and mum. Please, I—I'll learn how to cook, I'll train with weapons until my hands bleed… I'll do anything for you."

The arms that had once held her captive brushed past her arms, setting her free. Dove didn't dare to move. She stayed in her place, dreading the way her insides were twisting, urging her to escape. How could she tell her sister to let her help and then run off? What kind of impression would that leave? Wouldn't that prove the fact that she was just a kid? That she needed to be taken care after and no responsibilities could be left upon.

"Let's go have some breakfast first," Angel replied and held out her hand for Dove to take. "Before Mum burns the kitchen down, anyway."

The kitchen was a mess in many ways, all caused by their mother in less than half an hour, one of her most incredible abilities. Angel forced their mother to the sofa, where the television was already on. Caesar Flickerman was presenting that year's Hunger Games one hour before they were due to start, reminding everyone of the tributes and their stories. Meanwhile, Dove opened the couple of windows in the kitchen and turned on the extractor hood. She stood in the middle of the corridor with the kitchen door's closed, checking every few seconds for a moment when it would be safe to go inside without chocking on the thick cloud of smoke.

What any other day would have made them tease their mother, who would show no emotions at it in the slightest, that particular day only brought more discomfort. They had to clean up after the mess and the smoke, and they couldn't really make any jokes that wouldn't sound accusing to their mother. Melo was usually the one to make the jokes too. He knew where the bar between teasing and insulting laid, and so once he had set it, nobody dared to cross it.

Breakfast passed quickly. None wanted to still be eating by the time the Hunger Games would start. The thought alone of eating while kids were dying, likely a member of their family too, was already making them wobble, their stomachs threatening to spit the food right out. Breakfast could have been a mistake.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-sixth Hunger Games begin!"

Claudius Templesmith's voice roared with excitement, initiating the sixty-second countdown until the Bloodbath. The cameras immediately cut to the Arena, doing all kind of close-ups to the twenty-four tributes, the Cornucopia, and their surroundings. Somewhere in the Cornucopia rested a trident, shining brightly against the sunlight, an enticing and glimmering death trap that hadn't been prepared for nobody before, not even Finnick, who had achieved to get his own through Sponsors.

"Tropical Arena." Their mother's voice broke the silence, snapping Dove's and Angel's attention from their own worries. "No visible dangers. The mutations must be in the needed places. Near water, probably."

Angel nodded, impressed at the sudden chatty attitude her mother had taken. "The mutts will appear either threats or harmless."

Dove took the chance to voice her own thoughts too. "I'd say both. Like that they can't let their guards down."

The little world that they had created, in which figuring out the Arena's secret had become the only important matter, got broken down with the gong's echo. The Sixty-sixth Hunger Games had started, and it was up to the tributes to choose whether to flee or fight. A vast majority chose to fight, in which Melo was amongst.

They all ran at their maximum speed towards the Cornucopia, some meeting in the way, others battling for weapons on the spot. Melo dashed past quite a few people to the trident, which was around the centre of the commotion. He grabbed it the best he could and ran off, only stopping to pick up a bright-yellow bag on his way to the forest.

"He's not going with the Career group?" Angel wondered out loud, intertwining her hands over her mouth while sneaking glances at her mother.

The question did not surprise Dove at all. She had also thought their brother would join Districts One and Two. However, the last few seconds on the pedestal had given her doubts. It was clear Melo had been searching for a way out before he even made it halfway to the Cornucopia. He hadn't got cold feet or doubted he could survive the Bloodbath, he had simply chosen the safest option; no alliance with the deadliest and less caring kids of them all in the Arena.

Their mother's eyes flared as she stared at the television. "Muscida and Finnick must have prepared him for all kinds of situations. A trident wouldn't be simply laying around unless he has shown what he can do to the Gamemakers. The Careers are foolish, but not dumb. They must have noticed. It would only be a matter of time before they killed him."

Dove nodded. "Then it would be four against one. No matter how deadly or skilled, it's a great disadvantage."

At its due time, the few tributes alive from the Bloodbath, the Careers, left the Cornucopia. Before the cameras proceeded to follow them, they made the last close-ups to the dead. One. Two. Three… Eight dead on the first few hours, each confirmed by the cannons' booming.

"Where's the girl from our District?" Dove asked, seeing as she wasn't among the dead.

"With the Careers, I think," replied Angel. "They're probably using her to get to Melo. She's as good as dead once they find out it's useless."

