The Runaway Victor | Book II

Chapter Twelve | The Origins of Orion

| AUTHORS NOTE |

A huge thank you for keeping up with this series! Don't forget to tell me what you think! This chapter wasn't really planned, but a lot of people have asked me to explain a bit more about Orion. So since I am anal about have details planned out for my characters in long character profiles, this chapter was really easy to put together!

Enjoy! Stay classy!

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The safe house was owned by a small family, the Owens. Mr. Owens was a lumberjack, Mrs. Owens was a school teacher-- so they were well to dos. But Quinn was shocked to see that they weren't even as well off as the well to dos in Four. The weather was harsher here although they were still close to Four, food was a bit more scarce-- not much. But still more so than in Four.

She couldn't help but begin to think about the orphans. There had to be orphans in Seven. She couldn't help but wonder if any of the orphans from Four had been sent there, the younger ones anyways. She caught herself wondering whether or not they were treated better here than in Four. When she had been in Seven during her Victory Tour, there had been a handful of packs of children that looks grubby and malnourished. But she hadn't wanted to assume anything about them, she knew what it was like to be looked down on just because she hadn't had a family. She didn't want more kids to feel like that because of her, someone they knew who had lived like them only weeks earlier before the games.

These thoughts kept her up their second night in the safe house. The twins, Marcus and Wade had reluctantly agreed to share the single bed so Jules, Ciruss, Orion, and Quinn could each have their own bed. Quinn had taken the bunk below Jules, and Ciruss had taken the one beneath Orion. The two of them, Quinn and Ciruss, they were at a new level of understanding. They had both survived the games, they both had been forced to see all the families on their tour, then they had both been continuously used by the Capitol. Ciruss had been used more than her, but he seemed to take it a lot better than she had. He had been in the Capitols eye since he won the first Quarter Quell. She had only been in it for a few months.

Quinn sighed heavily, rolling over onto her back so she could stare at the top bunk. The dark circles in the wood weren't all that interesting to look at. But she couldn't sleep, her fingers were fidgeting-- looking for a small rolled up piece of paper that they usually had before bed to help her relax. But it was no where and a bottle of whiskey wasn't next to her bed either. The blankets were scratchy, like the old ones in the warehouse. The pillows were flattened from so much use before they were put in the bunker under the shack above them.

Stop complaining, she thought. She knew it wouldn't be like her house, she knew it would be even more like the warehouse. She didn't think she had become so accustomed to her nice house until she was in her bunk. Just close your eyes at least. She was good at just resting her eyes, that was the best rest she ever got in the arena.

She let out another sigh.

Rolled over onto her stomach.

Sighed again.

Instead of rolling over, she just kicked the blankets off. She couldn't take it anymore. She knew she didn't have a lighter, and she would deal with finding matches in the morning. That would be her mission for the next day. But she didn't need any matches to drink a bit of the whiskey she had managed to bring along in the backpack that she packed before she left.

She set her feet down on the dirt floor, and stood up. She couldn't see all that much. But they had lit a lantern on the small table, so she could at least see the shadows and outlines of things. All of the backpacks were lined up by the second ladder in case they needed to make a hasty get away. She made her way over and felt the straps, looking for the golden pin that Damien wouldn't take back. Once she found it, she hastily unzipped it, and pulled out the half full bottle. Then she got up and walked over to the table and took a seat, the golden glow from the lantern flooded through the bottle and reflected some light onto the table.