Final Reality (THG Fanfic)

Part 3: The Annexation // Chapter XIX

When the ten o’clock wave recedes back into the sector next to us, we move everyone and everything into the ten to eleven wedge just as the insects start clicking, so we will theoretically have twelve hours free of horrors. Pommel starts a fire on the beach, out in the open. It’s risky, sure, but now that we’re awake and prepared for another ambush, I think the careers will reconsider hunting us down. For now, that is. I help heave Jaeda close enough to the fire so Primrose can take a better look at her wound. Even though I only have the basic knowledge on cuts and bruises, it doesn’t take a genius to see that Jaeda’s back has worsened. Jaeda slipped out of conscious after overexerting herself with laughter, but we haven’t heard a cannon since Bleeker’s hours ago.

I act as Primrose’s assistant by handing her what tools we have and the herbs we gathered earlier. It still surprises me that after seeing her cry like the little girl she is – or should be, in fact – she’s become stronger. Not cold-hearted or stone, but braver and selfless and mature. She remains calm as she applies chewed leaves into Jaeda’s back, hoping to extract the poison. And it does. The odd thing though is that instead of the poison seeping out as a liquid, it puffs out like gas or steam in the shade of green. “What the hell kind of poison is that?” Quent asks, craning his neck to see what’s happening.

“More importantly, where the hell did Deven get the poison from?” questions Pommel.

There’s a period of silence as Primrose tries to conjure an answer. “Well, he couldn’t have exactly captured some of that fog,” Primrose says, unsurely. “The fog is white and this is green. Therefore, he could either have found a source in one of the three sectors we don’t know about. Or it came from the heavens in a parachute.” The latter seems more plausible, and even though no one says or protests anything, I can easily tell that they’re thinking the same thing.

“Speaking of parachutes,” Cathal says, pointing to the sky. I hadn’t noticed before, but he has excluded himself from the Concerned About Jaeda Committee and has situated himself across the fire. He stands up to retrieve the package just before it flies into the fire, and opens it as he walks in our direction. “’Sorry’, signed ‘K’” Cathal reads out.

To my shock, Primrose pushes me over and lunges for the container in Cathal’s hands. I look across to Quent and ask him why she jumped. “K for Katniss,” he smiles. “I thought it was obvious.” I hear Pommel mutter dumbass under his breath, so I respond with a playful elbow in his stomach. We refrain from laughing.

“Why is she apologizing?” I ask no one in particular.

Primrose walks over with the container now in her hand. “No medicine,” she replies. “But she sent us bandages, string and a needle, which will have to do. Cathal, can you sterilize the needle for me, please?” Cathal grabs the needle from her and sticks it in the fire, while I help Primrose wash the dry blood from Jaeda’s gash.

Primrose makes me wrap Zara’s arm with the bandages, which I don’t know why she would. I can hardly put a plaster on without letting the sticky bits stick to each other. Despite that, I obediently do as she says even though I suck at it. Quent notices and helps me, after laughing at me. Next to me, I see Primrose sewing Jaeda’s wounds together and Pommel trying to hold in his stomach. Quent, Zara and I softly chuckle at the queasy career. When finished, I give the rest of the bandages to Primrose, and together with Pommel, they manage to adequately cover the gashes without waking her. And without Pommel losing his guts.

“That’ll have to do,” Primrose sighs. “Without medicine, she’ll be able to hold out for just a couple of days. This is all we can do for now.” Everyone sits back and takes in humid air just as the twelve bongs sound. Cathal puts out the fire and suggests we all rest. No one protests, clearly glad to submit to the tendrils of sleep.

I no longer feel the need to sleep so I volunteer to take the first watch. “No, it’s alright,” interrupts Cathal. “I can keep watch. You sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” I tell him, “Neither am I fully rested, but I’m awake enough.” He doesn’t argue, instead he nods sadly and sits down in front of the fire pit facing the beach. I join him after returning Primrose’s bow and arrows. It’s quite a while before either of us speaks again, four hours in fact. By then, the sky is a dull grey and we can hear the distant screams of jabberjays.

“When was the last time you slept for real?” Cathal asks. I don’t know what kind of question that is. In reality, I hadn’t really slept since the night of the Tribute Parade. But emotionally, maybe ten years ago, the night before the Reaping that broke my heart. How I yearn for JD’s strong, warm arms wrapped around me.

“Not since the Parade.” I feel like I’m lying. “What about you? Last time you had a nightmare free slumber?”

Cathal chuckles to himself, focussing on the damp sand and seashells by his boots. There’s an awkward silence that follows as his chuckle dissipates. I don’t attempt to make eye contact with him, but I do notice him glancing at me from time to time. He exhales tiredly. “On the way to the Capitol,” he answers. Liar.

“Because of Lorna?”

“Because of Lorna,” he confirms. “She’s like a sister, she’s my anchor, really. Both of you are, actually. I’m grateful for that, thank you.”

“Thank you? It sounds like you’re already saying goodbye,” I frown, almost chuckling.

He looks at me miserably, verifying that I’m right and I let the levity leave my face. Cathal doesn’t add anything after that. He simply averts eye contact with me and stares out to the beach. “You know why I agreed to save Prim?” he asks when the sun rises. I am shocked he suddenly brings up the plan. Well, not entirely, but I bet the Capitol’s views on me has changed significantly. I don’t say anything, but he continues anyway. “You remember when Katniss decorated Rue, with the flowers?”

“Clear as day,” I answer. Fletch and I was snuggled up on the couch while my father held my mom in his arms. I remember tears freely flowing from my mother’s eyes as Katniss sang Rue a lullaby, the one about the meadow. We could hardly hear the cannon fire because of Katniss’s screams. She ran off, but before the hovercraft appeared, Katniss returned with a bouquet of wildflowers. I remember the whole scene being omitted in her final interview, and I think my dad threw a vase at the television because of it.

“Her death, I think, was the most despicable of all that I’ve seen,” Cathal says. “And, just like what Katniss said in District 11, she – we – we see her in Prim. Even if this arena becomes the scene of my murder, that little blonde girl is getting her tiny ass out of here alive. And you know I know you have the same thing in mind.” He’s not wrong on that one; I’ll give you that.

Someone shifts closer towards us from behind, which makes both Cathal and I jump. I almost throw a knife into her eye and Cathal nearly buried a spear into her heart, that’s when we realize it’s only Zara and her coil of wire. She situates herself in between us, setting the spool on her lap. “I know how to get her out,” Zara whispers. “And not just her – all of us.”