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May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor	By : CJ_Wallace Category: G through L > The Hunger Games Trilogy Views: 12259 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games Trilogy and make no money off the posting of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter Twelve
The explosion is indeed messy, and loud, covering the gong. Tributes further away hear it and start running, and seeing them, I rush forward as well, though my ears are ringing. I look back and find my orange had done it's job, landing perfectly in front of Charon's platform. I also see her bloody remains and return my focus on the Cornucopia. I avoid the fighting that has broken out, dodging around people with weapons and running until I spot a useful dagger sticking out of the ground. I snatch it up and look around for the closest tribute, but the fighting has ended already.
Some tributes are scattering, running for the edges of the field, some are lying bloody, but few are still left fighting. I see Jet with a short sword in his hand, shoving it into the small body of Mallow from District Twelve. Amia has a spear in the throat of Florence who is every bit as frightened as the doe she wore, screaming silently. Bos is walking away from the body of Daniel Volta, whose head is crushed and bloody under the yawning Panther's maw. Cairn is twisting a knife in Switch’s stomach while behind her, Ray was pounding his spear into Tessla over and over again. Cairn gets another kill when she throws her bloody knife at a retreating dark figure. The badger head slips off and it's young Berry who falls. He's is the last tribute in sight, and the bloodbath is quickly over.
The others head for the Cornucopia, but I take the time to go around to all the dead tributes, relieving them of their cloaks and picking up items and weapons I find useful. I don't go back to Charon. I let that one go with a wistful smile towards the smoldering earth for the cameras to see.
As I contemplate going up the hill, I drop to one knee slowly and bow my head. "We give thanks for the kills that keep us alive," I say slowly, hoping Sid is getting worried. I swore I'd do this. Everyone deserved it. "We give thanks to the Capitol who keeps us safe, and offer these lives as tribute."
I stand, hold my treasures close to my chest and streak up the hill, leaving the battlefield behind. When the bodies are gone, we'll comb the field more carefully and store everything, but now... Now is the time for planning.
I bring back the furs to the top of the hill. Other member of the pack see the cloaks, but they turn their heads. Amia is obviously disgusted as she tears off her Panther head and throws it at me. Ray seems proud of his Lion cloak and refuses to part with it, stroking it with a motion that looks almost thoughtless, though I know it is not.
"Take it," Amia says carelessly, digging for clothes in a crate. "You seems to have quite a collection."
I thank her, appearing honest, but she ignores me in favor of a sky-blue sundress. I have hidden the spyglass, compass and several other things in the furs, and I dump them near some crates to begin looking for weapons.
We all go through the crates silently, taking what we can grab, bartering over what has been claimed and soon we're geared up. Many of the tributes have pulled clothes on over their furs, but I don't worry about these things just yet. Even though we were all thrown in barely clad, the furs marked us all as animals. Nothing more than slaughter.
The Pack consists of Jet and I, Cairn and Brock, Amia and Ray, Bos, and somehow Rye had managed to weasel his way in as well. I don't see Jewel, but I expect her later. How much later is a mystery, if ever.
Looking through the pile of weapons, I've found a bow and a quiver of arrows, and I take them quickly. Even though I'm not thrilled about using them, my father had impressed that they had saved his life countless times and they’re good for hunting. I'd want them before anyone else. If someone was going to be hunting, it'd be me.
I also arm myself with several small knives, which I shove into the fur leg-guards. The katana I'm lucky enough to find is claimed in an instant, a little faster than Rye. I look at him warningly, and he chooses a slightly shorter, broader sword instead. I take the treasures over to my pile, sort them out and then go looking for clothes. In the flood of clothing I find a large green square of cloth which I fold into a triangle and tie around my waist as a skirt, deciding that's good enough for now. Besides, I don’t want to appear greedy…
We keep our things separate, and I sit by mine, shifting the knives into a holder. I'm watching Rye carefully, and when he sees me looking, he grins and tips his matching fox head to me. I glower at him, and clutch my precious sword to me closer. If he stole from me again, I'd take his hand; help or no help.
