Promises of a Sacrificial Lamb |Destiel x The Hunger Games|

-31-

And so the agonizing waiting game commences.

It's too quiet.  The only things I can hear are my own shallow breaths, my rapidly pounding heart, the occasional rumble of muffled thunder.  Cas practically cuts off the circulation in my hand as he squeezes it, but I hardly notice.  I tighten my grip on the hilt of my sword and scrutinize the clearing as best as I can, but it looks abandoned, like no one has set foot in here since the feast.  Surely we can't have been the first to arrive.  That outcrop was miles away.  Where's our competition?

A flicker of hope sparks in my chest at the thought of District 2 getting caught in the storm.  Maybe, if we're lucky, they didn't outrun it.  Maybe any second now, we'll hear an overhead announcement stating we've won.  Maybe there won't be an epic battle like the Gamemakers seemed to so carefully plan, because maybe the Careers weren't as fast as they'd anticipated.  That would be the day, wouldn't it?

The air is still.  The longer we stand here in complete silence, just waiting for something to happen, my anxiety only skyrockets further.  This doesn't feel right.  The clearing is far too quiet, far too motionless.  There's not even a chirping bird to break the uncomfortable hush.  We can't be the only tributes here.  Too many minutes have passed.  Although, I can't quite figure out what's more unnerving: banking on the hope that our competition didn't survive the storm, or knowing that they're hiding somewhere in this clearing with us.

Then I spot it.  It's nothing but a small flicker of movement to my right, near the mouth of the Cornucopia, but I notice it just in time to jerk my head out of the way.  The arrow embeds itself in the bark right beside my ear.

It's one of those moments where I'm too paralyzed with terror to even let out a yelp.  I hear Cas' clear as day, but the amount of dread that surges through me renders me totally impotent.  My head whips around to the mouth of the Cornucopia, where the movement came from.  There, I see the smaller of the two boys from District 2—though he still must be at least twice my size—standing with a sleek black bow and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulders.

He's pulling the string back again, and it's loaded with another sharp arrow.

That must be what snaps me out of my panic-stricken trance.  I shout for Cas to duck and just manage to do so myself before the arrow whizzes right over us, striking a tree on the far end of the clearing.  What are we supposed to do now?  The Career has the ranged weapon.  He's just going to keep shooting at us, and we can't dodge it forever.  Or even if we somehow do, his partner will surely step in next.

But the nauseating fear pouring through my veins suddenly stops when I watch the boy's last arrow slip from his grasp and clatter to the ground.  He dropped his only ammunition.  He fumbles to pick it up but can't quite seem to get a grip on it.  He's distracted, and currently weaponless.  A window of opportunity has just opened up before my very eyes.  I'm absolutely petrified to take it, but the consequences will be far worse if I don't.  Deep down, I know that.

At least, that's what I tell myself as I let go of Cas' hand and take off toward the inattentive Career.  "Stay here!"  I call to my district partner.  It's difficult to ignore his cries of protest, but I keep running, and I don't look back.  It's now or never.

I've just passed the mouth of the Cornucopia, my gaze locked on my target, when the massive weight slams into my side and tackles me to the hard ground.  The force of the impact knocks all the air out of my lungs, makes my sword fall from my grasp.  I hear it clanging against the rocks and out of reach.  When my eyes finally focus and I can breathe again, I see the other boy from District 2—the much larger and bulkier one—towering over me, sitting on top of me, pressing his knees into my ribs so powerfully that I'm afraid he's going to break them.