A Victor's Ally - The 73rd Hunger Games (Fanfiction)

eighteen

My eyes squeezed shut as I waited for the final blow, but it never came. Moe had grabbed Johnny's arm before he was able to bring the knife down on my chest. His had snapped to the side in a fit of rage and he swung his elbow back, delivering a nasty blow to Moe's cheek. Her little body flew backward, knocked off her feet by the tribute twice her size. With his attention on my ally, I quickly rolled out from underneath him, struggling to get to my feet.

My head was still throbbing from my run in with Atlas, and I knew I had a horrible concussion. For the past few days, the cold and adrenaline had numbed my body, but I was finally starting to feel the nasty effects of the gash in my head. Between the snow and my concussion, I was seeing double, but a few blinks quickly brought the world into focus.

I took in the scene in front of me within a few seconds. District One was off to the side, clawing frantically at the snow, probably searching for his sword. Moe was on all fours, looking down at the ground with her hands deep in the snow. Johnny was stalking toward her, a sly grin on his face as he twirled my knife in one of his hands, his axe in the other as if he was contemplating which weapon to bury into her back.

I was frozen, my brain still reeling from my near death a few moments ago. Once again, the small thirteen-year old had risked her life to save mine. But this was the final battle. Moe could have easily let Johnny kill me so she didn't have to do it herself. I knew she would kill me if it came down to the two of us. But for some reason, she attacked Johnny so the knife wouldn't go through my heart.

That thought spurred me into action again, ready to throw myself on the District Seven male so that Moe wouldn't get a knife in her back. But before I could close the distance, Moe suddenly whipped around, an arrow strung tight in her bow. Before Johnny had a chance to react, she sent the arrow flying, meet its mark in the brute's neck. His eyes bulged, shocked, before he fell limply to the ground. Blood covered the capital-made snow, looking even darker against the pure white ground. I stumbled, stopping so suddenly that my feet got caught in the thick snow.

Moe was kneeling, but her bow rested at her side. She looked solemn, but I couldn't find a single trace of regret in her eyes. I heard a cannon go off, and we both jerked out of our stupors. I suddenly remembered the tribute from District One who had been looking for his lost sword in the snow. As if on cue, Moe and I both swiveled our heads in his direction. The small blonde girl tried to get up, but before she could get to her feet, Cliff had tackled her to the ground, the two of them rolling dangerously close to the edge of the mountain.

"No!" I screamed, lunging forward, ignoring my aching and protesting muscles. Cliff pushed Moe off his body when she had rolled on top, sending her small frame, even smaller than usual from the lack of food in the arena, sliding quickly toward the side, the thick snow doing nothing to slow her down. I shouted something incomprehensible again as I saw the bottom half of her body go over the edge of the cliff.

Wide eyed, she clawed at the snow, attempting to grab onto something to pull herself back up, but the snow was too slick for her to get a good hold. I rushed forward, but with a sickening feeling in my gut, I knew I wouldn't make it time. Cliff watched on, impassive, as Moe's head sank below the edge and disappeared from our view. The last I saw was the tips of her fingers slipping over the side before my vision turned red with rage and I raced toward the remaining tribute.

I screamed almost animalistic as I tackled him, not even caring as we fell together in the bloody snow. I clawed at his face with my nails, taking pleasure in the blood that welled up from the tiny scratches. All the frustration, fear, and anxiety that had filled me up during my time in the arena was coming out and I couldn't control it. I continued to punch and claw, but eventually Cliff caught himself and grabbed my arms, holding them still and easily overpowering me. He forced me onto my back as I continued to screech, effectively shutting me up with a punch to the jaw.

The force caused my head to snap backwards, making my skull throb and my vision go blurry again. His hands found their way around my neck, beginning to squeeze the air out of my body. I choked and clawed at his hands, panicking when I realized I couldn't get air in my lungs.

Using all the strength I had left, I threw up my arms and used my body weight to maneuver Cliff off my body and onto the snow beside me. It was a move I had used many times before when wrestling with Luke, except Cliff was much heavier and I was much weaker than usual. He fell beside me, not as far as I hoped, but far enough that I was able to quickly scramble to my feet. I could see the drop off behind him, and all I needed was a well-placed punch or kick to send him over the edge. Cliff began to stand, his arena clothing wet from the blood covered snow near Johnny's body.

Moe's face flashed in my mind, and I knew there was only one way for me to win. Hand to hand combat wasn't my strength, especially against a trained tribute who was almost twice my size. I needed to get as close to the edge as possible. The thought sickened me, reminding me of how Luke's own games had ended with the District One female falling over the side of a cliff. But my only other option would be to find a weapon, which were all long lost as the snow fell harder and thicker.

I dove toward him, ready to push him backwards again, but the glint of metal in his hand made me hesitate. The hesitation cost me, and before I could pull away, he grabbed me with one arm and pulled me toward him, bringing his other arm around from behind his back. I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen and looked down to see my own knife sticking out from my stomach. I stared down in surprise, realizing that he must have found the knife in the snow near Johnny's body. The pain began to register and I stumbled, my hands clutching at the new wound.

Cliff staggered backward and away from me, a victorious smirk on his face. His expression flooded me with anger and I took another pained step toward him, watching as he once again stepped back to watch me suffer. He was so close to the edge, and by the triumphant look on his face, he was too busy gloating to notice. With the last of my strength, I fell forward into the snow, bringing my leg around to swipe his feet out from underneath him. It was clearly the last thing he had expected, and his mouth formed a perfect 'o' as he stumbled backward, attempting to regain his footing. He must have misjudged how close we were to the side, and I watched as he stepped until his heel met the edge of the mountain cliff. His arms flailed almost comically as he went too far over the edge, but I was so dizzy I couldn't tell if I was seeing correctly.

I fell from my knees down onto the snow, looking up at the gray sky and the falling snow. My face was numb, as was almost every part of my body, but the burning fire in my stomach was definitely there. The snow was so high around me that it almost felt like a warm little cave, shielding me from reality. The wind was so loud and the snow in my ears muffled everything that I couldn't tell if a canon had gone off or not.

Was I the victor? I tried to think back to the last twenty minutes, but everything was fuzzy. Had I heard a canon gone off for Moe? Had I heard one for Cliff? Even if I was the last tribute standing, I wouldn't be for long. The thought of a victorless Hunger Games made me laugh out loud. I probably looked crazy. But it certainly wasn't possible to come out of the arena completely sane.

My vision started to blur, and I didn't have any energy left to resist it. The fight had gone out of me the minute I hit the snow, which began to seem comfier by the second. This wouldn't be a horrible way to die. I didn't even feel cold – probably a result of the pain and hypothermia. I snuggled deeper into the ground, feeling resigned. An image of Luke, distraught as he watched me bleed out, appeared in my mind, and I frowned. Why was he upset? Didn't he realize how nice it finally was to just lay here and give up?

I could have sworn I saw the black shape of ahovercraft against the gray sky, but the black creeping into my vision and thefiery pain took over before I could register anything else.