We all gather presently. I'm getting some looks from Brock, who had been close enough to see me off the first tribute. There had been some talk about it then. Sure enough, I'm soon addressed by the short girl.
"What happened out there?" Cairn demands, looking at me, asserting herself as the leader finally.
"I saw my chance, and I took it," I say with a shrug. The game has started, and now I was in the mindset to play to perfection. I knew she would take this approach, her personality practically screamed it.
"How did you get anything in here?" Ray marvels. "You're not supposed to have anything other than your token."
I grin at him and grab my breasts, fondling them. "Natural pockets," I say with a wink.
"It was clever," Cairn begrudgingly admits, although she's seething at my behavior. I was guessing she had secretly recruited Charon to be in the group, though I suppose she could have felt threatened by my sexiness. She's interrupted by the blasts of cannons ringing out for the fallen. Hovercrafts swoop around to pick up the dead. They spend quite a bit of time near the pedestals cleaning up the first dead. We watch them lazily, then when they're gone, we return to the subject at hand.
"Now's the real question," I say, slowly looking out over the plain. I make like I'm looking for straggling tributes, but I use the time to think of my next move. "What should we do now?"
"We should make this our camp," Cairn says, as if it's obvious.
I nod, still looking across the grassy plain. "Good idea," I murmur, though I don't agree. I see some of the boys shrug like they don't care, but I can see some of them are itching to make some sort of move. Bos and Rye in particular.
Jet, however, has other plans. He's dressed as a wolf and looking at it only makes me giggle. It was as if someone had heard our witty exchange at the elevator last night, or just maybe he has a wolfish look to him. "I think some of us should go out and scout the area," Jet says firmly. "And if you'll excuse the situation, I volunteer."
I snort, then laugh, biting my lip and struggling to stop when Cairn shoots me a dirty look. It hadn't been that funny, but under the circumstances, and the knowledge I had, I loved the turn this was taking. Also, humor is a great way to defuse tension. "Sorry, being volunteers, we find that funny. Besides, I'm a sucker for puns."
Jet smiles, but looks back to Cairn, waiting for her to answer.
This angers me and I wonder why he's addressing her. If he wants to leave, he could go. Why did Cairn have to be okay with it? Why was he treating her like she could boss him around? Even still, my anger never reaches my face, and I focus on my pile of goodies instead. If Jet had a plan, I wouldn’t be the one to give it away.
"The ocean's nearby, or a body of salty water," Ray says suddenly. "I've smelled it on the wind, so it's not far. Amia and I could go with Jet to find it. Where's there is sea water, Amia and I are most skilled. We'll be able to fish and gather items to send back to camp. You never know what'll wash up on a beach!"
Cairn is suddenly flustered, but she cools herself quickly. She snaps at them that she doesn't care if they go or not, but Jet should come back before dark with what they had found, if anything at all. She storms off muttering how she hadn't smelled anything and calling them crazy.
I hadn’t smelled anything either, but having never smelled the ocean, I wouldn’t know. They are either desperate to get away from her, or they're clinging to hope and they took an opportunity. Either way, they quickly gather nets and spears, gear that they'll need for a two day trip.
I busy myself with my pile, but Jet seeks me out. I ignore him, but watch his feet as I hide my compass behind me.
"Don't do anything stupid," he says, watching me stroking the cloaks I had taken from the dead.
I had sorted them in order of the tributes killed; Mallow's rabbit, Florence’s Doe, Daniel's Panther, Switch's Cow, Tessla's deer and Berry's badger. I stared down at Amia's Panther cloak, then messed up my organized pile and sort them by animal until Jet kneels by me. "What do you want, Jet?" I ask sharply.
"I'm not coming back," he whispers. "So until we next meet, don't let anyone else get you."
"Want to kill me yourself then?" I ask, standing and putting my hands on my hips. "That's how it works Jet. Either you kill me or someone else does, because if they don't kill me, and you don't kill me, I win.
"I couldn't think of anyone else worthy enough to kill you than me," Jet says proudly, standing as well. "Just stay calm and I'll send you a present later." He hesitates, then pushes back my fox hood, kissing my forehead in front of everyone. "Time to shine brilliantly, like the star you are."
