Iron Rations

James Connor- Philip Hound

I stared at my reflection in the pond. Often I'd see my twin sister too: she had always been fascinated by reflections. But right now, there's no Yule to bother the silence. Now no one's fussing about the fact that I'm not looking for food. No one is fussing about the fact that I'm merely staring at myself seemingly without any real purpose.

It's been almost two days or something since I've been on my own. Correction. I've been with Thom Grant. I groaned inwardly. I'd rather get lost in the woods alone instead of being with that idiot. The boy barely knows how to do anything, aside from shout orders. It was torture. It was like being back in the printing press, Mr. Will shouting endless orders at me. Work harder. Work faster. I groaned again. Until his death, Mr. Will hadn't paid me a single fair dime. Not that I tell this to Yule. There's no doubt she'd try to kill him for this. I guess an ordinary person could say I feel sorry for my boss.

I could feel a shift of weight near my right and I turned around, my knife ready in my hand. I was waiting for danger, something that threatened my existence. I was kind of right. It was Thom.

Thom raised his hands. "Whoa, calm down!"

I grudgingly put away my knife. It was barely stained. For the past days, I've only eaten four meals. The first is a handful of berries I had to share with Thom. We weren't sure if the berries were safe, and that's why until now, we still get stomach aches. The second meal is a small bird I found in a low-enough nest. It was only the size of my fist, and we still had to share it. The third meal is a secret meal I found while Thom's asleep: an apple. I finished it in a minute out of hunger. The fourth meal is basically a large gulp of water. We only found the pond five minutes ago, and until then, we barely drank anything and we're basically dying of thirst.

I turned back to the pond, hoping that fish might magically appear and we'd have a decent breakfast. But there was barely a ripple, or any sign there might be something to eat.

"I never thought I'd say this," said Thom, pulling out his knife, "but I think our chances of survival are higher with Hound. Now I kind of wish I got stuck with him."

Though I'd hare to admit it, Thom's got a point. With Lyall Hound, maybe we would have found the pond sooner. Instead of one apple, maybe I would've found a bunch of them. Maybe with Lyall Hound, I would be eating game right now.

Thom had just finished carving "THOM WAS HERE” on a tree trunk when I turned to look at him. "Got any ideas for breakfast?" I asked dryly. I knew he had none.

"Actually, I do have," he replied with a grin. Color me surprised.

"Remember the katniss that Hound got from the pond?" Thom asked. I nodded. Lyall had called them "pond potatoes".

"Maybe we could find some katniss here," said Thom, using the term he seemed to like more. He got on his knees and getting a stick, plunged his hands into the muddy water and began to dig around for pond potatoes.

"What?" he glared at my expression. "It's just like working in your printing press!"

"Yeah, what's the similarity?" I replied testily.

"You use your hands," Thom replied before he jerked his hand. "Hey! I think I got something!"

He pulled a handful of something from the water and he brushed off the mud with a stick, revealing a huge snail.

"Aaiii!" Thom tossed the snail off in surprise.

"Idiot," I muttered under my breath. "That could've been breakfast!"

"You eat snails?" Thom asked incredulously.

"It's tasty enough," I replied, remembering the time when I and Yule had snails for dinner. Originally, I expected the snails to taste terrible, but Yule has a sort of magic in the kitchen, and I swear, she could make anything edible good enough to eat, even for finnicky people. I'm even willing to bet she could make Thom Grant eat the snail. Then I suddenly wondered if I'd see Yule again. Somehow, I'm starting to miss her fussing and worrying and cooking.But I know she's safe. She's with Lyall Hound. Though I don't know the lad too much, I know he could keep my sister alive. He had saved Yule several times already.

There was a loud screech of some kind of bird, and the sound of flapping wings. It must be a dream. But I saw a falcon.

"Shiv!" Thom exclaimed, straightening up and throwing the stick away. He wiggled his arms and called the falcon's name. When he saw I wasn't moving, he yelled, "James, we're not going to get rescued if you just stand there useless!"

I frowned, then in a mild imitation of him, waved my hands and yelled "Shiv!" over and over. But the falcon didn't seem to see us, or is simply ignoring us. I thought that was weird. Sure, Shiv barely has a reason to bother about us, but she might've turned her head to look at us or something. Then I realized the falcon didn't seem to recognize us.

"I don't get it," said Thom. "It's like she can't see us! What's wrong with that bird?!"

"It's like she doesn't even recognize us," I said.

The falcon flew away, and I noticed that the tip of its tail is smeared in red. Huh. I don't remember Shiv having that. I met Thom's eyes, and he seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Then we heard the grinding of metal.

We didn't need to talk. We ran.

"How--did--they--find--us?!" Thom yelled between gasps, his long coat flapping behind him like some velvet-red tail.

"I don't know!" I yelled back. The pain was all over my body. My muscles ached to stop, not to mention the fact they were weak from hunger.

Thom accidentally tripped, but just before he fell on the ground, I grabbed his collar and pulled him back up. I heard the sound of machines behind me, and the yells of men. They were close. Too close.

I suddenly felt a strong, solid pain in my leg, and I felt weak. I collapsed.

I managed to turn my head and saw blood blooming from my pant leg. I groaned, realizing I was shot.

i heard the victorious cries of the war-bringers, and my eye only caught a sliver of light before Thom collapsed a few steps ahead of me, his leg deeply stained with blood that it seemed he had an accident with a bucket of paint.

The grinding of metal softened, and I saw with my blurry vision that armed men and women had surrounded us, expressions unreadable, even colder than Lyall Hound's. They pointed their firearms at us.

I don't know why their faces seemed so keen to kill us, but I could barely care. My and Thom's attention is on the man in front of us.

The exact short brown hair. The pale skin. The steely expression. The man looked exactly like Lyall Hound, except that this man wore a war-bringer uniform instead of a hunter's, had green eyes and had less scars but wrinkles underneath his eyes. But other than that...it's like seeing Lyall Hound switch sides and turn to the war-bringers. I noticed the badge the man wore. Inscribed on it is his name: PHILIP HOUND II. I realized this must a relative of Lyall's.

This could be his father, or even a brother.

If he had one. Philip Hound II whistled a two-note tune, and a falcon appeared, diving from the sky like an arrow and stopping at the last second to perch on his shoulder. I recognized the falcon. It was the one that I and Thom saw. The red-smeared tail confirmed my thought.

My vision was starting to spin. I began to lose consciousness. But I could still hear Philip's words with his comrades.

"Are you sure it's them?"

"Positive."

"They should lead us them."

Then everything loomed into darkness as I lost it.