Finnick's Story (2.0) • The Hunger Games | ✓

Chapter Twenty-Nine: May the Best Tribute Win

Not even an hour had passed before the Gamemakers decided things weren't exciting enough for them. Peony and I are now caught in a raging thunderstorm, its effects clearly manmade, and it's a borderline nightmare. The rain is coming down hard and fast, and I can barely see five feet in front of me. The wind is blowing around in sharp gusts, whipping across our faces and stinging as we're pelted with raindrops. We're trying to find the shoreline, but our sense of direction has been muddied by the storm. It's our best guess from here.

I'd say it's about fifteen minutes before we see a gap in the trees and brush, and a vast body of water poking through. We rush towards it, and the normally calm water is rapid and raging. Currents are being drawn into high tides, as is typical for a heavy storm, and it stops us short. Peony looks ahead, then looks at me.

"We'd have shelter in the Cornucopia," she shouts. "If we can swim out there."

No one's around that I can see. It'd be a safe place to wait out the storm. "We can. Come on."

She follows me as I approach the water and dive in, immediately being jostled around by the aggressive waves. Weak swimmers wouldn't stand a chance, but Peony and I have an advantage, and we push through the heavy tides. It's not without effort, but we both manage to reach the Cornucopia in minutes. When we climb onto the platform, Peony's breathing heavily, hands on her thighs. However, we're no more soaking wet; the rain had already covered that.

"What if they try to drive us out?" Peony asks as we retreat inside the structure. I lean against the wall, relieved to be temporarily out of the rain.

"Then we leave," I say. Peony doesn't seem settled.

"Or they drive the others here," she adds, realizing what the Gamemakers could do. "This is the site of the Bloodbath. It'd be the perfect finale."

I try to deny that her words make sense. "How would they do that?"

"How do they do anything?" she asks incredulously. She stares outside at the roaring waves, which are tearing up the shoreline. "We shouldn't stay long."

At this stage of the Games, it's always best to keep moving. So I agree with her. "Maybe the storm will calm down soon."

"You're too hopeful."

"It's better than the alternative."

She manages a small grin. "Yeah. I guess it is."

I'm looking out at the shoreline, where the trees are blowing around like mad, and debris is flying everywhere. It's hard to see anything clearly. Being stranded at the Cornucopia as we are, it gives off the illusion of being in the eye of a hurricane. The one region of calm surrounded by a raging storm.

Several minutes pass before either of us speaks again. "Finnick," Peony says, staring out across the water at a specific spot in the forest. "Who's that?"

"What?" I look in the direction that she is, failing to see a 'who' anywhere. She points slightly to the left.

"Over there," Peony says. I look to where she's pointing and can make out a faint silhouette by the baseline of the trees. I squint to try and get a better view.

"It doesn't look like Scalver," I say, as the silhouette looks too small. "Might be Twelve."

"What do you want to do?" she asks.

"Stay here," I tell her, almost unconsciously moving towards the edge of the platform. She follows me and tugs on my sleeve.

"What are you doing?" she asks. I turn around and face a dumbfounded Peony. "It's not worth it, Finnick."