The Panther Girl: 55th Hunger Games

Chapter 13

All right. I stand firm, fixing the horn with a hard glare. I'm ready.

Ten. Nine. I position my feet in a runner's start, the way I used to do right before a race. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eli do the same.

Seven. I remember races in the past. I internally thank my father for our long limbs. If not for that, there would be no chance for either of us.

Six. I somehow, miraculously, remember how we are at races. Eli's good at them, for sure- I have seen no one outrun him. He's that fast. I'm good, too- definitely not the fastest, but I have endurance- which is more than I can say for a lot of kids I know in my year. And when I need it, I have a lot. That has to account for something.

Three.

Get ready, Eli says with his eyes.

Two.

I will, I reply.

Time not to die, Ivy whispers in my ear. She pumps a tiny fist past me. Kick. Their. Butts.

Zero.

Like a spring, my legs unfold, and I catapult over my pedestal.

My feet pound the ground like there's no tomorrow. In a way, there's not. I would have dwelled on this, had I not seen Taurus come at me from my right. I tuck and roll, springing back to my feet just as he crashes to the ground.

Run run run run run run RUN.

Eli's at the horn seconds before me. I meet up with him, and then there's suddenly electricity in the air. The kind seconds before an arena full of desperate kids start killing one another.

Eli hands me an axe. "Go get your bow. Now."

"Right you are."

Right before I turn, a pale hand grabs the same dagger Eli grabs himself. The girl from Ten and him stare for a moment, and then suddenly she is fighting him for the blade. When Eli dodges her punch, the girl jabs her end of the dagger at him. Unfortunately, the hilt connects with his nose, and blood sprays everywhere.

Bow forgotten, I run at the girl and aim a fist at her chest. I know this is foul play, but when did rules apply to a fight to the death? I can't help but feel a ripple of satisfaction as my fist connects hard, and she stumbles back, her hand flying from the hilt to balance herself on the ground. Suddenly deciding this is not her fight, she wheels around the wall of the horn to wherever she plans to go.

"You all right?" I say, pulling Eli to his feet. He nods, either ignoring or unaware altogether of the blood gushing from his nose. I grip the handle of the axe, its existence more important to me now that we've actually been attacked, and then turn to face any next opponent.

We gather a backpack full of supplies and a canteen full of water uninterrupted. Around us, tributes are frantically running around, shoving past each other. I even see a couple of tributes slugging it out over a spear. I'm actually surprised that no one is dead yet, but it won't stay that way for long.

A flash of yellow fabric brushes past me, small and quick. I turn to see Lydia, black hair tied loosely, whirl behind a crate like a sparrow. As I dig out a throwing star to stuff into my backpack, she dashes into the back of the horn. When she comes out, I see a silver thermos in her hands, a triumphant smile on her face. But behind the wall of the horn, I see her smile fade as she backs away from the inside, her face pale. Then I see Cornelius's hulking shape rise up from behind a giant pile of sleeping bags.

Lydia turns and takes flight in the opposite direction, but as soon as I catch the flash of silver in Cornelius's hand, I know that it's already too late. With perfect aim, the knife there flies from his hand. I flinch as I watch it speed through the air and go straight into the side of Lydia's head, her legs going from desperately fast to limp in an instant. Her body hits the ground with a sickening thud, and the thermos rolls into the grass, forgotten by all.