I'm shocked, but say nothing as he walks away, pulling my hood back over my face and scowling.
They take few supplies, but they set off towards what appears to be South. North of us, the mountains are visible, and I can see trees far off in the East as I turn. As for what lay west... we couldn't see and we weren't interested, no one had gone that way.
I don't watch him leave, even though I want to. Instead I ask Rye for some help, despite my discomfort at his refusal to put pants on. He happily sorts out the useful items with me in his furs, which we stored in the Cornucopia under direction of Cairn, from the useless things, which we had fun flinging down the hill and making explosion noises until we collapse into giggles. We're just a fox and a vixen having fun, which disgusts our badger overlord.
When everything was sorted, food and weapons along the sides and clothes in back, we rest and enjoy the sunshine. I sing the song my stylists had taught me when I was being prepped while I reorganize the fruit, keeping the apples near the front away from the rest. I have had much experience with apples, and know that they would be the first to go bad, and once they did, everything else would as well.
As we sit there, I wait until Cairn is out of earshot before leaning close to Rye. "What do you think of her?"
"She's bossy, but what woman isn't?" Rye drawls.
"She's trying to be a leader," I say venomously, keeping my eyes peeled for her. "Aside from Amia and Ray, she's the youngest one in the Pack."
"I figure, keep your head low, and you won't have it cut from your shoulders," Rye says, sighing as if he really wishes he wasn't having this conversation. "However, I won't be taking her orders much longer, I expect. You have your own plans?"
I shrug. "Maybe. Can't say when I'll put it in motion, but sooner is better than later. I want to know I have the support of the collective before I decide anything."
"Do you want to put yourself in her place?" he asked, looking over.
"No," I say quickly. "I'm not a leader, not really. I want to eliminate the need for a leader altogether. I just don’t like her. I know Bos doesn't care who's in charge, and Brock doesn't like her. I'm not taking orders from a pipsqueak... You're the only other person that matters. If Ray and Amia have a problem, they can go back to their beach."
He shrugs. "Do what you think you have to."
The sun is low in the sky when I make my move. When everyone is busy, I draw my bow and slowly nock an arrow. By time she sees me, I'm pointing it straight at her a couple feet off. I can't miss at this range, and I'm willing to release if she even attempts to move towards a weapon without having my say.
Cairn puts her hands on her hips and stares at me angrily, as if she doesn't believe me. "What do you think you're doing?" she demands.
I watch her carefully with both eyes, the tip she had given me to help improve my aim. "I'm preventing the well from being poisoned," I say cryptically. "You thought you could control this group, but you were wrong. We don't like taking orders from a snot-nosed kid when we're older, stronger and so much smarter. Now I'm giving you a choice. You can die, right here, right now; or you can flee, keep your miserable life, and hide before we come and find you. I can already tell you're trouble and if we let you stick around, you'll kill us all in one night. If I'm wrong, somebody speak now and let me know."
I want to look around badly, but I refuse to take my eyes of Cairn and the silence was answer enough. "This Pack needs no leader. You've done your part to bring us together, now let me do my part and give you one night to run.
When no one steps up to save her, she looks uncertain. She looks helplessly to the strong boys watching, pointing at me. "Well? Are you going to get her Brock?" Her eyes grow wide when he doesn't move more than a shake of his head, a motion I see only out of the corner of my eye.
"I've never liked you," he says. "This girl knows more."
Rye snorts.
My arm is beginning to hurt and ache, but I hold firm. The pain was evident on her face, and I guessed she had taken Brock's silence for agreement rather than plication. "The choice is yours, Cairn Slate. Live, or die. If you want to live, go now."
"I'll leave," she says slowly, putting up her hands. "But when I find you again, Nara, you're dead."
"I'll take that under advisement," I say, motioning her to move with a jerk of my head. I let her get halfway down the hill before I fire the arrow and watch her drop, tumbling until she rests at the bottom. When I lower my bow and look to the rest of the pack, they're stunned and shocked, but they say nothing.
