Twenty Four Shades of Blood [A Hunger Games Fanfic]

Paradise Lost - 15

They’re around here somewhere. He can practically smell them, the reek of training and confidence. There aren’t any tracks, but he can’t be wrong. They must be nearby and he’s armed and ready.

The Careers will regret the day they ever underestimated Nash Derrah.

The midday light seeps through the thick leaves as Nash’s small and agile frame twists through the trees, eyes focuses well ahead. He’s used to the partial darkness; the mines back home are pitch black. They don’t rustle, come to think of it, but he refuses to let that bother him. The tree bark is moist and spores of moss come away on his palm as he releases the trunk. The light is as patchy as his freckles, and his hair is slicked back from his face, the vines and leaves gliding noiselessly over it as he ducks under them and into a small clearing.

Perhaps it used to be a courtyard of some sort. A soft green stone sculpture, worn by time and weather until it is unrecognizable, and surrounded by a sort of bowl filled with putrid water, perches in the sudden beam of light, the ground at its feet cracked with oily weeds and dotted with scrambling insects. Crumbling arches encircle the old fountain, yellowing and seeping dust into the light, and above them sit lopsided windows, some covered with smudged glass, and a slate roof with tiles missing.

Nash ignores the scene.  He’s here for one thing, and nothing is going to distract him from that.  He stops for a moment by the fountain, listening intently for any noise from the surrounding jungle.  HIs eyes drift over the insects that skitter about on the surface of the stinking water.  There’s nothing nearby.  Not that he can hear, anyway. Just the rustle of leaves and his own footsteps, muffled by the vegetation, and his own breathing.

He moves toward the edge of the clearing, sliding the broken remains of one red mossy tile aside with a cautious foot.  It scrapes over the stone, the sound loud and incredibly harsh.  Nash jumps; it’s been so long since he’s heard any noise apart from the cannon booms earlier that he’s not used to it.

He’s lost the track. With a small hiss of irritation that falls flat, he quickly steps behind the teetering remains of an arch, just in case he’s being followed, and looks for some kind of disturbance in the constant drifting dust that would indicate movement.

They’d never have expected him to think of that.

Nothing. The dust continues to dance aimlessly, trapped in the same courtyard since before Panem even existed. Next to the pillar, Nash seems smaller than ever, and the throwing star gripped in his hand looks like a child’s toy. Slung over his back is a tiny backpack that is barely big enough for a bottle of water. Sweat gleams on his neck. He slides across the last open patch of ground until he’s standing in the dappled shadows beneath the trees again. The bark is soft and warm to his touch, and feels almost like old leathery skin. One hand tugs his shirt away from his sweating back. He hates these shirts, hates the way the heat makes it cling to his body like a second skin, hates the fact that it is at least a size too big for him. The bagginess is a constant reminder that the bright plastic people of the Capitol really don’t care about him.

He’ll just have to show them, like he shows everyone.

Above him in the tree, Eden barely dares to breath.  Her body is suddenly invaded by a hoarde of itches as she fights to remain motionless above the boy standing below her.  He’s leaning against the tree and panting slightly, staring intently straight ahead. It’s hard to tell, but he might be muttering to himself. One hand clenches the handle of her knife where it’s tucked into her boot.  Slowly, inch by silent inch, she tugs it free, staring almost mesmerized as the shining steel emerges into the light.  He’s so small, and it would all be over so fast...

Thom is still shaking from the blind panic of the twilight bloodbath. His hands twist in the knots and he has to take several deep breaths to calm himself before he can even attempt to untie them. How stupid it would be to press on and find himself in a knot when somebody attacked?