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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
- 11
- 12
OOC: First off, I would like to apologize for the lack of posting! I'm getting to the end of chapters that are completed, and honestly, I've been working so hard on homework, giving my baby everything he needs, I have a new job, and I just.... forgot! If I hadn't gotten a review 9which showed up in my email) I would have gona a long time without posting! So I spent an entire night of editing and fine-tooth combing of my next chapter to make it perfect for you. Yes, I might have gotten a bit frustrated before, but I assure you I value every reader! I wasn't holding out because I felt neglected. I'm not that petty! I just plain forgot! So I apologize and I thank my Anon reviewer profusely for bringing me back. Tomorrow, I have taken off the whole day because I want to write more. I've been meaning to, I just haven't had the heart to tell my friends off. I have work to do still, and my baby won't take no for an answer, but I promise, I will work on the half-done chapter I have sitting on my flash drive, or die trying!!!! I already have an idea of where everything is going, it's just a matter of putting it all together. Here's 30 pages people... enjoy.

Chapter Thirteen
Amia came in the middle of the night, stealing across the plain like a shadow. When she reaches the hill, she collapsed in tears, holding a nearly empty bag. As Jewel and I help her to the fire, Rye joins us at the sound, followed by Brock.
Her story is what I had expected. They had found the beach about quarter-day's walk to the Southwest. They had time to do a little fishing and swimming before nightfall, Jet having already gone back with the information. They hadn't expected his attack, never saw or heard him. One minute they're collecting shells and talking, the next... Jet pops out of nowhere and cuts Ray to ribbons with that sword of his.
Amia tells us between fresh sobs she barely had time to grab the game bag before running off, but she had left the spears. She finishes by saying that as she was leaving; she looked back, after the cannon sounded. She admitted the foolishness with gulping hesitance, but frantically impressed she wanted to know if he was following. A box had fallen from the sky on a parachute in the distance, and he reached out for it, not even bothering to look in her direction.
It can only be the coat that Jade had taken, and my suspicions of them being a sign of good work is confirmed. I wonder what Jade gave him with that coat. I wonder if his weapon is meant to kill me, as mine is made for him. We were officially pitted against each other, and our mentors had helped keep that line drawn in the sand.
The realization washes over me and I feel weak, glad to be sitting. Amia had seen Jet receive his gift for his kill; Brock and Rye had seen what I had received. "I never expected this," I say quietly, even though it's a half-lie. "He said he'd go off on his own eventually... but I didn't think he'd kill us to do it."
No one says anything, but they all look at me. I look back helplessly, then sigh. "Fine. From the facts gathered, it's clear he doesn't want our protection. If we find him, we will kill him like any other tribute. Life for a life, right? He killed Ray, so his life is Amia's, if she wants it."
Amia shakes her head, trembling. "I can't fight him, I'm the smallest girl tribute left! I was hoping Cairn would kill him!"
I shake my head, raising my hands to stop her. "Honey," I say soothingly, shushing her. "Cairn would have killed you before she killed Jet. He was a very high ranking piece in her game, you were a pawn, to be spared at leisure. Ray too, I imagine. I assume she figured Jet would kill you and send Ray back. They obviously had a plot between them, only it was cut off when I killed her."
Brock agreed. "That girl was crafty. If anyone is going to take blame for Cairn's death, it's going to be me."
I nod. "Brock tipped me off that Cairn had it out for me in particular, sure, but I killed her so she didn't come back and kill us all. She wanted to kill me, and she'd bring back friends to help take down Brock, and why stop there? She might have spared you, Amia; you weren't here. Yet, if you had stayed with us while she plotted, and we let you... When she came back, she might as well kill you for siding with her enemy. You knew all her secrets, and yet you didn't run away. Some might call that treason..."
My eyes are cold as Amia's face went pale. She knew Cairn had threatened to kill me, she hadn't said anything. No, she had hidden behind Cairn's skirts like some child. It takes me a moment to realize she is still a child, and I feel guilty at my silent admonishment. "I remember the look on her face when I forced the blade into her neck. She had accepted death as one should. Silently, despite the gurgling of choking on her blood of course, and resentfully. She wanted to become a Peacekeeper, she had the aim to kill, with everyone watching her. You better believe she had a plan like that or better, and she'd have it quickly. Given time, it would only develop into something I didn't want to deal with, and even with help might lose me valuable people as well. The Arena is safer for us now, and still as deadly for the others."
The others murmur their agreement, all except Rye who says nothing.
"So... hunt down Jet," Amia says. "Hunt him down and kill him! You can do it, he trusts you!"