I leave them to retrieve Cairn's cloak and weapons before her cannon sounds, and find her still breathing and crying softly. I rip out my arrow which I clean in the grass before sticking it back in my quiver. I ignore her screams and struggles under my foot. Drawing out a small knife, I kneel on top of her.
"You said you'd let me go," she whimpers, spitting blood in my face.
I let the gesture go, wiping it out of my eyes. "You said you'd kill me," I snarl back, leaning close to her. "That's a threat, Cairn. I don't let people threaten me and run away. Jet will get his, but you won't live long enough to watch," I say. I feel her move before she actually does, giving me time to catch the arm that swings toward me, jerking back out of the way. It has a small knife that she had tried to jam into my throat, and I take it from her, pinning both her arms under my knees. I look at it, then to her menacingly. "That was an attack..." Sliding the sharp blade into her throat, I unclasp her cloak and pull it off before it gets too bloody. I swing my leg off her and get to my feet, backing away, eyes fixed on her.
Her hands fumble with the blade, but when they find the slick handle, they grasp and wrench, twisting as she pulled. When she pulls it out, the blood gushes out in a flood and she wheezes, her hateful eyes on me. Blood spills from her mouth and she's afraid, unable to breathe. She throws the knife feebly, and it bounces on the ground at my feet.
"I know you don't understand," I say, lifting up her cloak in my bloody hands. "But Capitol willing... your sacrifice will be accepted as tribute. I thank you." I don't know if she hears or understands what I'm saying. As she falls back and fades, I back away until she stops moving. I'm walking up the hill when a small, but long, white box floated out of the sky. It practically landed in my arms, and I looked down at it in surprise. When I return, box hugged to me, Brock's waiting and we all hear her cannon.
"Very clever," he says, looking a lot calmer.
I throw my new cloak with the others and clean my hands and face off. Luckily, very little of her blood has gotten on me, and what has, I can live with.
"Getting the competition out of the way early, are we?" Rye asks, eyeing my box. He doesn't touch it, but he's interested. When I come over, he gives me a grin and raises his eyebrows at the change.
I shrug, drying my damp hands on my skirt. "I have to pull my own weight. To keep up with guys like you, I have to work extra hard." Kneeling, I use a knife to cut the twine, lifting the top off the strange box. Was this the gift Jet said he'd send? I doubted it, it had come down like a sponsor gift. Inside, I find block of wood with no seams and slightly smaller. I stare at it, frowning impatiently and lift it out.
It's a beautifully sanded chunk of wood decorated with burnings of trees, flowers, and things that make me feel nine again. I had seen a box like this before... My father and mother each had one, decorated differently, but it was the same. They said they were treasure chests that held their most valuable possessions. They never opened them in front of me, but after their deaths, before I sold the most valuable of my things, I managed to open both. When I saw what was inside, I buried them deep in Chiara's yard under the guest house. No one knew they were there, and if I died here, they never would. No one would ever know anything, even Chiara.
I turn it over, I hear something clunking inside. "It's a puzzle box," I say in a soft tone, looking at it in wonder. I began to push at it in places, poking at odd swirls in the design.
"What's a puzzle box?" Rye asks, watching me. He has no interest in a chunk of wood with flowers on it.
I ignore him and push at corners. When I try to twist the whole box, Rye laughs and shakes his head, but I continue. Eventually I find it, a small hole in the center of the rose that is easily pressed with the point of my dagger, and the top of the box pops out of its hidden fitting. "Oh you clever little thing..." I say, speaking to Sid without mentioning him. Inside lies my coat, and I give a joyful cry of recognition, ripping it out quickly. Sid had promised to get it back, and he had, just after Cairn's death.
I had done something to send this, but what exactly I was unsure. It warms my back as I slip it on and clasp it shut. Reaching into the inside pocket above my left hip, I pull out my wooden needles. Rye sees them and looks at me in shock. I feel my wedge comfort my leg with a tap in a lower pocket, and feel other packages tucked into various areas. They'll stay hidden until I had a private place to take them out and examine them. "Well, my mentor obviously thinks I'm doing well enough to return my coat."