It was true, of course, but that didn't mean her sister's words didn't hurt Dove. "Finnick and Muscida are both helping Melo, but you don't think they'll leave her to her luck… Right?"

Her mother, the only person's opinion that truly counted at that moment, shook her head lightly. "She won't need any help with the Careers. Until they choose to kill her, she'll be fine."

The cameras cut from tribute to tribute, doing brief check-ups to make sure everyone kept track o fwho had survived and who hadn't. Both from District Three, along with Seven, Eight, and Ten had both tributes alive, though hardly half were together with their partners. Districts Five and Nine had one of their tributes still alive, alone somewhere far deep into the woods. That meant Districts Six, Eleven, and Twelve had lost both of their tributes only on the first hour.

There was a sharp sound behind Nine's tribute, and the camera changed immediately to Melo. That was odd. Usually if there was going to be any fighting, the Gamemakers would make sure to show it from start to finish. Dove wouldn't complain, though. She hadn't thought they would pan to her brother so late, though it made sense as she saw him. Melo wasn't doing anything interesting, simply looking around for water. At the very least he appeared to be unharmed.

As soon as the Career pack got a move on, the spotlight was taken away from him. The group of five travelled through the slope, some with more ease than others. Those from Two were at the front, guiding the rest despite the One's tributes letting their pride be affected for such a meaningless thing.

Two cannons boomed, one right after the other. There had hardly been a second between both. But what were the chances that two tributes would die at the same time? In fact, what were the odds that the Gamemakers wouldn't record two tributes' deaths? It was immensely out of character for them. Unless, of course, the deaths had been so unexpected and quick that not even the Gamemakers themselves had seen it coming.

Dove turned to her mother, the bearer of all knowledge at that moment. "Who do you think died?"

"The cannons were one right after another. Whoever the poor kids were, they were together," replied her mother. "I'd say either Three, Seven, Eight, or Ten."

Angel leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs. "Isn't it weird how they didn't show their deaths? If two alliances had met and fought, that would get the cameras on them instantly, but they were on the Careers all the time."

"I don't think they were killed by other tributes. The deaths were too quick, and directly followed by one another. It had to be Mutts," replied their mother. "Since their deaths would have been too short and uneventful, they chose to make us have this conversation, make us figure out just what is out there, lurking somewhere in the Arena. They want us to bet on who will be next, and just what creature it might be. The Capitol will probably be in a rage for a couple of minutes before they start placing bets on who's still alive. It might seem impossible, but that does benefit the tributes other than the Careers. Because we know that the Careers are alive, we see them every minute. But what about the rest? Where are the two from Three? And are Eight and Ten still alive? What about those who went by themselves?"

The information registered all too easily in Dove's mind. She couldn't deny that she had a hunch before her mother had put it into words, though it still drove her mad. Of course her brother's Games had to be the same year the Head Gamemaker retired and got replaced for a new and younger one. One that clearly had the desired to make a difference, stand out among his predecessors. So desperate to be noticed that he would make eleven families wonder if their family members were still alive until midnight came and their faces got shown in the sky, if they kept on doing that at all.

Dove let out a sigh and glanced over to her mother, who kept herself together quite nicely despite the fact that they could very well be wrong. Melo could have died in a run-in with some other tribute, or even a mutt that was already attacking someone else. It didn't seem like her mother doubted herself though. However, she didn't even appear to be the same person at all. Where had the Librae Ogilvy from the past four years gone to? The mother who was so constantly distracted by nightmares that wouldn't notice her running off to the town for hours when Angel and Melo were training with Muscida only a couple of years back?

The most she had heard from her mother in the last year was after Finnick's Games, and it hadn't been all too eventful. The whole family was at the living room, watching the Games as the television would not allow them to change the channel, nor turn it off. Then, when Finnick's name was called as the Victor, she simply huffed and said, "They should have realises he was the one they had to kill earlier. These Careers are getting dumber with each year that goes by".

"Basically no one knows who's alive until midnight," Dove said, more to herself than to her family, who she knew were well aware of that fact.

"Yeah, but they all know there are two less to kill," Angel pointed out nonchalantly. "As the Careers always say; ten dead, thirteen to go."

There was another cannon, and by the look of their mother's face, she could not form a single theory that could exclude Melo of the list of suspected deaths. Dove wanted to yell to the television, but she knew that wouldn't change a thing. The Gamemakers wouldn't be able to hear her, and even if they did, a little girl's opinion form the districts would be as insignificant as the beat of a butterfly's beat.

