TWENTY SIX -
I wake still cradled in Cato's arms. I'm irritated to find that he's also fallen asleep on watch, but the absence of torrential rain quickly lightens my mood. Though the ground is still damp, it seems the storm might have finally passed. I untangle myself from my still half-asleep District partner, pushing myself to my feet beneath the rocky outcrop. The woods surrounding our camp seem to be deserted, but I step out into the open with two knives at the ready. An ambush could be only metres away, waiting for us to wake up before they take a shot.
Once I'm convinced Katniss Everdeen isn't perched up a nearby tree, bow at the ready, I shake Cato awake and begin to gather our supplies. We chomp through the last of Sidonia's gifted meals as I shove everything back into our packs. Cato seems only able to communicate in grumbles, displeased at being woken up, but even he knows we can't afford to sit around and wait. The end of the rain signifies that our window to take out the last tributes begins now.
I don't want to waste even a minute of hunting time. There are three others left in the running, besides Cato and me – that's the same amount of kills as I must have made during the first hour. One of that number is weaponless, the other injured. Which means the only real remaining adversary is the girl on fire herself.
We leave the rocky outcrop and begin to make our way through the woods. The sun is bright above the canopy again, and I'm soon sweltering in my jacket. I ball it up and shove it into my pack to keep it safe, as its likely we'll face another freezing night later. The Gamemakers seem to be controlling the weather so that the days are boiling hot and the nights ice cold. The extremes aren't so bad that we're at risk of hypothermia, but the chill often spurs people to start fires at ridiculous times, which is an easy way to get killed. Like the girl from District 8 discovered on the first evening, when she found herself at the mercy of Cato's sword.
That night seems eons ago now, back when there were six of us roaming the woods together. Marvel's jokes and Glimmer's flowery giggles following us through the trees. The thought of her brings a tightness to my chest. In another life, far from Panem and the threat of the Hunger Games, we could've grown to be close friends.
But no, I must not allow myself to think like that. The Games will bring Cato and I glory. Glory and honour. They will send us home to 2 as a king and queen. It is what we've trained half our lives for, all we have ever wanted. Isn't it?
I'm still pondering the answer when Cato taps me on the shoulder, dispelling the strange thought from my mind. As I take in the sight of him, golden hair and icy blue eyes sparkling down at me, I'm suddenly ashamed I even considered any other life. Cato and I will go back to District 2 as victors. We will live across the street from each other, be able to go on dates together. We will mentor the pairs of tributes selected by District 2 in future Games. Perhaps we'll even become the Darius and Elena of our generation, the famed Career couple who won the 74th Hunger Games.
Suddenly aware that I've been presuming Cato and I will stay together long enough to marry, a blush begins to creep up my cheeks. Without Sabetha's heavy layers of makeup, I am abandoned to it's full mercy.
Cato eyes me curiously, smirk curling the corner of his lip. "You've gone red, what are you thinking about?"
"Nothing." I reply, far too quickly, internally cursing myself as he laughs and prods me in the rib, making me jump.
"That is not nothing, come on what is it?" He teases. I refuse to meet his eyes, wishing for some kind of distraction. And it comes, but not in the way I'd expected.
BOOM. The sound of a cannon rips across the arena, grounding the two of us to a halt. All thoughts of dating and marriage forgotten, I pull two knives from my vest. Cato draws his sword, but all either of us can hear is the rustling of the trees around us
"Who was it? Can you see the hovercraft?" Cato says, eyes darting around the forest.
I look up through the canopy, but there is nothing but a stretch of endless blue sky. No sign the fallen tribute disappearing from the arena. "No. I wonder who it is?" I say.
"Maybe Loverboy finally succumbed to his wounds." Cato suggests with glee.
I shake my head back at him. "I doubt it, that pack she got at the cornucopia definitely had medicine in it. I saw it, it was too small for anything else."
"Maybe it's her then? That'd be a spot of luck wouldn't it." Cato laughs, but I know we're both thinking the same. There is no way Katniss Everdeen is going down without one of our blades through her chest. No, that cannon was not for 12.
Sidonia was right about the girl from 5. A fox down to the core. Sly and cunning, Finch was easily one of the cleverest tributes in recent years. We can't be sure what took her out, but whatever it is brings the final fight down to exactly who I suspected. The 74th Hunger Games has just become battle of the couples. The girl on fire and the baker's son. The golden boy and his small but deadly shadow. Because that was what it was always going to come down to, in the end, ever since Claudius Templesmith announced that two victors could win the crown this year.
"And then there were four." I say, spinning the blade around my fingers. Cato and I exchange satisfied grins. This is the fight we've been waiting for.
The final showdown of the arena.
° ° ° ° °
We cover ground quickly as the sun begins to set, bleeding across the sky in a multitude of oranges and reds. The thought that the next one I see will be back in 2, watching from my new house in the Victor's Village with Cato and Loren by my side keeps me pressing forwards through the forest, even though my feet are beginning to ache in their boots. I'm suddenly longing for the soft moulded leather of my training boots at home, cracks embedded with brick dust. However much I moan about it, the absence of the sandy substance caked beneath my nails instantly reminds me of how much I miss the mountains. One more day. One more day.
The memory of them brings that old worker's song to mind again. The calming melody and opposingly morbid lyrics. People dispute the meaning of it constantly, but the one I like best is this. Sung from beyond the grave, it is a message from the spirit of a man fallen far from home, who longs to be laid to rest back in the mountains.
That's where we bury our family members, marking their graves with a stonecrafted memorial. Every family has one, with their name and some kind of symbol etched into the rock. At a funeral, the four strongest members of each family carry the casket up the rough paths carved through the mountains, whilst the rest of the procession sing the song at their backs.
The strange black and white birds are at it again, echoing the melody through the trees. There's something decidedly eerie about it that sends a shudder through my body. A song of death brought to life, joyous and cheerful. The sound follows us on our journey until night approaches. And then they fall abruptly silent.
It's as if a wave has passed over the forest – even the trees seem to be quieter, their rustling put on hold. My arm flies out to halt Cato in his tracks beside me, the other reaching into my vest to slowly edge one of the knives from its slot. I notice him about to speak and instantly place a finger to my lips, fixing him with a pointed stare. He exhales but doesn't move, and I'm grateful.
Because those birds didn't stop their incessant twittering for nothing. There's something out there.
I take a hesitant step forwards, palm held up to indicate Cato stay put. As the lighter of us, I have no problem moving across the undergrowth with minimal noise. My eyes scan the trees, desperately seeking out any trace of the other pair hiding above us, but there's nothing there.
Far off into the forest, the loud crack of a branch breaking spurs me into action. My head whips around, gaze darting through the mass of dark woods for the source of the sound. I'm drawing another two knives into my hands when the loud rustling starts, coupled with a resurgence of birdsong. No, not song – cries. Cries of terror.
Something big and heavy is rippling through the leaves towards us, something far too big to be a tribute. My heart drops into my stomach.
"Run."
AUTHOR'S NOTE -
HERE WE GO!!!!!!! Almost at the end guys! The final showdown is here!!!!!! :') I'm so excited for you to see this ending. It's a big one, and I'm so proud of the story I've come up with for the following two books in this series. This was only a short chapter to get us into this final moment of the Games, but I hope you still enjoyed it anyway :) also 4 FRICKEN K thank you so much!!!! Much love - Vee xx