CHAPTER 6

THE PRICE OF LIFE

The Careers took turns walking up and down the river, and still nothing. An hour had gone by since they had been unexpectedly attacked. To everyone's surprise, the mutts had left no trail. After the Careers had gone to inspect other sides of the river so the bodies could be retrieved, the mutts had gone away too, almost as if they had dissolved. There was no doubt in Dove's mind that they were still there, watching, waiting, hoping for another fool to step into the water.

Had it been her in that position, the Careers, or any other tribute for that matter, would have found her laying under some tree, having a disorientating panic attack. The Careers were no scaredy children, though they maintained a safe distance with the river to ensure no more losses would occur too soon. Effective, so far, to protect themselves. A care not all were aware to have, or couldn't even phantom the idea of stopping to consider it.

The mutts claimed another victim by the end of the day. District Three's female tribute had appeared at the opposite side of the river, emerging from the woods as fast as a fish escaping capture. She had her head in her arms as she ran, stumbling and tumbling as many times as she got up.

In the stillness of anticipation, Dove heard her mother mumble, "Birds again."

She waited patiently, and, sure enough, an entire flock of birds dashed out of the woods in pursuit. They pecked away the girl's flesh and feasted on her uncovered arms. Blood ran down onto her face and clothes, making the screams all the more horrible. Three's girl was desperate to flee, desperate for life. She jumped into the river to drive the birds away, and her desperation went away along with her life.

The cannon then roared.

"Fifteen dead," Dove said, her eyes prisoners of the screen, "eight to go."

"Which pairs are left now?" Angel asked, glancing over to their mother. "Apart from Two."

"Only Seven."

In time to attend to the horrifying scene, District Three's male tribute ran out of the woods screaming a name; his partner's name. No reply would ever come his way, though. She lay dead, floating about in the water. That alarmed the boy, and, as smart as District Three tributes usually were, he chose not to approach. He knew perfectly well a Hovercraft would have been there before he reached the river. In fact, the Gamemakers could have even timed it so he would be able to see it. His district partner, a short-lived friend, dead and gone forever.

Dove hardly heard her mother's comment as the cameras panned to show the twist and turns of the helpless boy's face. "He's figured it out."

As if on cue, a knife fled in Three's direction. It missed.

"How? He looks so confused," said Angel, brow furrowed.

Their mother simple gave her half a shrug. "To process horror from the comfort of your home is one thing; there is different. You can't think clearly. No place to flee, no place to hide. Kill or be killed. And he's brushed past death twice in a minute—seen his district partner mutilated to bits and floating about as if she were nothing. Give him a minute."

No more than forty seconds had passed when Three called out to the Careers. He had a plan to get rid of the mutts, and the Careers needn't do anything more than team up with him. Thirst was a dangerous factor that played at its full potential on the Career pack, who agreed upon a sort of armistice with Three's boy until the following day was over. They were clearly on the brink of desperation. Mere minutes ago, they had talked about taking their chances. 'They can't kill us all', was a rather recurrent phrase muttered among them. Yet, they never went on with it. The crippling fear and the desire to live were still too high to give in.

"They're no fools," said their mother out of the blue, which got both Dove and Angel to look at her expectantly to continue. "District Three is no good as an ally. They're smart. Too smart. Be at a par with them and predict their moves or they'll outsmart their way to victory."

"Why don't they—"

There was an audible snap, like the break of a twig, small but loud. They all fell silent at that, their concentration trailing back to the television to witness a rarity like no other in the Games. Melo was the main focus of the cameras. However, his partners were those who marked the difference. He sat with a half-woven ivy net in his hands, Seven's boy idly watching him with curious eyes while Seven's girl stood in front of them, rambling on and on about some plan they had come up with to get rid of the Careers.

Seven's female tribute was betting on placing net traps around the Cornucopia, which Melo was in the process of creating. They knew the Careers enough. It wouldn't take long for them to go back for provisions to the Cornucopia, where each hour that passed more tributes, of the few left, felt the overpowering bravery to raid whatever they could with one quick run.

