I climb down the tree to tell everyone the news. "Well, the force field has us trapped in a circle. A dome, really. I don't know how high it is though. There's the cornucopia, the sea, and then the rainforest. Very exact. Very symmetrical. Not very large." I explain.
"See any water?" Finnick asks.
"Only where we started the games," I say.
"There's gotta be some source close by, and we have to find it soon. The baby needs it." Peeta says putting his hand on my stomach. I nod my head.
"The foliage is thick, so maybe there are ponds or springs somewhere." I say doubtfully. I feel the Capitol want these unpopular games over as soon as possible. "At any rate, there is no point going beyond this point, because there is nothing."
"There's nothing drinkable between the wheel and the force field?" Peeta says nervously. We all know what happens if we go back. Back to the careers. Back to the bloodshed. It will be nearly impossible with Mags barely able to walk and Peeta too weak to fight.
We move down the hill a couple hundred yards and continue walking the circle. Seeing if maybe there is water at that level. I stay in the lead, occasionally throwing nuts at the force field. By mid afternoon, we are all too weak to keep going. Finnick chooses a campsite about 10 yards below the force field, using it as a defence by deflecting our enemies at it if attacked. Then Mags and him pick high grass and make them into mats. Since Mags seems to have no ill effects from the berries, Peeta gathers them and fries them by hitting them off the force field. I stand guard, fidgety and hot and raw with the high emotions of the day.
We eat an animal I found lazing about in a tree earlier. It's juicy and tender. Not bad for our first night. Finnick asks questions like 'How high was it, how long did I watch it before shooting, and what was it doing?' I really don't remember it doing anything before I shot at it. Looking around for insects or something.
I'm dreading the night. At least the huts Mags and Finnick made will offer some protection. But a short time before the sun slips to sleep below the horizon, a pale white moon shines, making everything barely visible. Our conversation is left hanging, as we wait for what's to come next. We position ourselves next to each other as we watch the prosthetic sky illuminate with the Capitol crest. And as Peeta's hand slips into mine.
As I listen to the strains of the anthem, I rest my hand on my abdomen. It turns out to be hard to watch this, stupid hormones. My mothering instincts must already be coming in. A man from district 5 shows up first. He is the guy Finnick killed with his trident. That means the tributes from 1-4 are still alive. The four Careers, Beetee and Wiress, and, of course, Mags and Finnick. The man from District 5 is followed by the male morphling from 6, Cecelia and Woof from District 8, both from 9, the woman from District 10, and Seeder from 11. The seal is back with a final bit of music and the sky goes black.
We sit in silence looking at the sky. I am curled up next to Peeta. I then here the familiar beeping that indicates a parachute. A life saving device. I jump a little when I see it and try to get up. But Peeta lightly pushes me back. "I'll get it." he says with a small smile. I nod and sit back as he reaches for the parachute. He opens it and pulls out a small metal object. I hold out my hand to observe it. He hands it off, and I begin examining it. I try to think of a time I have seen one of these. It kinda looks like a pipe, but I know it's not. I begin to turn it around in my fingers. I can only imagine what Haymitch is thinking.
"Any idea what it is?" Peeta asks me. I shake my head. "I've never seen anything like it before." I say staring at it. I put it back in the parachute and shake my head.
"I have no idea" I mumble under my breath. I lay my head on the mat Mags made. Peeta rubs a sore spot between my shoulder blades as he lays next to me. I begin thinking of home. Of Prim. My mother. Gale. I long to be home. To be sitting in woods. By the beautiful stream.
I shoot up out of my laying position "It's a spiel!" I exclaim. I manage to get up and dig it out of the dirty ground. Yes, I've seen one before. On a cold, windy day in the woods. I was out in the woods with my father. Inserted snugly into one of the trees, it was a pathway for the sap to slip into our bucket. Maple syrup could even make our dull bread a delicious treat.
"It's a spiel. Sort of like a faucet. You put it in a tree and sap comes out." I explain. I look around at the sinewy green trunks dug into the brown ground. "Well, the right kind of tree."
"Sap?" Finnick asks. They don't have the right type of tree on the beach either.
