Nothing Personal

Sponsors - 11

The package was dangling from a branch, swaying lazily. It was bigger than the one he'd seen given to Amber, and longer. Probably a much-needed weapon, seeing as he hadn't managed to take one in his hurry to not be stranded with Klaus. He scrambled up to it, his foot slipping as one of the smaller branches gave under his weight, and plucked it from the branch. It was heavier than expected and there was a note pinned to the top:

'Crete, it's us! We are so proud of you and we know you can win! You'll make Five proud! We think you can do it without our help, but we were desperate to tell you that we were thinking of you and we couldn't stand the idea of just watching! Keep going, you're doing great! Lots of love, Louisa and your parents.'

"Thanks, guys," he whispered, looking up at the sky so that the cameras would capture the expression on his face. The weather was grey and murky, the kind where the clouds refuse to budge or rain or do anything other than just hanging there blocking the sun. 

Inside the box was just what he had hoped for; a spear. He tested it, jabbing at the tree. The weight and balance were perfect, and the bladework was elegant, with a scythe-like curve to the head and the number five twirling around where the metal joined the wood. It was perfect, if somewhat overly fancy. It must also have been very expensive.

Now he just needed someone to test it on. 

He settled for scratching his name and the number five into the tree. Something for the crowds too gather around, when they opened the arena to the public. He could imagine it; 'and here, these actual marks were made by the first District Five winner in over thirty five years...'

He had to win first.

And where was Grace? She was still alive, somehow. He'd never expected her to get far, and especially not this far. Although he knew that if he had to kill her, he would. Had she killed anyone? He already knew the answer.

His kill count was one. Lizz, the silent one from District Ten. 

He went right, sticking to the edge of the arena. His instinct was buzzing away at the back of his mind, but he ignored it. Paranoia could do that to you. He should probably have something to drink because he hadn't since yesterday, but he hadn't managed to bring anything with him. The stream would be nearby, if he carried on. He wasn't sure why he wanted to circle; maybe to catch anyone trying to stay out of the way. If any of the remaining tributes were the type to try.

Court was in a bad way. Raylum wasn't sure how. Her leg had swelled up around the thigh and she was sweating, her clothes sticking to her. Her eyes roved wildly over the ceiling. At least she didn't cry out in pain.

Raylum felt like he might. He'd just woken up in the morning, huddled up at her feet, to find her whimpering. A bite of some sort, maybe. He was struggling to think straight.

"We...need to get out...of here," she gasped, almost biting her own tongue. He nodded, dumb. This wasn't happening. 

"Well...don't...don't just sit there. Are we...going...or not?" she huffed, trying to haul herself up into a sitting position. She failed, her arms trembling. 

Before he really computed it, he was carrying her in his arms, out of the cold stone building. Her head lolled aimlessly, but she was obviously still conscious. She was in a lot of pain. But she was being brave. Because that was what she was; brave. Braver than he was. It should have been him who was bitten. She felt so small like this, the bow dangling in her hand.

"Medicines," she said.

On cue, a package marked Twelve floated out of the air, landing expertly on her stomach. It took her three turns to open it, Raylum carrying her tenderly all the while. He didn't know where they were going, just that they were going away. 

She groaned and held up the note so that he could read it. It trembled badly, but it was still just about legible and had obviously been written in a hurry.

'Sorry GMs not letting antidote in, already in arena apparently. Breaking that rule for other tributes but this better than nothing. Can say it's in small blue packet next to Cornucop. Fifteen min walk. Good luck'.

That was all. It didn't say what had bitten her, and Raylum knew that some insect bites could do some serious damage. But he couldn't remember ever seeing a bite get infected as badly or as quickly as this before. Almost as soon as it crossed his mind, he knew why. A mutt. They could do anything with mutts.

Court moaned, a small bubble of spit popping in her mouth. "Does it m-matter?" she croaked. He looked down at her. She didn't look feverish, but this close he could feel that she was burning up. It felt like he was burning up too.

"Be strong," he urged, but his voice sounded brittle and weak. His parents would be furious.

They didn't matter.

Nothing mattered right now but that antidote.

He broke into a jog.

Oak watched him run past, Court helpless in his arms. Something inside him flinched. Even from here he could tell that she was suffering from something. In a pile on the floor, Grace froze as she heard his desperate footsteps.

They faded away without even a pause. Perhaps she heard a quiet, heartbreaking sob.

Perhaps not.