"I don't think it's worth it."
Embelia looks up from the bandage she's wrapping around her calf. Korren is standing up on their platform, stringing a tarp up onto some branches to keep the rain off them for the night. He's not looking at her as he speaks, and she can't see his upturned face, but she can imagine he's frowning.
"The feast?" She asks, looking down again to make sure she's not smearing aloe vera all over the place, keeping it tightly wrapped in the bandage against her gashes. She winces softly as she pulls the bandage tighter again, gritting her teeth and powering through.
"Yeah. It's a death mission and I don't think the risk is worth the reward. What would it be, a blowgun?"
"Well, I guess so." Korren still isn't looking at her, so Embelia keeps on not looking at him. "I disagree. My poison plan is solid, and if we can get the tools–"
"Em," he interrupts her, finally making her look up. She meets his eyes with a quiet fury at being cut off, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Both Four and Venus will probably be there, you know we can't take them. It's not safe."
"There's not an inch of this arena that's safe," Embelia counters, voice a bit sharper than she'd like it to be. She doesn't correct her tone as she continues. "I want to go. I think it's the right decision."
"Well, I think it's a stupid decision. Nowhere is safe, sure, but the feast is more dangerous than anywhere else. We don't desperately need it, why put ourselves in harm's way?"
"We're not going to get out of here by shying away from confrontation," she says, tying off the bandages and moving to tuck the roll away. "I want whatever they have for us. I'm going, with or without you."
"You'd go alone?" Korren says, sitting down just as rain starts to patter against the tarp. He leans toward her, face concerned rather than mad. "Embelia, is it really that important to you?"
"Yes," she says stubbornly. "You can stay behind and cower, but I'm not."
"You're injured."
"So?"
"So," he says, exasperated. "You're vulnerable. More than before. I can't just let you wander off on your own."
Embelia searches his gaze. He means well, she knows. There's no malice, no intent to stifle her, he only worries. And that's just fine, but he's not going to stop her either.
"Then come with me," she says. "I'm going. The only decision to make is yours, because my mind is made up."
To Embelia, the path couldn't be clearer. She's been walking it without Korren for a week, he can join her or stay behind, but she's not changing her footwork.
Korren's jaw ticks, a slow exhale whistling between the gaps in his teeth. "Well, I can't let you wander up to Venus with your leg like that," he mumbles. "I… I'll come. But know I don't approve."
Embelia scoffs softly, but she's too tired to really be offended. She shifts to lay down, gingerly adjusting her leg to be comfortable. "You don't need to," she says. "Just be ready to be proved wrong."
Embelia and Korren crouch low in the bushes at the edge of the cornucopia clearing as noon draws near the next day.
The walk from their makeshift base hadn't been an easy task for Embelia, the pain in her leg growing more with each step. Korren had tried to make her turn back about a dozen times, using her leg as an excuse, but Embelia was resolute. She would be at that feast– who knew, maybe there was something in there to fix her leg instead of a blowgun? It would certainly throw a wrench in her plans, but it'd at least help the final stretch of the games be less painful for her.
Their gifts haven't been presented yet, and the cornucopia is still dotted with bins of unused bits of supply. It doesn't look as though anyone's been living around here for some time. With no food in the crates and room enough in a pack to carry medical supplies, what use was it to stick around?
Embelia can imagine others are posted in trees just like they are, all planning their own missions. She looks to Korren. "I can't go in," she whispers.
Korren's head whips around to face her, eyes wide and eyebrows shooting up his forehead. Then he glances down at her leg, the bandages making the leg of her pants bulge a bit. "Em," he whispers, pleading. "Let's just turn back. We're gonna get ourselves killed."
"No," she says, looking back at the cornucopia. "I have a new plan. As soon as they bring out the stuff, you go in with the knife. You go in, get out, and we go. I'll watch your back from here with the spear."
"That's insane," Korren hisses. "That would only work if there was no one else out there!"
"Shh!" Embelia admonishes, putting her finger to her lips. Korren huffs, but seems to acknowledge he had grown too loud. "You got a better plan?"
"Leaving?"
"Other than that."
"Then, no," he says. "But it's too dangerous, Em. You can't throw that thing far enough to protect me, not from here."
"Then I'll move," she whispers, craning her neck in hopes of spotting anyone else waiting in the trees. She turns to him then, gently touching his arm. "I'll protect you, Korren. It's the least I owe you."
Korren softens with her words, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. "I've barely done anything for you," he says with a weary smile.
"Just the thought of finding you kept me moving," she tells him, an admission she probably wouldn't have made so readily if he were pleased with her plan. Maybe it's manipulative. But more than that, it's the truth. "That's enough."
Korren kisses his teeth, looking away and shaking his head with a small smile. "You're trickier than I thought you were, you know."
"I don't know what you mean," she says.
The platforms at the cornucopia appear and rise without much fanfare. On the far right of the row of platforms is a small backpack labelled 11 in bright bold letters, small enough to be carried in just one hand. Certainly not large enough to hold any traditional blowgun. Embelia shifts, unwilling to give up anyway. Who knows how the Capitol interpreted their wish?