"To make syrup," Peeta says. "But there must be something else inside these trees."
We're all on our feet at once, well, almost, I have a bit of trouble. Eventually Peeta helps me up. I feel a tiny movement and slight pain in my abdomen.
Peeta sees my expression and asks, "What's wrong?". I shake my head and smile, grabbing his hand, and placing it on my stomach. I move it to the spot and look into his eyes. "They're kicking" I say happily.
Finnick looks at us expectantly. "Sorry" I say beginning to waddle to a tree. I put it against the tree and bend down to grab a rock, but can't seem to reach it.
"Here" Peeta says, bending down and grabbing the rock. He hands it to me, and I smile gratefully. He smiles back as I turn to the tree and hit the spiel. Sending it snugly into the tree.
We all wait in anticipation, waiting. At first nothing comes out. Then a drop of water rolls down the small pipe, landing in Mags's hand. She quickly licks it and holds out her hand for more.
By moving the spiel around a little, we get a thin stream of water running out. We take turns holding our mouths under the stream, wetting our sand paper tongues. Mags brings over one of the baskets she made, and fills it with water. We pass it around, taking deep gulps, and, later, luxuriously, splashing our damp faces clean.
With our thirst gone, we are now greeted by how tired we all are, and make preparations for the night. Unlike last year, I have no backpack that I will have to prepare each night. So I just need to prepare my weapons in case we need to make a quick retreat. I remember the spiel, and grab some leaves, tying the spiel to my belt with them.
Finnick volunteers to take first watch. We let him, knowing Peeta and I are in no shape for staying up all night. Nonetheless, I tell Finnick to wake me when he is tired.
I am not awoken by Finnick, but by the sound of a bell almost. I count 12. Peeta and Mags sleep through the noise, but Finnick and I have the same look of attentiveness.
"I counted 12" he says. I nod. Twelve. Does it signify something? One for each district? Perhaps. But why? "Do you think it means anything?"
"No clue" he responds.
We wait for a further instructions. Maybe a feast is being held. But we are both answered with nothing but a bright lightning strike. Then a storm begins. I'm guessing it's an indication of rain. A water source, for those with mentors not as intelligent as Haymitch.
"You should rest Finnick, it's my watch now anyways." I say
Finnick hesitates, but he can't stay awake forever. He lays down at the mouth of his hut, as I make my way to the nearest log. I find one conveniently against a tree.
I sit with my bow loaded, watching my surroundings, which is all ghostly pale green in the moonlight. After about an hour, the lightning stops. I hear the rain though still. Waiting for it to reach us, but it never comes.
The fire of the infamous cannon fire startles me, although it makes it makes little impression on my sleeping companions. There is no reason for waking them up because of another death. I don't even allow myself to wonder who it is.
Moments after it stops, I see a thick fog making its way towards us. Just a reaction. Cool rain on hot ground, I say in my head. It continues at a steady pace towards our little camp. As I watch, the hairs on my neck rise. Something is wrong about this fog. The progression of the front line id too uniform to be natural. And if it's not natural...
A bitter sweet oder begins to invade my nose, and I reach for the others, shouting at them to wake up.
In the few seconds it takes to wake them, I begin to feel the searing pain of the fog. It is not natural. It is poisonous.
How was it? So I know people are reading the story, so please vote on if Katniss should have a boy or a girl. I seriously have no idea. Only one person has voted since I posted about the voting. So please vote soon, because in the next couple chapters the voting is gonna be done. And if you want to, you don't have to, leave name suggestions. Because I am horrible at coming up with names. So if you do, I will look over the comments, and when the baby is born, I will choose a name. And then in the note I leave after every chapter, I will say who came up with that name. So please leave your votes on the gender, and a name suggestion if you please. And guys!! 100 views on this story! Even though it has only been up for three days!!! That is amazing!!!! Thank you guys so much! Anyways, the votes are still open, so please leave your vote in the comment box to the side.
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Baby Of The QuellFanfiction
(Undergoing Editing) We all know what happened in Catching Fire with the whole baby , but what would happen if Katniss really was pregnant? How would the games be for her? Would she survive? Would Peeta still get separated from her an taken to the C...