11 | INFLAME
If it wasn't for the pumping adrenaline and the strong winds that pushed the water up onto Greyson's plate, she would have thought she was standing next to Finnick. He reminded her of the sea. She stood as straight as could be, trying not to let anymore tears fall freely down her cheeks. Greyson heard the Capitol's favorite announcer, Claudius Templesmith, his voice booming around the entire arena. His calm voice rattled her bones. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!"
They had to wait sixty seconds until they were allowed to move from their plate. Sixty seconds before the killing began. And if you stepped off that plate your legs were blown off by land mines. Greyson saw the Cornucopia in the distance, sitting at the center of the large body of water, and the disappointing thing was that all she saw was pointless weapons. Nothing there would help her stay alive.
She took in the people beside her. Strangers she never had the pleasure of meeting before stood on either side of her. One of them was an older man, maybe in his late forties. The other a dark skinned woman who Greyson recognized as Seeder, a friend of Haymitch. Seeder looked down at the water with a fierce confidence that made Greyson square her shoulders and lean forward, ready to dive into the water.
She was practically born in water. From the moment she could walk she was swimming. In her days at school one of their required classes was on how to swim and the basics of cardiopulmonary resuscitation; or for short, CPR. Some of the Victors have never gotten the privilege of learning how to swim. Some of them, Greyson didn't doubt, were going to drown.
Someone then caught her eye. He stood about two tributes away on her left and it didn't take long for him to notice Greyson as well. He took in her shaken state and flashed her a concerned glance, shifting his feet to get into a similar position she was in.
Five seconds were left on the clock. Five seconds until the Victors that were holding hands last night were going to be slashing each other's throats open. Greyson knew that she didn't have a choice, but she didn't want to be one of those people. Too many people had died because of the Hunger Games.
And the gong went out, sending her into full survival mode. The one intact thing about her.
Greyson sucked in a large breath of air and plunged into the water. She tried opening her eyes only to be met with stinging salt water. Lucky for her, she was used to the feeling and only had to close her eyes every few seconds. She paddled against the waves that threatened to pull her under, just hoping that there wasn't any sharks in the water below her.
Greyson dragged herself up onto a strip of rocks, ignoring the sharp pain of them digging into her skin, and hauled herself over. She took a glance in front of her to see the District 6 man running towards the Cornucopia. If he got there first and saw her, he would have the advantage of blocking her from getting away. She also needed to find Katniss and Peeta, two people that she hadn't seen so far. And Finnick, a small voice reminded her.
She pushed herself to stand up on the rocks, immediately noticing how slippery they were and began running with a delicate foot until her feet hit the base of the Cornucopia. She scanned the bounty of weapons just to see a black bow and two quivers of arrows sitting next to a similar set of silver ones. Greyson slung the black quiver over her shoulder and grabbed the bow. She was about to turn around but was abruptly slammed into the ground, the impact causing the wind to be knocked out of her lungs.
The man from District 6 hovered over her with a serrated knife, his clean cut beard sharp against his pale skin. A flashback of Brutus doing something similar crossed her mind briefly.
Greyson fought him as he tried to bring the knife down to her chest and grab hold of his hand, preventing him from moving any further. He was much stronger than her from his experience, but it seemed she didn't have to worry anymore. Three silver tips poked out from his chest, blood beginning to flow from the wounds and onto her face and neck. The force on his knife relaxed and she could tell he was already dead, the light gone from his eyes.
Greyson was pulled up from the ground to meet Finnick gripping his trident, something she didn't doubt Plutarch made specifically for him. He looked wild. His bronze curls were wet against his forehead from the swim over, his skin was already splattered with blood, and his pulse was racing underneath her touch. "Thanks," she breathed out, her voice raspy from the recent crying.
He nodded, his sharp eyes surveying the playing field. "Anytime, Grey."
A few feet away from them Greyson saw Katniss grab the silver bow and arrows, taking them graciously. Finnick pushed her behind him protectively the second Katniss' eyes landed on them. Her back straightened and her form became rigidly cold. No wonder she was the symbol of the rebellion, she could look deadly and vicious in a matter of seconds.
Finnick raised his arm slightly, a gold bangle shimmering in the light of the artificial sun. This caused her to advert her eyes to his wrist. She looked back up at him with a void emotion, maybe distrust. "Good thing we're allies, right?" He asked.
Greyson remembered what she told Katniss before her interview, and Katniss must have been thinking the same thing as she looked over at Greyson. She gave her a small, anxious smile. "Where did you get that?" Katniss asked, looking back to Finnick.
"Where do you think?" There was a split second of realization on her face, but Finnick noticed movement behind her and Greyson could tell he was about to throw his trident. "Duck." Katniss did as said and stayed in a crouched position until she heard the trident sinking into it's victim. Finnick walked over to her and pulled it out of the man's chest. "Don't trust One and Two. I'll take this side, you hold them off." While passing Greyson, he grabbed her arm, tugging her along with him.
Alright then, she thought.