Panem's anthem played along the boom of a cannon, though it was not for any known tribute's death, but to announce the end of the second day. The alliance glanced up to the sky, watching the faces flash past with ease. Those kids, all dead. Wouldn't that be better than staying idly, waiting and hoping not to be next? They were three in Melo's alliance alone. Two would have to die if one of them were to claim victory. They were all as dead as those whose faces in the sky dimmed before going over to the next one.

"I thought they'd let my district partner live a little longer," Melo mumbled and carried on with his net weaving.

Seven's male tribute tried to be sympathetic, but all he let out was a pat to Melo's back and, "better dead than still in here."

Melo nodded with a chuckle. "Yeah, that might be true."

A surprise awarded Dove with the upmost confusion. District Five's male tribute had just appeared along the fallen. Had he been the cannon that played along with the anthem? When else could have his cannon have been fired? The first mutt attack? The second? Some editing from the Gamemakers, who didn't seem themselves that year at all?

"Sixteen dead," Dove mumbled, "seven to go."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back for Angel. Her older sister got up from her seat, making Dove fall onto the cushions as her support disappeared from her reach. Neither had much strength left. They had barely even moved for hours. In fact, had they eaten at all? Mags wasn't around to look after them, nor was Ron or the married couple, Theo and Rhett, so those thoughts had been buried deep under their ability to be concerned.

Angel nudged Dove's arm, pulling on it without much success. "Come, Dove. You've had no sleep for almost two days. You need to go to bed."

"Eight left. Can't sleep now," Dove replied simply, eyes wide open as if the minimum blinking would cause her brother's death.

"Exactly because there's eight left you should sleep," replied Angel.

Dove frowned at that. "What? No! I have to be here! We promised Melo we'd be here!"

"Dove," Angel's sweet tone came back to her voice, complementing her worried-sister demeanour as she crouched down in front of her little sister, "what happens when it gets to the final eight?"

"They interview the families." The phrase took a moment to dawn on Dove. "Oh…"

"Just a few hours of sleep, OK?" Angel promised. "The Gamemakers can't possibly start killing or making them kill each other so soon. They're only on the third day."

Quicker Games have happened, Dove held the thought and bit on her lip, nodding her remorse away while letting herself be guided to Angel's room.

Her sister wasn't short of promises to place on the empty stool of their hopes, though. "Mum will keep watching for now. We'll take over so she can sleep later. She will tell us if anything happens."

She will break down if anything happens when she's all alone. Again, Dove bit her lip and drifted off to sleep in the foreign comfort of her sister's bed.

The side of the bed where she lay lowered hours later, alarming Dove into awakening. She grasped onto the mattress as if she were to fall, her breaths quick and shallow despite no nightmares attacking her sleep. The darkness was of no help either.

Her mother's voice came through along with a tender hand caressing her cheek. "It's almost morning. The cameras will be here in a few hours."

Dove opened her eyes, but she could hardly make out her mother's silhouette, still and calm and as odd as that year's Games had been so far. "Any deaths?"

She hoped for not one reply, as it would be usual, but, regardless, she got one. "Ten's girl."

"Mutts?" Dove asked.

Her mother shook her head. "Likely bled out after that cut the Careers gave her the other day."

Dove got up without a further question, nor any more weight straining her heart. The little of the sympathy she had left expressed quite the reproach. Shouldn't she care? A girl had died. The whole family would be crying for their loss somewhere in District Ten. But what did it matter? So would be someone in any district. If not for the dead, for those alive. There were seven left. Only mere seven children of which six would die before the week's end two days away. Perhaps those who had seen their loved ones die the first day were the truly blessed. They hadn't had time to have any baseless hope. No promises to break. Enough tears had been shed, for them it was only a matter of time until their children would be brought back, cleaned up and presented in a wooden box.