"You have friends in high places," Brock says, reaching back into the box and drawing out a beautiful dagger lying on the emerald velvet that lined the box. He pulls it from the sheath under my frigid gaze, and examines the blade, then taps it off the metal. "This is obsidian!" he exclaimed. "And it looks old, antique... This is a rich gift, and best delivered in the beginning for sure. It's in great shape, and sharper than anything we have around here." Shaking his head, he hands it to me, as well as the sheathe. "I wouldn't use it against a sword, it's too weak for that, but it's great for slicing flesh," he says after it's in my hands again.
The handle is pure silver and bound in black leather for a grip. A rich gift, indeed. Looking the black blade over, I pause then look up. "Thanks," I say to Brock, meaning it. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Why is it so rich?" Rye asks, looking at it. "It's just a little dagger."
"The blade is made of volcanic glass," Brock says, looking at the boy. "The rocks that melt in the magma, and what is absorbed in the lava flow, then allowed to cool. When it's chipped away and polished and honed, it can make a blade much sharper than regular glass. This dagger was probably made from the last volcanic eruption in the islands, before they went under."
Sid must have really liked my actions. "No one liked her," I say quietly, sheathing the dagger and tucking it where I had hidden the needles. "I couldn't have her running off and coming back with new pawns. She said she'd kill me, I said I'd think on that. I thought she'd be better off dead. Turns out, I was right. This gift proves it."
"You should be in charge," Rye says, eyeing me critically. "The big man's right, you've got a head for it."
I laugh and shake my head. "I meant it, The Pack doesn't need a leader. We know what we have to do, and we'll get it done. If we need a leader, how about you? You could direct those who need it just as well as myself."
He looks at me as if he's unsure whether I'm lying, or if I'm insane. "Whatever."
I shrug and look out over the field, sliding my box shut again. "The Arena is ours to do what we like with it. We don't need permission to leave or come back, we can just go."
I'm left in the camp with Bos the Bull, who made himself scarce, followed by Brock the Bear, who watched him closely. Rye helps me set up a fire pit and converses with me until the sun goes down, helping me with various things, such as setting up the sleeping area where we keep our things in the back of the Cornucopia.
"Rye, I need to know that you will not steal while here. We have to have some form of rational and sensibility..."
"Don't worry about your things, Nara," he says lightly, though the tone of his voice is mocking. "I won't steal here if you insist, but if I kill you, your things become mine, right?"
I give him a wary look and nod. I don’t like how he’s said my name; it sounded too much like Jet. "I suppose so. Do I have something you fancy so much that bargaining has lost appeal?"
"Well..." he says slowly, appearing occupied and distant. "Nothing of value. However, there are things I could take that would make me very unpopular around here," he says this with a wink, looking me over openly.
I flush and look away, scowling. "You wouldn't dare."
"No," he agrees, solemn now. "I wouldn't. I bet I wouldn't have to."
I scowl and still my hand that's clenching into a fist. "Drop dead, Rye."
We're startled by a canon in the South. I jump and my arm knocks against a crate, sending a shooting pain up into my shoulder.
"That was the way the fish tributes went with Jet," Rye says thoughtfully, then he regards me with concern. "Are you alright?"
It hadn't been us, and that was what mattered most, I think rubbing my elbow. I walk to the mouth and gaze out, looking when Brock pointed Southwest. My heart leaps, but I still it and try not to think that it may be Jet who was jumped and killed. And if it was him... then I didn't have to kill him. I would have to reward Amia and Ray when they returned. If they came back.
Leaving the rest of the work to Rye, I move towards the fire and almost sit in the pit to feel the warmth, my coat swept behind me. When Rye joins me, he brings a blanket which he drapes over me without a word. We watch the clouds as the last rays of sunshine finally vanish behind a hazy cloud and I don't dare to wonder aloud who will be coming back.
It becomes clear after it is dark that they won't be returning anytime soon. I start preparing food for us to eat, shocked to find not one of them knows how to cook; so I take it upon myself to feed them something more than raw fruit and dried meat. I use a knife to cut some fresh meat that was wrapped in paper into strips and set about making skewers of meat, chunks of potato, and some carrots, which I roast over (and sometimes in) the fire. Boiling a little water, I make a sort of soup, finishing as the anthem starts playing and lights flash across the sky attracting our attention.
