❖ Book 1 of 3 ❖
【 Slow burn fanfic 】
║ A Prequel to the Hunger Games Trilogy ║
Isla Dunne of District 4 was a career. She had trained her whole life for the Hunger Games, an annual event held by the Capitol. A blood bath where 2 children, ages 12-18...
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AS TIRED AS they were, their dip in the lake had slightly revitalized them. Enough to put some distance between themselves and the water source as the stars began to show overhead. They had decided to only sleep for a few hours, allowing them to continue their journey in the early hours of the morning, before the sun would reach its peak and inevitably bring the heat with it.
Killian chose their shelter for the night once more, a run down building with four walls and a roof, the most they could ask for. They'd put several blocks between themselves and the lake, and even zigzagged through the streets in an attempt to throw off anyone that might've followed them back.
The air had become frigid once more, and Isla's wet hair was cold as it clung to the back of her neck. "Want me to put it back the way it was?" Killian asked, eyeing the girl as she struggled to maintain her long locks.
"If you don't mind?" She formed it as a question, and the boy just nodded. He slid over to her, combing her hair back with his fingers. He successfully recreated the hairstyle that the avox had given her the morning of the games. She didn't have to ask him how he knew how to braid hair, it was obvious considering he braided rope daily back home.
"We should try and stay warm." He commented, avoiding outright saying what that meant. Isla wondered if he was using it as an excuse for the two of them to be close, but she also knew he was right. If she tried to sleep on her own, her chattering teeth would surely keep the two of them awake for hours.
They resumed their position from the night before as he held her close to his chest. Isla was thankful as he felt like a warm blanket, instantly making her eyes heavier. She couldn't see how this was beneficial to him, she was freezing to the touch. She couldn't understand how her body was providing any type of relief from the cold.
"I thought this would be easy, they always made it sound so easy." Isla muttered into the boy's chest. His breathing changed as he took in her words with a sad sigh. His hand trailed up to her head, gripping her close into him for comfort.
"I know, Isla. It's different, actually doing it. I shouldn't have made you chase down those two kids with me earlier." His voice was soft and sincere, something she wasn't used to hearing.
"Does it not bother you?" She asked, holding her breath. She couldn't imagine a person could be in their right mind if they murdered others without feeling the slightest bit of guilt. However, they had been raised for this. The only reason Isla believed she had an ounce of empathy was due to her mother, and how she clearly didn't support the games and what they represented and involved. Killian's parents had both been supportive of him being a career and raised him with the morals of the games.
"I know its wrong. It feels wrong after I do it. But its what we're supposed to do, and I feel that more, I think." Isla let out the air she had been holding in with a slight nod. At least he felt something. She imagined Nero didn't feel any emotions, let alone for the people he seemed to love killing for sport.