"Eleven dead, twelve to go," Dove mumbled through clenched teeth.

Hours passed like days until the Arena's midnight. It had been around an hour since the Careers had set camp nearby the Cornucopia. Their day of hunting down tributes had gone horribly. They hadn't found one person. If their mother's guess was correct, Mutts would be the principal cause of death those Hunger Games, and who knew how that could affect the fickle Capitol crowd? The tribute from District One had just taken over the second watch when the anthem played, showing the fallen.

Dove let out an audible sigh when the first face to be shown was District Five's female tribute. Guilt crept up in her stomach a second after. The only relaxation she could have was that she hadn't been the only one. Angel leaned over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist as they continued to watch, silent, the rest of dead children being announced for that night. The three unannounced deaths came to be announced soon enough; both from Eight and the girl from Nine.

"How on Panem did they die so quickly? None looked weak," Angel said, pulling Dove closer to her.

"We'll have to wait until the Careers figure it out by themselves." Dove beat her mother to announced the news, which her mother almost looked proud about.

Her mother nodded. "The cameras show no signs of wanting to leave them anytime soon."

In the brief seconds they had allowed themselves to get distracted, the Careers left their camp to move out again. They already knew who was left, and their most fierce competitors had already been reduced to a couple. No harm would come if they searched for victims. They were right. After many hours of paused travel, they encountered both from Ten, who had been found out in the middle of their flight. The girl escaped with a nasty cut on her arm. Nevertheless, the boy wasn't as lucky.

"Twelve dead, eleven to go," Dove mumbled.

The boy's cannon echoed all throughout the Arena, but the Careers seemed not to have any interest for the fleeing victim, which confused Angel briefly. "Why are they not going after the girl?"

"They're probably thinking she'll die on her own with that cut," replied their mother. "There's no point in going after her. It will only make them tired and thirsty. They haven't found a source of water yet, so they can't risk it. They aren't as dumb as I initially thought."

"Do you think they're still looking for Melo?" Dove took advantage of the silence to ask.

"I would be." There would be no simpler way to put it, most likely. A Victor would surely know a tribute's thoughts better than average people. Still, that didn't mean their mother wouldn't try to make them understand as well. "He's a great threat, they can't just let him be. But they can't go blatantly looking for him until they have water. If Melo isn't dehydrated, they'll be at a great disadvantage. It doesn't matter how many they are. For now, he's good. Let's just hope he has or will find water before them."

Contrary to their hopes, the Careers found a river a couple of hours before dawn. However, it was hard for Dove to feel utter dread for them. Great part of her mind kept on reminding her that they were kids too, kids that only wanted to go back to their families. And, besides, the river was way too disclosed not to be a trap. There were no trees, rocks, or caves within a twenty metres distance from it.

No doubt the Careers were overjoyed with their discovery. They ran to the river, dived into it, and drunk and cleaned themselves as much as they could. The Gamemakers didn't grant them much leisure time, since a scream resonated in everyone's ears only a minuet after. The girl from One was being attacked by a Mutt. In the dark of night, one couldn't really tell what exactly the creature was, nor did it matter. It had taken less than five seconds to kill the poor girl. There they had it; Eight and Nine tributes' murderer.

The oddest of sights happened the moment the girl's cannon echoed in the Arena along with the alliance's screams. Somehow, the Mutt had split into two. That left Dove starstruck enough to not blink for the remainder of the attack. The four remaining Careers in the alliance tried to get out of the river, but the boy from Two and their district's girl had fallen behind. They struggled to move through the water, their feet probably sinking on the mud, like concrete on quicksand. The two Mutts were gaining on them, barely on the brink to attack again. And when it seemed like the both of them would die, the boy from Two pushed their district's female tribute towards the Mutts, letting them lash away as he managed to run away.

Their female tribute took considerably longer to die than One's tribute, and yet, without a word or sound, when her cannon roared, one of the Mutts multiplied. That horrified not only Dove and Angel, but their mother as well. What kind of games were the Gamemakers playing? In what world could that ever be acceptable? For every lost life to the Mutts, another would form? Did that mean there were others along the river? That each and every dead tribute would contribute on another's death?

Perhaps it had to do with how used Victors were to such horrible sights, but their mother pulled herself together way before either Dove or Angel did. "They can't get water without someone dying, and they can't sacrifice anyone just yet with such a great disadvantage in number. What will you do now, kids?"