"Go," she whispers to Korren as soon as the platforms appear, before they've even finished their ascension. "Go, now!"
Korren doesn't argue with her this time, standing and climbing out from the bush. His long legs begin their sprint to the centre, knife clutched tight in his hand as he pumps his arms in a beeline to their pack. Embelia stands too, stepping out from their hiding place with her spear in hand, poised to throw. When Korren is halfway there, another figure emerges from an adjacent bit of jungle, small and weedy and certainly not a career. She's sprinting just as hard as Korren, quick with her small stature.
Embelia ventures out a few steps, ready to throw until she grows too close to Korren. She curses softly to herself, knowing she hasn't the skill to be certain she'll hit the girl and not Korren, and it's then that a familiar shout sounds from the jungle. She'd recognise that rage anywhere, the strangled cry of frustration of Venus. She whips her head toward it, but cannot see her. She hears another cry, this time a male voice. Someone in there is fighting her, holding her off. With any luck, it's Four. With any luck, it'll take them long enough that Korren can get in and out without genuine interference. She looks back to see the girl from Ten gain on Korren just as he grabs hold of the pack and slings the strap onto his wrist.
He turns around, facing the girl who meets him with a raised hand. He moves slow, and steps back as she hesitates to reach for her own bag.
What the hell is he doing?
She almost can't hear his words for their hushed tones, but she catches enough.
"We don't have to do this," he tells the girl. "I'll go, we can both go, we don't have to hurt each other."
Embelia steps forward a few paces, frowning.
"How can I trust you?!" The girl yells, far louder, skittish like a wild animal. Korren inches around her, one hand raised to placate her while the other holds the knife low, never raising it to her.
"Just– just– I don't wanna kill you. It's okay. You need that, we both need this, I just need to go, my friend–"
"Motherfucker!" screeches Venus from the forest.
Embelia stumbles forward a few steps. "Korren, come on!" She cries with all her might.
The combined yells of Venus and Embelia make the girl jump, make her whip round before rushing toward Korren with her own little knife.
"No, no!" Korren cries, but as she reaches him he thrusts the knife forward somewhere in her ribcage. The girl gasps and falls forward. Korren catches her with his free arm, cradling her as though she'd only tripped on a rock, like his knife isn't twisting in her kidney. He whispers to her then, something so quiet Embelia can't strain to hear. Her gaze whips between Korren and the forest, panicked.
Korren lowers the girl to the ground as she spits blood onto him, pulling the knife from her gut with a visible wince and trembling hands. He looks up and meets Embelia's eyes, and his are wild and wet.
Embelia beckons for him, and he stumbles a few seconds before running toward her.
"I killed her," he says as he helps her back to the treeline, hurrying to get them out of sight. One cannon sounds, then another.
"So?" pants Embelia as they weave between trees as quickly as they can manage, ignoring the sharp jabs of pain in her calf.
Korren looks over at her, mouth agape before he shuts it, teeth clacking with how rapidly it snaps closed. He doesn't say anything else, simply grabs her hand and guides her through the jungle back to where they'd come from.
Once back at their tree, Korren hands the pack to Embelia, moving to lean against the massive trunk and dragging a hand over his face. Embelia takes the pack, eagerly sitting down and unzipping it to find three containers. In one is needle and thread, in another what looks to be a shot of some kind, maybe something to ease her pain.
But what really catches her interest is the sleek black box nestled under the two. She pulls it out and pulls off the top, revealing a small triangular knife, topped with a small note.
'Smaller and easier than a blowgun. Use it wisely. - S.'
Embelia frowns, picking up the knife and turning it over in her hands, wondering how exactly she's meant to get poison onto this. She supposes it'll probably function the same as any poison tipped dart, just bigger. She'll get far less use out of it, only one instead of several darts. Maybe that's more entertaining for the Capitol. "It's from Seeder–"
"How many tributes have you killed?"
Embelia looks up at Korren, brows pulling together as she frowns. "Four," she tells him, not proudly, or ashamedly, just factual. Like she's completely separated herself from the fact she's taken four young lives.
Korren inhales sharply, like he hadn't already known. He looks away from her, rubbing his thumb anxiously across the palm of his hand. "I hadn't killed anyone until her."
"I know," she says. "But you had to. She ran at you with a knife."
"She was scared," he rasps. "I was almost out of there without harming her, but she was frightened, and I…"
"Well, look at it this way," she says. "She was, what, fifteen? Compared to what was left, she was never going to make it out. She was going to die anyway. At least before she went someone treated her kindly. Better you than Venus."
"That's horrible, Embelia."
"It's the truth," she said. "It is horrible, but it's the only way to get out of here. I'm sorry."
"Well I don't want to do it that way," he says stubbornly. "Why do we have to do it their way?"
"It's the only way," she repeats, standing up and moving to get the poison from her bag. "You need to understand that and make your peace with it or neither of us are getting out of here."
She glances at him when he doesn't respond, but he's still not looking at her, his jaw clenched and eyes hard. She looks away when he rapidly wipes at them, stopping tears before they shed. A thought appears in her head for the briefest moment, a traitorous, unhelpful part of her suggesting that it might be time that the two of them split up, ride out the rest of the games apart. There's only four people left now, after all.