The morning had fell silent in the beginning of dawn. Dove watched it unfold, slowly but surely falling apart like a sand castle. Her hands couldn't keep it together, not even her own self. She simply panted and rocked the hours away, expecting for a change that would never came; either a miracle that kept it all in place or a strong wave that would quickly tear it apart.

Fall. Fall already, She begged to no avail.

"Four, how about some water?" said Seven's boy, a hand on Melo's shoulder as he smiled and a smile on his face."I'm thirsty."

"Sure." Melo shrugged and got up, leaving his decently woven net behind.

Of all the ways it could have ended, the infinity of outcomes in which she could have seen her brother die, and it had to be mutts. She waited for them to pack up and go to the river. They, however, started drilling a tree nearby for no good reason.

"Fancy stuff you've got back at District Seven, don't you?" said Melo, twirling around a sort of metallic plug from his pocket. "How come you ever go thirsty with this?"

"That's because trees don't usually have water, brainless," joked Seven's boy.

Melo simply chuckled and shrug the insult off. "They sure do here."

The girl from Seven marched over to them, leaning on a nearby tree as both continued their intense tree-drilling. "That's because it's the Arena, Four. Bet you whatever 'fancy' stuff you have at that sweet Victors' home of yours that we only got this because all the other water resources are poisoned. It happened eight—ten years ago?"

"Nine," corrected the boy. "Quick Games too."

Melo weighted the plug in his hands, then glanced over at his allies, who had fallen silent at the lack of lively subjects possible to converse. "What did you say this was called?"

"Spile." Seven's boy stopped drilling to turn over to Melo, who handed out the spile without bickering."Don't have that in Four, do you?"

"Why in the hell would I need that?" Melo chuckled, astounding Dove with his capability of cockiness in the heart of danger. "I'm from Four. We've got the sea, not a bunch of trees with sap. That thing is basically useless unless it can drain the salty taste from our water. I tell you, my sisters would love—"

Seven's eyes twinkled in curiosity at the mention. "Your sisters…?"

"It's just… our bread is very salty." Melo gave his allies half a shrug and went back to his net, his only memory of home, a memory of Dove, the best net weaver he knew—apart from Mags.

With one last emphasised look from Seven's boy to Melo, the camera snapped and changed the focus over to the Careers along with their Three temporary recruit. A brand new plan was being laid out in front of their eyes, and they could clearly not understand a word of what it was being said. District Three's male tribute was presenting a suicidal plan that consisted on electrocuting the river, therefore the Mutts as well. What he clearly did not mention was that anyone in the vicinity would get electrocuted too.

Dove nodded to herself. "District Three is a dangerous ally."

There was a knock on the front door. Odd. The victors never knocked, they simply came into the houses as they pleased. None had locks either way. Then, another knock. To Dove's surprise, she didn't have to be the one to get up. Her mother was already half way to the door when she had just got up from the sofa.

Her mother had yet to open the door when she sighed and announced, "The cameras are here."

The order of interviews was strange to say the least. At least five people took part in the camera crew, and only one person, a woman with pale blue skin, took care of interviewing. Dove was the first to be led away. She was positioned with her back against the marvellous decorations—as the Capitol crew called them—in her home's hallway and asked questions that had no issue being asked to someone who's sibling was a step away from death in a televised death row.

They started decently with "do you think your brother will outshine the tributes from Seven?", then it all went down hell. Dove drew the line at "How is living so close to one of the handsomest young lads in Panem, Finnick Odair? Have you fallen madly in love with him?". She tried to blabber an answer only to cry her way out of the interview. She got away scot-free, slipping past Angel, the next in the row of madness, and laying plainly on the sofa, so still and calm that anybody would think she was dead.

Had ten minutes passed, her mother exchanged places with Angel, who came back stifling a laugh. "What happened in your interview? They were crying when I got there—the whole crew."

"Have you fallen madly in love with Finnick Odair?" Dove replied, mocking the Capitol accent just loud enough for her sister to hear. "Bet they didn't ask you that, huh? Were they too occupied asking how you thought things would play out? Or what you would do if you were in his situation? Maybe even what Three is actually planning?"

