Sea of Flames | f. odair

CHAPTER 20 | THE DECOLLATE

"How many of us are left?" Griffin asked.

"Too many."

They lapsed into another silence, sitting on the ground near the river, waiting for something to happen. Perhaps the Gamemakers were leading another tribute to them, or a pack of those red salamanders would burst from the tree-line and chase them until one of them slithered into their flesh. But when it reached the afternoon, Cassia began to fall victim to the serenity of the arena.

"I know I'm going to sound awful, but I'm bored." Griffin had his head in Cassia's lap and she ran her fingers through his dark hair. She could tolerate touching him this way, there was no skin-to-skin contact, no part of her body open to his advances that could prove her unresponsive.

"Count to two-hundred," she mused.

He started counting, a smile edging at the corners of his lips.

When he reached halfway, Cassia decided to go fill her canteen up.

"I'll be right back," she said, navigating the steep rocks leading to the river. She spotted a few fish under the current and thought about how they would be good for a dinner.

Crouched down with the canteen partially in the cold rush of the water, she thought about how close she was to winning. It was strange at how far she had gotten, and this caused her to wonder how many people in the Capitol have made bets on her victory. She wasn't sure if she could win, especially if it came down to her and Griffin, or some younger tribute that was left; but she would try, not for herself, but for the people waiting for her return home. From the time that has passed since she left home, she has come to realize how much she truly was not fighting for herself, but her family. It seemed to become a mantra for her; that she would fight for them, she would destroy her soul if it meant seeing them again, if it meant an ounce of their happiness.

She tried not to picture Evelin sitting in the main room of the house, staring at Cassia fill the canteen, wondering if her sister would survive the next hour; but she couldn't help it as the image surfaced to the forefront of her mind. Picturing the stained carpet and the lumpy sofa among the peeling, white walls of the main room. On the ledge of a window, the television would project her face and the other tributes, flickering between them from time to time to maintain the audience's interest.

Evelin would be stoic yet elegant, as she braced for the moment Cassia wouldn't be able to survive the next attack. Her light brown hair would appear blonde in the afternoon light and her blue eyes would be the color of a spring sky, yet they would be shrouded in exhaustion; sleepless nights of waking, to reach out for the warmth of her sister, but would only find the empty dip in the bed where Cassia's body used to be.

Shaking away the image, Cassia put a few drops of iodine in the water and capped the canteen. As she once again maneuvered up the steep hill of rocks, she felt in her bones that something was amiss. Something was not right. It was too quiet, she realized, listening to the birds chirping louder than before.

Griffin had stopped counting.

Heart pounding in her chest, she realized she didn't bring a single weapon with her. Panic flooded her entire body, the creeping roar of silence instilling in her mind. She climbed the rocks more slowly, fingers biting into the hard stone, only to hear a gruff voice ask: "Who else is here with you?"

"Like I'd tell," Griffin laughed.

She had no other option but to face the conflict up ahead.

What she saw startled her. Griffin was on his knees, head craned high away from the blade of the axe that pressed against his trachea. It was the male tribute from Seven that had been the other tribute that ambushed them in the mountains. The one she had let slip away at the feast. He was bruised up and had a few nasty cuts, but was seemingly fine. His brown, shortly cropped hair appeared reddish in the sun and the dark circles under his eyes made the dilated expression on his face almost manic.