Alice curses as somehow, both of her knives miss. It’s not worth another shot. Forest, tall and slim – she’s forgotten what his face looks like – is bobbing up and down on the rough ground and she’s only got two knives left. She’s missed her chance with him, unless she wants to run out and charge him down...
...which she doesn’t want to do because Garth and Faraday have appeared on the other path, not fifteen feet from where she’s crouched. Garth spots Forest and races off in his direction; Faraday stands there, holding up the sword awkwardly. He doesn’t look like he wants to be here, but do any of them?
Forest continues to run, head down, thinking only of grabbing some food and running away. No more knives pepper the air around him; why not? He looks up just in time to see a big, white-clad figure with crazy eyes lurch around the pile.
He ducks, swinging wildly with his trusty axe. He hasn’t had to fight before and although his size is an advantage defensively, the lack of food and the harsh climb has sapped a lot of his strength. The blow doesn’t get anywhere near Garth, who jabs out with the spear.
Forest sees it coming and twists to one side; the spear handle brushes his ribcage but other than that it doesn’t connect. No time to think about how lucky that was, and he takes another wild swing with the axe. His arm jars painfully as it collides with the floor, bouncing back up. Garth, startled by Forest’s plucky resistance, tries to swing the spear around so that he can’t dodge it.
Desperately, Forest shoves the axe in the way, blocking it. His feet scuttle on the ground but so do Garth’s. It’s practically a miracle that both boys are remaining upright.
Only seconds since Alice threw the first knife, and already Forest and Garth are locked in battle.
Faraday watches, torn between running to help Garth and running away. He shouldn’t help Garth; they’re enemies now. It was stupid to want to come here, essentially running into the lion’s den. It looks like Garth is on the offensive, but every single one of his shots is blocked by the thick axe. He’s too far away to see the expressions on their faces, but he can hear each boy grunting with the effort and the knock of wood on metal.
A noise behind him makes him turn around and he only just sees the flash of metal in time to throw himself behind a boulder. Alice. And that was too close; his breathing comes sharp. Oh hell. He shouldn’t be here. What kind of idiot volunteers for this? Little Christian had better be grateful...
He can hear Garth and Forest, still fighting, but doesn’t dare to look around. If Alice is moving she’s doing it quietly and he presses himself as close to the cold boulder as he can, just in case that somehow helps. She could come from any side, and he’s ready to throw himself at her with everything he has.
“Sorry, Hulk,” he whispers. The boy in the picture, the love of Alice’s so far short life. See, he remembered the name this time. Will the others be apologising to Callie? Or are they only thinking about keeping themselves alive, like he really should be?
The boulder tips forwards slightly, nearly crushing him. He rolls out of the way, knocking his shoulder on a particularly sharp rock, and leaps to his feet; Alice is closer than he’d expected and by the look of it was pushing on the boulder. Her face is gritted with the effort.
Garth and Forest are at deadlock, matching each other blow for blow, neither one able to land a hit.
A fierce roar spreads across the whole of the arena, shaking the rocks under the tributes’ feet.
Agatha has arrived.
Alice spots a creature soar over the ledge and land in the middle of the plateau with a thud. It looks like a goat, except she’s prepared to bet that it isn’t a normal eat-your-shoes kind of goat. This goat looks like it will probably eat you. It glares around at all four warring tributes as if deciding which one looks tastiest. She can smell it from here, blood and Capitol. Not a good combination.
Faraday is struck dumb, frozen in his spot. She should take advantage of that, but she doesn’t dare to move. One slight twitch could attract the goat’s attention and it’s probably not fussy.
The wind whistles over the scene.
Agatha stands proudly, looking from one meal to another. She will have to choose. She can smell the fear on all of them.
Forest, the only one to have seen the goat before, is shaking badly. He doesn’t know where he keeps finding the strength to keep Garth at bay, but every time the guy swings at him, he can always get the axe in the way.
He takes in air as quickly as he can and just hopes that his good luck will continue and the goat will go for someone else.
With the atmosphere so tense that a pin drop would make all the tributes jump, the seconds tick over into minutes.
Every single person in Panem is watching, expect for a woman giving birth in Three and those being held by the Peacekeepers in Eight, Nine, Ten and Eleven (there are thirty four in total). Even the Peacekeepers themselves are glued to the screens, knowing that the outcome here could mean everything.
Inside the District Five Justice Building, little Tara, thumb in mouth, reaches for Callie’s hand. Ma Wilson watches stonily, ready to turn Tara away should the need arise. When the need arises. She can’t even let herself hope... Callie holds Tara’s little fist in one hand and the lightning bolt cufflink in her other, pressing it nervously to her lips.
In the square in District Seven, everybody stands straight and proud and tense. Forest’s family are stood together in a cluster towards the front, while those around them stand ready for support, should it be needed. The boys from his reaping are fiddling nervously with buttons, good luck tokens, zips. Phoebe stands alone in the back of the square, hidden from view, hardly daring to look at the screen. She never got the chance to say how much she liked him. She would give anything for it now.
