Nothing Personal

Desperate - 10

Skyler had seen Raylum leave, carrying Court tenderly. The rough girl had looked up, straight at her, and she'd ducked and crossed her fingers, but in that little glance it was obvious that she was ill and she'd probably thought she was hallucinating. A little sponsor note had fallen out of the air; they discussed the contents very briefly before Raylum broke into a trot. Puzzled, she'd applied more cream to her arm, though she ought to save it, because it was itching like mad. She should eat something, but she didn't need to and it was probably safer to stay on the roof. Only Oak would think to look for her up here.

Not long after Raylum and Court had vanished behind the houses, she heard a spine-chilling roar and shuddered.

Then she'd heard a cannon. 

She presumed it was Court. She had looked very ill. She desperately hoped that whatever was making her unwell hadn't made her suffer and the hatred flamed up again. How could they just stand by and watch this?

She was still struggling to believe that she was actually here. More to the point, that there were only ten of them remaining and that she was one of them. Would it really be possible to win Oak's way; sit back and let them kill each other?

But Oak wanted to win that way to defy the Capitol. She wanted to win that way for herself.

Somehow, at least one of them was going to die. At least they wouldn't kill each other.

Her bowels grumbled.

Sebastian was cat-napping. He never really slept - that would have meant letting his infallible guard down - but it seemed like he could get his rest by sitting back, closing his eyes, and letting his mind roam rather than focusing it.

Right now he was imagining what the Gamemakers were seeing. In his head there was a rough bird's eye map of the arena, with dots for people's locations. The only one he could be sure of was himself, but he could have rough guesses for everyone else. Crete was out to the east; he'd seen him run away. Megan and Vedran - he was fairly certain they would stick to each other - would probably have gravitated towards a set location, close to the centre of the map. They wouldn't have run around aimlessly. Klaus, being the last remaining Career, would have stuck near the playground, hoping that by now everyone would know that was the Careers' space and avoid it. The Eleven tributes would be hiding; they always did, probably near trees. He dotted the mental markers everywhere there was trees. Which was almost everywhere. Ditto District Twelve, although he wouldn't be surprised if the girl was sneaking around near Klaus somewhere. She looked like the sly, vicious type. A girl after his own heart. Who was left? Ten boy; grassy places. Either the wasteland he'd glimpsed on one of his scouting trips, or one of the two lumps that counted as hills. There was one tribute he couldn't remember, which meant that they probably weren't that important. One of them had just died - the cannon had gone off while he was thinking, with a kind of yell before it - but he didn't know which one and couldn't work it out. It didn't matter, apart from that he was one more closer to winning.

Happy to let his mind relax in the assurance that nobody was likely to be nearby, he reflected on how you could tell where people would hide just by their district. If they had any sense they'd avoid doing that, but of course they didn't have any sense. Except for Vedran. He was a concern, especially with Megan around. He wasn't much of a fighter, but she could be brutal. So he'd have to get her out of the way if his plan was going to work.

No, that was starting to focus on small things. He went back to thinking like a Gamemaker.

It was like looking at a chessboard, moving pieces around an arena, knocking them off until there was only the winner standing. If you could move these two pieces closer together, somehow, they'd have to confront each other. He guessed that that was the reason for the storm.