Twenty Four Shades of Blood [A Hunger Games Fanfic]

Eyes Open - 12

They’re looking at her funny.

Ruby sneaks another glance out of the corner of her eyes. The twins are sat opposite each other, eyes fixed on each other over the flickering fire. In the twisting flames, she thinks that she can make out small, identical, plotting smiles playing over their china-doll faces. She scowls to herself. If you’re going to be strong, look it. These two look like slightly overgrown children.

She shuffles again to try and make herself comfortable; both twins’ heads snap round and fix her in a cool glare. Despite herself, it sends a shudder down her back. She fixes her usual frown on her face anyway, not sure which of them she should aim it at. Judging by the reaping tapes, she’d hazard a guess that it’s the boy who is in charge, but both move so simultaneously that it’s hard to tell which is taking their cues from the other.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. At the moment they’re useful, if creepy, but soon they’ll be in her way. She’ll need to speak to Austin about that. As much as she’d hate to admit it, her fighter’s instincts tell her that while she has the advantage of strength, she’d still be risking it to take them both on at once.

For a moment, everything is still. Ruby glares at the twins; the twins stare coolly back at her. Even the leaves don’t rustle in the blissfully chill late night early morning breeze.

Austin tips his face to the sky. He still feels hot and clammy and even though he’s tried daring himself, his muscles won’t let him move far enough away from the group to go to the stream that he can hear whispering tantalizingly in the periphery of his hearing. The trees tower up above him, taller than he could ever have imagined, and every inch coated in jagged leaves or spindly branches or these vines that appear to be everywhere.

The fire - Ruby’s insistence - has made the little clearing too hot for him to take. He doesn’t know why she feels they need a fire, and he suspects that she’s just bluffing, going on past Games that they’ve studied, but he’s not going to bring it up with his squat and scowling district partner. He’s not an expert people reader, but even he can tell that she’s not in this for the district. She’s here for herself, to claim glory and riches, to make a point.

This thought makes him stop straight in his pacing, because why is he here, then? Not for glory and riches. He doesn’t need them. He’s got a comfortable house, plenty of food and the promise of a job once he hits nineteen, in his uncle’s jewellery forge. The usual occupation for ex-trainees, perfect for those with skills honed with swords and weights. But it’s never really been an option for him. Yes, it’s been a possibility, but not one he has ever considered. His future has always involved the Hunger Games.

For his district? To prove their worth, that the only district in Panem to have produced two victors one year after the other isn’t losing their touch? He’s definitely heard it said, somewhere, that somebody said that One were falling behind. Maybe it was on the screen, perhaps last year when Nyx’s strength and balance failed him and he plummeted down into the ravine, screaming all the way; perhaps a commentator made a casual comment, to make the Capitol laugh. He doesn’t remember. He just remembers the white-hot anger, the outrage.

For his district, then.

Suddenly, the glittery comfort of One feels a long way away. His heart clenches in fear, with a sudden longing for the bright lights and shining steel of the underground training complex. In there is safe, practice, repetition. Out here it is exposed, threatening, and nearly silent. Again his mind shows him the girl’s tear-streaked face, plays her screams over and over. Harmless, she was harmless. She just got unlucky and ended up being killed to stop the torture, killed by him...

He crashes back into the clearing and screeches to a halt.

The twins are talking to each other quietly next to the fire, the low muttering completely at odds with their youthful appearances. Both of them glance up to him; the boy speaks.