"Dahlia Blossom. Don't let the name fool you. She's better known as the Black Dahlia. And she didn't earn that nickname by smiling and looking pretty."
"She sure knows how to perform for the camera."
"Because she knows how to play the game. She alwa...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dahlia gasps awake as a hand is slapped over her mouth. She panics, kicking her legs out in an attempt to halt her attacker until she spots the familiar blonde hair hovering above her. Cove's eyes are widened, practically begging Dahlia to stay still. She brings her index finger to her lips, silently hushing the girl who nods her compliance. Slowly removing her hand, Cove motions for Dahlia to peek over the boulder they're sheltering behind. A truly terrifying sight awaits her. Mutts.
A swarm of mutated bats swirled around in the night sky, their red eyes glowing menacingly in the dark. They circle around Elektra's abandoned body like a pack of bloodthirsty vultures, chittering desperately for a drop of sustenance. Then, as if a gun had gone off, they descended upon their meal to feast on the tribute's flesh. Dahlia and Cove could only watch for a few moments before gathering their supplies and taking the opportunity to escape.
"That's not gonna entertain them for long." Cove announces anxiously, dragging Dahlia along with an iron grip. Together they stumble over the rocks, looking back every once in a while to check on the mutts. "We need to get into the tunnels."
"There's a hatch over here." Dahlia points to an opening just a few metres away, making the two skid to a stop. But the relief of finding an escape is short-lived once the sound of fluttering wings grows closer and closer. "I think they've spotted us."
"No kidding." Cove deapans, yanking the hatch open and ushering for Dahlia to slip through. Just as Cove jumps in behind, the bats catch up to their position. They quickly overwhelm the pair, biting and scratching wherever they can sink their teeth in. While clinging onto the rocky walls with one hand, Dahlia grabs her last remaining knife and stabs it into any creature that comes too close. She hoped it would scare the others away, but these bats are relentless and undeterred. And apparently more clever than they look. They target the hand she is using to grip the wall, knowing that she will fall if she lets go.
Dahlia screams out in distress as the bats continue to swoop down and the sound of their screeches fills her ears. The rocks supporting her feet start to crumble away, causing Dahlia to latch onto whatever she can with both hands. Her eyes are squeezed shut in terror as the mutts swoop down on her. Suddenly, one bat knocks into Dahlia's arm, causing it to buckle and lose grip. She cries out agonisingly, now only hanging on with one hand and her fingers are already starting to slip. Her legs flail about but her boots can't find any grip. In one last desperate attempt, Dahlia reaches up with her aching arm to regain her grip. Just as her fingertips brush the edge of the rock, a cracking noise makes her breath hitch. This hatch was collapsing around her.
The air is sucked out of Dahlia's lungs as her body descends rapidly into darkness. For a moment, she is weightless. Floating on a cloud away from this wretched arena, to a place where she isn't a killer and can live in peace. No fears, no guilt. Just ethereal serenity. Maybe it would be better if she died in these games? Why should she buy into the Capitol's scheme? Would it be such a bad thing if she didn't make it out alive? But then Finnick's voice echoes in her mind.