But she squashes it.
She only just found him again. She'd rather finish these games with him hating her than leave him alone to the hands of Venus and Four. She spent a week not knowing his fate, she can't bear to do it again.
(Even if an even deeper, even more traitorous voice inside her tells her his hesitation and desperation to cling to the moral law of the world outside is holding her back. That's an even worse thought, and she stops it before it can even fully form.)
She swallows, poking at the edge of the blade and pricking her thumb with the sharpness. "We'll coat this with the poison," she says, watching blood bead on her finger. "We'll only get one shot, so we better make it count."
Korren only grunts in response.
Korren doesn't argue with Embelia's plan anymore. When she tells him how she wants to draw Four in and kill him, he only nods in response. He grows reticent, contemplative, but won't argue anymore. Embelia wants to grab him, shake him, make him him again, but she hasn't got the time. She knows they'd never be so lucky as to have gotten rid of Four in the feast, and hearing him paddling somewhere down the river just confirms that.
It had been simple enough to coat the knife with the poison, to stand by the bank and make herself look obvious. Her plan isn't flawless, full of holes, too many variables. She can't help but feel that it might be closer to flawless if Korren had participated.
She's thankful when she spots Four before he does her, but thankfulness doesn't make her any faster than him. He's noticed her, nocked and drawn an arrow before she can even duck away. It whizzes past her head when she steps back, stumbling away from the river bank. She heads the splash of his paddle in the water as he approaches, jumping from the raft and reaching for another arrow.
Embelia grips the knife, letting out a shout as she flings it at him. It buries itself in his shoulder and he grunts, letting the arrow fly.
It strikes its mark right through Embelia's arm, pinning her to the tree behind her just as it had done the girl from Seven. Gasping at the feeling that it's ripping her flesh when she struggles, she wonders if this arrow is the very same that had pinned the last girl, then she thinks of the infection it could give her, and then Four is pulling the knife from his shoulder with a grunt of frustration.
"Is that all you had?" He scoffs, placing his finger through the ring at the end and twirling it. "One lousy kunai?"
At least now I know what it's called, thinks Embelia, gritting her teeth in pain. She refuses to let him see her falter in her pain, much as she'd like to.
"You fought," he sighs, gripping the weapon and stepping toward her. "I have to respect it. You're not so bad for an Eleven. I'll make it quick–"
Korren shouts as he leaps from behind a tree, slamming into Four and wrapping his arms around his middle. Both boys tumble to the ground, though Four doesn't go easy.
They're a tangled mess of limbs as Korren does his best to wrestle him down and keep him there, both of them grunting and shouting with exertion and desperation.
Embelia reaches for the arrow in her arm, taking a few puffing breaths before ripping it free with a short scream. She discards it, watching as Four manages to pin Korren, knees on his shoulders. He pants, shaking his head as though to shake away a haze. The kunai is pointed right at Korren's face.
She leaps forward, practically falling onto Four's back and grabbing his wrist to pull it away from Korren. Four screams in frustration, reaching back and burying a hand into Embelia's hair, pulling on the messy braid at the root and making her yell in response.
"What did you do to me?!" He cries.
"Let it go!" Embelia shouts back, digging her slender fingers into his wrist in hopes of keeping it still.
Four screams again, a long, low, frustrated sound as he fights the effects of the poison. Embelia feels him slacken just a little, feels his focus go elsewhere, sees him lift his head to look at something she can't see. She moves his arm as his muscles falter, clumsily plunging the knife right into his chest. Four only grunts, and Embelia does it again, messily making him stab himself until he goes limp and his fists open. The kunai goes tumbling to the ground by Korren's head and he releases his grip on Embelia's hair.
He gurgles, going limp. Embelia, with her arm wrapped around him, holds him up before he falls. Grunting slightly with his dead weight, she pulls him back and leads him as gently as she can to lay on his back.
His head falls in her lap, gazing up at the sun through the trees with wheezing breaths. Korren sits up with a gasping breath, rubbing at his shoulders as he shuffles over to the dying boy.
Four looks up, murmuring something incoherent before Embelia makes out a small, whispered word. "Ma?"
Embelia stares down at him and, surprising herself, pushes some coily hair from his forehead. The sun shines on his face, passing through the leaves and illuminating him in such a way that Embelia notices how he looks so very young. She sees tears in his eyes. Maybe it's the poison showing him someone not there. Maybe it's a ghost come to collect him, to lead him to whatever's next. She supposes she'll never know, for the boy's breathing slows to a stop and the arena echoes with the boom of a lone cannon.
She gently lifts his head from her lap and lays him down, looking at Korren. He'd been watching her, though she hadn't realised. She inclines her head toward him. "Are you okay?"
He nods, his eyes flicking to her arm. "You?"
She nods too, slowly standing up and rolling back her shoulder. The pain is awful, but she can ignore it. Korren stands up beside her.
No more words pass between them. Both of them know, this is it. Top three. No more hiding in their treehouse, no more quiet moments, one more day to share before one of them must go. Embelia offers him her hand.
Korren takes it.