"Something along that line." Angel nodded, which tore Dove's blunt attitude apart with one swift hit. "But what worries me is all that talk about you liking Finnick."

Dove buried her head further into the cushion, wanting and needing to disappear into it like the mutts had in the water. "What does it matter? It's not true."

Their mother came back after saying goodbye to the crew, who mentioned Mags among their blabbering nonsense—the next person to be interviewed, most likely. "As long as the Capitol believes it, it doesn't matter what is true and what not."

It took everything in Dove not to snap back at her mother. She was tired. Tired of the Games and the Capitol, the plans and delays. If Melo had to die, she wanted it to happen already. She wanted to drift back into her bed, not care about a single person, and cry her days away until his corpse came back home in the mandatory wooden box. His death would be the last strand. Her push to cry out, "I volunteer!" the following year.

"That doesn't mean you can't make twist whatever they believe into what you want them to believe," added her mother as an after-thought.

Her mother's words wasn't something Dove could concentrate on for long. The Hunger Games were still carrying on, intensely dragged out to the point of desperation by a clearly new and clumsy Head Gamemaker. Ron and Mags were an additional worry. They increased their visits, stayed for longer than usual, and even cooked so nobody would come across the minimum amount of danger, like the kitchen catching on fire by one of her mother's disaster-cooking moments, or her own distracted accident cutting up vegetables with a kitchen knife. Her hand was now bandaged, it was no big deal despite Angel, the only sane person remaining in their family, wanted her to believe.

Ron guided Librae well away from the kitchen as Mags had started to cook supper. He told her to take a seat on the sofa, and she did. An event of its own kind. Dove would have expected her mother to bicker, but the person she had come to meet since the Games had started was dissipating into the nothingness of memory. Soon enough, her mother would come to her own special senses, or the lack of thereof. She wasn't drunk or with a bottle in hand, Dove had to remind herself, an undoubtedly upgrade from the mother she had a month ago.

"Dove…" Angel began.

"If you're going to say that he'll be fine, I don't want to hear it." The pillow under her head welcomed her face back with gratitude. Perhaps, just like her mother had changed only to be pulled back into place, she had done so too. "You should go help Mags prepare supper. I'll yell if something happens."

Angel doubted, stretching out her hand only to draw it back to her side. "Alright, but you know where I am if you need me, OK?"

"Sure." Dove sighed and buried herself further into the cushions, listening to her sister's footsteps moving further. "Promises, promises, and promises… What good are they for?"

"My older sister would kill me if she saw me right now," Melo chuckled, the trident dancing between his fingers as she sat idly with the boy from Seven in front of a small fire that Seven's girl tried to intensify. "She's the kind to overprotect, you know?"

"Really?" Seven's boy raised his eyebrows in amusement while a smile pricked the corner of his lips. "What about your younger sister?"

"She's cute," Melo grinned, "if you consider a tiny anxious mess cute."

Seven rubbed Melo's back and sniggered."It's a good thing they stayed behind, huh?"

Melo shook his head immediately with a breathy laugh. "Actually, I think they would disagree, specially my younger sister… They would rather be here with me. It's just a matter of time regardless."

His apparent friend was taken back at that. "They'll volunteer?"

With a contradictory smile far different from the tears that were threatening to leave his eyes, Melo whispered, "No."

"You two," called Seven's girl, dumping a handful of dried leaves onto the flames, "stop flirting and help me out. We need to have the nets perfectly laid out before the Careers get here."

Melo got up without much complaint. "And the fun's over."

Seven's boy threw an arm around his shoulders and nodded."From now on it's only hell."

The living room drowned in silence for a minute, letting the information dawn on them slowly. One glance was all they needed to understand. The final battle was minutes away. Whether they lost Melo forever or not would be decided before the night was over.

Dove sat up, ready for the worst. "Let it begin."