The orchards are burnt. The people of District Eleven have nothing to lose except their own lives. So few people have screens at home that they have had to be set up every so often, and everybody who is not under Peacekeeper arrest crowds under one. Mutters flash through the crowds; this is our moment. They are expecting nothing. Garth’s family, tall and blonde in the centre of the crowd, watch their boy proudly. Whether he lives or dies, there will be a reaction here. It is what he would want.
In District Twelve, everything is subdued. Alice could win. But she could lose. They seem to know, on instinct, that in the next hour everything will be resolved. Hulk clutches his locket in his hands, just hoping. Just like everyone else. Alice’s family, her little sisters, sit inside like they have done since the reaping. She has done better than anybody expected, but all of a sudden it is little consolation. They want their little girl home.
Panem is still.
Garth stabs Forest through the stomach and runs. Before the boy from District Seven has even hit the floor, Agatha is bounding after his killer. The cannon is lost in the thundering of hooves. Garth stutters to a halt, cursing as he realises that he’s run himself into a dead end. The edge of the plateau looms, and an icy drop down the mountain he’s spent so long climbing spins in front of him. He will have to fight the goat.
Alice recovers from the shock first, hurling her penultimate knife at the stunned Faraday, frustrated when he ducks yet again, and now she’s only down to her last knife. His dark eyes are wide and terrified as he scrambles to his feet, the sword clutched in front of him like a shield. He doesn’t look like himself, he looks half-wild. Though she supposes that she does as well. This is no time to judge looks.
Past Forest’s body she can see Garth, cornered on the edge by the goat, glaring at it. She can almost feel the force of that glare from over here. He isn’t scared. Idiot.
But she’s distracted, and the next second a glint of metal turns her attention towards Faraday, who is aiming a stab at her ribs. She gasps, taken by surprise, and hurls herself out of the way. She would have thought that he would pause, falter. But it seems not.
Look what the arena has done to them all.
Faraday almost drops the heavy sword, amazed at his own willingness to kill Alice. Her whole face seems round and surprised and her grey eyes are tinged with a kind of desperation. He can’t allow himself to think of her as a tribute, just something in the way. And this time he is at risk. If he doesn’t kill her, she will certainly kill him.
This is the crucial piece of knowledge, the motivation. As she takes aim, he thrusts the sword for her stomach. She dodges out of the way, though the metal catches on her jumpsuit and tears a hole in it, exposing her side to the bracing wind. She gasps as it hits her hard, the full force of the cold they have been living with for the last week, and grits her teeth, feeling her knife find flesh.
Faraday cries aloud as the blade tears into his arm, slicing a cut near the elbow. Cold rushes in on top of the heat; he has never even imagined pain like it. Is this what he did to Ford?
The scream makes Alice’s hair stand on end, as if it wasn’t already from the cold. Was Dayn in this kind of pain for those seconds when his eyes locked on to hers? It’s not even a fatal wound; she’s seen the Games enough to know that. She can’t let herself feel remorse. This is what she has to do to live. Now she has to finish it...
Garth is still glaring up at Agatha like he can stare her down. Her cold, beady eyes stare back, her wolf’s teeth jutting out of her mouth.
Forest’s body lies forgotten.
“I’m sorry!” Faraday exclaims in a rush of air, just as she throws the knife. It puts her off; the knife sails well over her shoulder and now she’s unarmed and he’s got a sword. The cold is like an injury in itself, weakening her with every blast of wind. But he is injured too...
She throws herself behind a rock before he can get a blow in. It might be the same one he hid behind earlier. She can feel the jagged rocks pressing into her side as if they are from a long way away, like her body and her mind are separating.
Faraday hadn’t meant to startle her; he’d only wanted her to know that he is genuinely sorry for trying to kill her. He knows that she is sorry too. She glares up at him from behind the boulder, her eyes sad. She’s all out of knives. He knows that she would have killed him, that the knife that lies on the floor behind him would have stuck in his heart, if he hadn’t spoken.
Can he actually kill her?
Agatha shuffles; she’s getting ready to leap. Garth has nowhere to go. But he does know what to do, sort of. It just relies on timing, never his strong point. He crouches, getting ready, and brandishes the spear threateningly. Next to the goat the spear, stolen from the Careers, looks pathetic, a little stick with a metal point on the end. Even the goat’s hairs seem sharp.
He can hear a scuffle but doesn’t dare to look away from Agatha’s cold eyes.
If this goes wrong, he can’t guarantee a quick and painless death. The Capitol will laugh to see him tortured and in pain. If that happens, he’ll have to sort that out himself. He will do it, he’s sure he will...
A cannon goes off.
Agatha lunges.
Garth ducks.
Agatha’s claws, still stained with Louis’ blood, dig into his back but he pushes himself forwards, rolling away from the edge, as the goat tumbles over, crashing head over heels down the icy slope.
He’s done it, and there’s only one person left. He barely feels the fierce wind tearing into his back or the blood seeping from the wound.
Just one more person. Staggering slightly with pain, he peers over towards the far side of the new bloodbath, over Forest’s now dry body.
A shape stands there, covered in blood. From here he can’t tell who it is. He takes a few steps closer, until he can see the stunned expression on the tribute’s face.
Faraday.