May The Odds Be Ever In Our Favour {PurplePhone | Hunger Games}

Four.

"Guys, I found one!"

Scott leapt up into the higher branches of the tree, his heart pounding through his body, clutching one hand - a hand that was filled with his first meal in days - protectively to his chest.

He heard shouting as the some of other tributes tried to climb the tree after him, but Scott was fast. He leapt to another tree and nestled in the branches. Most of the tributes were too busy clambering over the tree they thought he was in to even notice he was no longer there.

He peeled his hand away from his chest to find dark purplish juice dripping from his hand and down his shirt. He'd been so busy getting away from the Career tributes that he'd completely mutilated his tiny collection of berries.

Sighing, Scott lifted the hand to his lips, licking off the dark juice and putting what was left of the berry skins into his mouth. His stomach protested, demanding more, but Scott couldn't oblige. Now that the other tributes knew he was nearby, the safest thing to do was to stay here in the tree until they decided he was gone and moved onto another area.

He hated this. He hated having to live like some hunted animal, living in an arena filled with food but still not even able to satisfy his own stomach's craving for fear of being killed.

I should go down there, and plead with them to end my life. Scott thought.

Next second, an incredibly loud sound beside Scott's ear. It sounded like a tornado, a whoosh of cyclonic wind, making the whole tree shake. He jumped, almost falling to the ground as a second arrow landed right beside his nose.

I take it back! I didn't mean it! I like living! Scott yelped, turning around and jumping up to a higher branch instantly, his heart thumping so fast it might have ripped out of his chest entirely.

The tributes below jeered at him as he climbed higher and higher, adrenaline making his spindly limbs ten times as strong as they would be usually.

"Hey, little bird!" A boy from below called out as he fit another arrow to his bow. "Where you going? We only want to talk!"

"Mmm~," A girl cackled unkindly. "Shoot him down. I could do with some bird meat. We can pluck his feathers from his corpse, string him up and cook him over the fire..."

Scott whimpered from up in the tree. He had climbed so far that the limbs were getting too thin to support his weight. He hugged to the trunk of the tree, feeling it sway, and prayed that the boy would run out of arrows soon.

Fwoop! An arrow stuck into the trunk, on the other side of where he was balancing, which luckily meant it didn't get pierced into his body. The only good thing about his situation was he was so high up that it was hard to get a good aim through the leaves.

Scott let out a deep breath, pulling one of his arms away from the tree trunk to look at his hand. His fingers were trembling violently; in fact, his whole body was shaking like a leaf. He snatched his hand away again as an arrow barely missed his fingers, shooting past him to hit the tree behind.

He could imagine it now: an arrow piercing his chest, or not even! Just enough to make him fling his arms away from the tree, and he'd overbalance, falling metres to the ground, the last sound he'd ever hear the sound of his own neck snapping. He squeaked, hugging himself tighter to the tree in desperation.

"You're in a bit of trouble now, aren't you, birdy?"

Scott whipped around, half expecting to see the tributes who were shooting at him in the tree branches behind him.

He blinked, "Vincent?"

"Do you have any idea how many supplies I've wasted chasing you through the bush?" Vincent hung onto the tree trunk with one arm, an amused look on his face. He was on a different tree to Scott, and a little further down (surely Scott was the only one light enough to be this far up). "I had to leave half of my pack at the foot of some tree just so I could climb high enough to find you."

Despite himself, Scott glared viciously at the boy. "Well, I'm glad you had enough supplies that you can just throw them around while pursuing your own whims. I hope you got all the views you wanted."

"Well, I was just-" Vincent was cut off as an arrow tore through the air, past him and up towards Scott's exposed torso. Scott only missed by literally dropping off of the branch, wrapping his legs around it as tightly as he could and hoping that was enough to keep him hanging upside down. He reached up and wrapped his arms around the branch too, hugging the underside of it.

"A-As you can see," he managed to keep his voice from wavering, "I'm a little busy at the moment. I suggest you take your charity elsewhere."

Vincent looked down the way he'd come, and the sheer height of the tree he was in hit him hard. With absolutely no way of attacking the tributes below, it would be easy for them to kill him, thereby eliminating the most dangerous player of the games. He wouldn't allow that to happen.

Vincent swallowed slightly, his voice changing to be almost threatening, "C'mon, tweety-bird. Why don't you flutter down here and teach me how to hide from Robin Hood and his friends?"

Scott laughed mirthlessly, "I hope they shoot an arrow so far through you, they pin your corpse to the tree."

Vincent growled, taking a step towards the fragile tribute only to fling himself back at the tree as an arrow whizzed past him. "C'mon," his voice had an edge of desperation to it. "What... what can I do to make you change your mind?"

"Kill yourself as slowly and painfully as you possibly can. Maybe just let go of that tree and fall backwards," Scott spat. "That would get a lot of views."

"I-I... I was just joking about the whole views thing," Vincent swallowed, closing his eyes to ignore how long of a fall it was. "I feel really bad about killing that District... uh... 5? The District 5 girl. If I could do it again, I'd do it quickly and painlessly, and I'd apologise to her family afterwards. You..." Vincent looked down at the ground and subconsciously pressed himself further into the tree. "You really opened my eyes..."

Scott felt his limbs begin to burn, it becoming harder and harder to hold onto the branch. He bit his lip, "And...?"

"And..." Vincent crouched down on the branch to make himself as small a target as possible. "I promise when I kill you I'll bury you in flowers, just like that Catnip lady did with that District 11 tribute, years ago. And I'll make it so quick, you won't feel a thing. And! I'll apologise to you before I do it!" Vincent added, his voice raising in pitch as he barely missed another arrow.

Scott paused. The story of Katniss and Rue was famous in his district. They treated Rue like a valued member of the community, considered her death the most peaceful way to go, considered Katniss a true heroine. Wasn't the story of Scott and Vincent virtually a repeat of Katniss and Rue?

Scott would like to be remembered like Rue was. At least then, he'd be something, even if he nothing while he was alive. His eyes filled with tears, "I..."

"Hurry up and make up your mind," Vincent hissed at him. "I can't stay up here any longer!"

Scott sniffled slightly, "You... you promise you'll kill me nicely?"

"I promise," Vincent's voice changed. Now it was smooth and kind. Caring. It was hard for Scott not to believe him.

After a while of thinking, Scott nodded almost imperceptibly and loosened himself from the branch. "We... we better get out of here, then."