The Hunger Games: The Pawns

Chapter 4: Blood in the Water

~~Marten Lewis~~

Marten Lewis cast the iron-tipped spear into the midst of the creek with the brutish strength of an ox. When he was sure the bladed end had found its mark, he pulled it from the water and peered at the wound. It was straight through the skull, leaving the muscle fully intact. Smiling, he placed the perfect catch in his satchel. This, he supposed, was what life was supposed to feel like. He never wanted to step on dry land again.

"Nice catch, small fry," came the voice of his older sister, Willy. She wiped her dirty bangs from her high-boned face and breathed a short sigh. On the tip of her own spear was a fish of better size and quality. She laughed. "Mine's better, but hey, your fish was father away."

Willy was three years older than him, and was a giant compared to other girls in the district. She stood just above six feet tall and could bench more than most though was humanly possible, and Marten was no different. His family was not renowned for being particularly handsome, but for being tough as bricks. As long as he could remember, Marten had never found anyone stronger than him that didn't reserve a place on the Lewis family tree. Everyone knew them as "those giant fishermen down in Amber Creek." A day when Marten caught no fish was a day lost to him.

"Yup," he replied simply. Marten wasn't anything of a talker. He'd always figured actions spoke far louder than words, and anything he had to say, he would do so through how he carried himself. He enjoyed silence. It was rather peaceful, and in District Four, peace was a rare commodity. Four was loud, raucous, annoying and everything down to the children playing in the streets smelled of fish. Of course, what could he expect from a district where half the men ride the ocean all year?

Willy, however, was radically the opposite. Any time she wasn't talking, she was in the creek with a spear. She was cheerful where Marten was solemn. She preferred her things in sequence and orderly, but Marten found that much too taxing a lifestyle. If the two weren't always the tallest and bulkiest in the room with the same Lewis streak of dirty blonde hair, no one would be able to recognize they were related.

The girl threw her spear into the river once again and only barely missed a giant trout. Almost instantaneously, it swam to the north and out of view. "I think we'll call it a day, man," she said. She tossed her wicker satchel to the riverbank and tiptoed her way to the shore. Marten did the same. As he sat down in the coarse gravel of the beach, he peered up into the maroon sky, lit with a blistering sun just above the horizon. He knew that somewhere just on the other side of it, the world dropped off completely—on the other side of the ocean... Not even President Snow knew what resided past the Great Sea.

"So, I'm thinking tomorrow... we bring an extra spear... and we bring Jill along," Willy smiled, talking about their cousin who had turned ten years old three days ago. "She's been wanting to come out here with us for months. I say it's time we let her." She glanced at her brother and then her elated expression turned to one of concern. She could tell Marten wasn't in the best place today. "What's wrong, kid? You usually love sitting out here at sunset." After a brief moment of silence, she knew the answer. "You heard?"

Marten hung his head in a concentration. Earlier that day, he had received the terrible call from the hospital and from his Aunt Myra. Their grandfather passed away yesterday from his battle with lung cancer. He wasn't normally one to brood, yet today, this had a strange effect on him. It was the first time in his life anyone really important to him had died... and he couldn't shed a single tear. The thought of this angered him.

"Grandad wouldn't want us to loom over his death." Willy shook her head. "He wasn't that kind of person. Grandad was the kind of person who took his fishing spear in one hand and his life in the other." She paused for a moment before twisting her toes in the mud and speaking softer. "He was..."