The soup is thin and watery, but hot, and we devour it hungrily as we gaze up. The night is a little cooler, but the fire keeps us warm enough and we look up to see who we won't have to worry about anymore.
The first face to flash across the sky is Cairn's with her District underneath. Jet is safe, I think with a silent and grateful smile. Switch and Tessla, the tributes from Three, I had seen on the field, but it's Ray's face that flashes next and I hang my head. Jet had found his out and used Ray to do it. It was sad, but Amia was still alive, and probably heading right here, if she didn't get caught. Daniel was next, followed by Charon, whom I giggled over, hoping that back home, Flash had gotten her message. Florence’s face smiles on the sky, but not Hodden's, telling me he had managed to escape. I see little Berry and Mallow before the lights go out. The poor mute girl from District Twelve...
I shake my head. Ray's dead. I don't know what to do next. I hadn't expected Jet to disappear so quickly, but it was for the best. He had his plans, I had mine. Brock agreed to take first watch with me, and I can't say anything in my grief. Ray hadn't deserved to die like this, and all I could hope was that it was clean and quick.
I stay out with Brock and we stay up speaking softly.
"I'm glad Cairn's dead," he mutters, gazing up at the sky. "Your sponsors obviously agree. That's a handsome reward for one death."
"I don't know, perhaps there's a message behind it," I say, looking up with him. "Like... with her gone, the Pack is fixed."
He grunts and starts telling me about the shapes he sees in the sky, and the stories behind them. I can't see the shapes, but the stories are entertaining and pass the time. Unwilling to sleep so close to Bos, I rest my head on Brock's arm and rest as well as I can.
It's late when a figure comes walking across the plain and I'm alerted by Brock's gentle shake. I follow his finger sleepily, but force myself awake. Rye is out and drawing his sword when I stop him, shaking my head. I raise my arm, waving my hand at the figure. It begins to run and in minutes is climbing the hill. "You made it," I say as the blonde looks around nervously.
"Is this it?" Jewel asks, crossing her arms.
I shake my head and retrieve the bow and quiver from my stash, handing them to her. "Well, Ray and Amia took Jet to look for a beach they thought they smelled. Because of this, Ray is dead, Amia missing, and Jet's long gone. I have no idea how Bos and Rye got into the group, but they're strong and our numbers have been cut, so they stay. Brock..." I look at the taller boy who had only greeted Jewel with a raised hand, and had given her an apple that she’d already half eaten, and some leftover soup that was cold. "Well, he got me into the Pack, so I guess he's like my right-hand man."
The comment makes him smile, and I'm again surprised how kind he looks. "You're the last one to arrive. I see you ran and came back when the smoke cleared, just as I asked."
"And Cairn?" she asks, still glancing around. "I saw her... well, it was announced. What happened to her?"
"Ah... well, Cairn was my kill," I say, forcing the word into the open. I noticed her hesitance, and knew I'd need to force it from her mind. "I found her a less than suitable leader and dispatched her." I smile, winking at Brock. He doesn't seem bothered at all, but he doesn't stay to hear the rest of our conversation, going to lay down. I tell Rye I'll take watch with Jewel, and he returns to the metal structure as well.
"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" Jewel asked as we sat near the fire and takes the water bottle I offer.
"Very much my plan," I say proudly, throwing another small log on. "I wanted her dead from our first day in training, and knew she was gullible enough to trust me for at least a few hours. That's the problem with being useful..."
Jewel doesn't say what we're both thinking, and I'm glad for it. I don't want to think about killing the girl when we had just become friends. She looks fantastic in her pelt that almost matches Jet's, though I can see the slight differences. I have no clue what animal she is, but she looks so cold that I retrieve her a blanket.
"It's dark in there, but you can find some suitable clothes in the morning," I say. She sleeps as I take watch, the moon high in the sky, her head in my lap. I stroke her hair and hum a tune I remember hearing once. It's slow and sweet, and I try and think where I've heard it.
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