She notched an arrow into her bow and raised it as a warning to others. She glanced over at Katniss to see her looking for someone. Peeta. "Finnick," Greyson muttered. He looked at her. "Peeta."
"I'll go find Peeta," He said to Katniss who shot an arrow at a tribute, already moving onto one of the strips to search for him.
From the corner of Greyson's eye she caught sight of two tributes struggling in the water, one of them undoubtedly having Peeta's dirty blonde locks. "I've found him, over by that platform." She pointed them out, moving across the rocks as she saw the other tribute attack Peeta with his fists.
Finnick took charge and dove into the water, making Greyson want to yell at him for being such an idiot. But then she remembered that they agreed to protect Peeta and secondly, that Finnick was as stubborn as a mule.
Greyson stood beside Katniss on the rocks, her eyes carefully watching as Finnick fell underneath the waves with Peeta and the other tribute. It was silent all around the two girls as a cannon boomed, a body floating to the surface. Greyson felt frozen in place as there was no movement in the water.
"F – " She was about to cry for the second time that day, but then she saw Finnick carrying Peeta over to them with one arm underneath his shoulders.
Greyson glanced back at the Cornucopia to see the Careers grouping together, instinctively noticing that Gloss was shot by an arrow, Katniss' arrow. His calf bled red. Greyson wanted to tease them but found herself trailing after Katniss and over to where Finnick was. Katniss embraced Peeta while Greyson strode over to a once again sopping wet Finnick.
Without flinching, Greyson punched him in the shoulder as hard as she could, ignoring the pained face he made at her. "God, you could've gotten yourself killed! You're such an idiot sometimes!"
He rolled his eyes and tugged her along the beach with him, running into the tree line. "Katniss," he called. "We need to leave. Now." She complied without a word, and soon all of them were sprinting into the jungle with their weapons by their side.
Everything around them was green, hot, and humid. Greyson felt like she was going through a heat wave that would occasionally happen back in Four. Sweat rolled down her skin easily enough like a warm summer rain and her lips were already beginning to feel dry and pinched of moisture. The running did little to quench her growing thirst of water, the glass she drank before entering the arena was near to nonexistent in her system now.
They ran for another minute until they were consumed by the lush plant life. "Okay, hold up, hold up!" Finnick panted heavily, crouching down to the dirt packed ground to catch his breath. Greyson did the same, focusing on her breathing patterns. Exhale, inhale. She dared to close her eyes to watch moving pictures of Selene's brutal death. They didn't even spare her any last words. Shot in the head.
"God, it's hot. We gotta find fresh water." Peeta broke her horrid thoughts, thankfully causing her to open her eyes and look at him. Greyson felt bad for him. He was inflicted by the Hunger Games as well, with him having to get his leg amputated and replaced with plastic. No wonder he couldn't swim that well.
The ring of three cannons going off remind her that last night was just a small act of rebellion. Three more dead because of what? The urge to live? Greyson shook her head as she heard Finnick give out a low chuckle. "Well, I guess they're not holding hands anymore."
Katniss glared at him while Greyson tensed up. "You think that's funny?" She asked in utter disbelief.
"Every time that cannon goes off, its music to my ears. I don't care about any of them." He said, the grin leaving his face in seconds. Greyson placed a warning hand on his knee, and he barely moved.
Katniss unsheathed her machete and clasped it in both hands, wielding it with care. "Good to know."
"Wanna face the career pack alone? What would Haymitch say?" He was testing her to see if she would dare to make a move, because Greyson knew that if she tried anything he wouldn't hesitate to drive his trident into her chest, Mockingjay or not. But another part of her thought that it was for Snow. To make him think Finnick and Greyson weren't helping out Katniss and Peeta because she was the face of the rebellion.
"Haymitch isn't here," she shifted on her feet.
Greyson shared a fleeting glance with Peeta and he understood completely. At least someone does. "Let's keep moving," he shuffled between them and began to walk ahead.
Greyson stood up as well and fell behind Peeta and Katniss, her bow notched with an arrow in case anyone crossed them. She reached out to Finnick and grabbed his hand, his tremors not going unnoticed. He looked at her through glazed eyes and parted lips, trying to think of anything to say. Greyson balanced up onto the tips of her toes and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, not knowing what else to do in a situation like that. She ignored the fervent flicker of passion and infatuation that burned in her stomach, and surpassed her capability to comprehend just how much he actually made her feel something.
She looked him straight in the eyes, not caring who heard or who was watching. She couldn't care any less if Snow heard. No, She hoped he did. Because he was the man that kept her from Finnick all these years and tormented her with her own thoughts and nightmares.
"We are going to get through this," She began to say, "you and me until the end."
Finnick nodded, pressing his lips tightly together to form a thin line. She wanted to kiss it away, but didn't after some thought.
Their moment was gone as quick as it came the moment Greyson heard Katniss shout a piercing, heart wrenching, "Peeta, no!"
She gasped as she saw him fly backwards, knocking all of them to the jungle floor. The once clear wall a few feet away rippled back into place, indicating one thing that was evident from the singed holes in Peeta's outfit – he hit the force field.