I stare at her as if she's a stupid fish. She certainly looks like a stupid fish, so it’s incredibly easy. "He's threatened my life the next time we meet, and he sealed that promise with a kiss! You wish me to go to my death, child?"
"He killed Ray!" Her frantic pleas return as she rushes towards me. She grips my blanket and tugs it as she talks rapidly. "You didn't see! He played with him, with me! Then he focused on Ray and just let me run! Like he didn't even care if I got away or not. He was rewarded for it!"
"Amia, calm yourself!" I say, letting go of the blanket, letting her stumble back. I shiver as the cold air washes over my bare arms as the blanket is torn away. "Now is the time to stay calm," I say intensely. "He won't dare come back here. I'm here, Brock's here, Bos is here, Rye..." I had been looking to each of them, but found Rye missing among us. He had just been beside me! "Well, Rye seems to have run off."
"They were close, those two," Brock grunts, looking across the field for any sign of movement. "There's nothing on the plain, he didn't go to the beach."
"Are you going to kill Jet or not?" Amia asks, her voice is different, insistent and angry. "I give my kill to you. You can have it!"
"Why should I accept a gift like that?" The words come out, but it takes a second before I'm shocked to my core. I take a step back and raise a hand to my mouth.
"It's not a gift..." she says, watching me and growing very concerned. "Are you alright?"
"Jet..." I say. "Oh you bad bad wolf..." I laugh and dash to the edge of the hill. Cupping my hands, I let out a howl. It was loud and throaty, full of pain and anger. I scream at him to tell him how angry I am, and to thank him. He wouldn’t hear it, not at the distance Amia described… but it felt good all the same. "He told me he'd send me a gift!" I tell them, whirling and crossing my arms.
"I don't understand either," Brock says, frowning with Jewel. "Do you two have something between you that we should know about?"
"It's too long to explain," I say, but under his stern eyes I sigh. "Before the interviews he told me I looked almost harmless, and I poked that even a wolf dressed in fancy clothes would be revealed if you looked at his teeth. I've also informed him that no one gets something for nothing. I've been teaching him reciprocity, and he's learning his lesson. Only now, he's found his advantage and played it."
"Do you always speak in riddles?" Amia snaps angrily.
Jewel touches Amia’s shoulder gently. "I'm here because I wanted protection. Chise wanted archery lessons. It was an exchange we had..."
"Brock told me Cairn was aiming to kill me, and Jewel confirmed it," I said, looking at Amia hard. "So I killed her. Charon boasted she could hide the entire game and I killed her too. Sometimes things are random; sometimes they are for a good purpose. Ray was unfortunate, but he was a message sent with a gift. You, Amia. Jet bought his safety to the beach by killing Ray, a gift to Cairn. For not killing him, he sent me you. You're welcome."
Amia's blue eyes widen and she crumples to her knees, pulling my blanket around her. There are many things swirling around in her mind, and I can see them. None touch the problem, the real one, and it's her posture that hints at it. "If that's true, you owe me," Amia said, though it sounded like a question.
"Yes," I say wearily. "And so I am forced to do anything you ask, including kill Jet. However, I was already planning to do that. That’s why I howled… I’m thankful. I didn’t want you to kill him." I say it as if I believe she had a chance. I know she wouldn’t last two seconds.
"So you will kill him?" Amia asks, hopeful and perfectly naive.
I nod, feeling the sharp twist in my stomach, but I push it away. "Maybe not tomorrow, or the next day, but he will die at my hand. No other person would be able to kill him." I can tell this disappoints her, but she nods.
Jewel takes the girl to lay down, and stays with her. A quick search of the hill proves Rye has left the camp, even the field is empty in all directions. I am left to deduce that he was part of Jet's plan, just like Jewel was part of mine, and that Jet would soon know where we were and how many were with us. He'd also know that I called for his blood. He wouldn't know the pain this caused, as well as the thoughts that whirled around in my mind. He would never know how hurt I am. No one would ever know. I would appear a monster before I would admit that losing him would affect me in any way.
What I think borders on treason, but for a second I contemplate how my suicide would be accepted by the people. I have the best chance of making it, I have ingenuity, I have skill and the lineage, the allies... the only thing I didn't have was sponsors. Jet and Jade may be able to spend some of their own money, but without people in my home district, I am out of luck. I need money; I need people back home to believe in me. I need to give thought to my past, to remind them why we fight.
Our plan, however disorganized, is going perfectly, although I'm uncertain about Jet. The Pack has already been divided, and tomorrow we'd force Bos to leave or kill him too. We had started with eight, and were down to four. That is a good pack number, rounded off at least. This, however, is going to be tricky. It may be impressive enough to run Bos off, but not killing him would turn my district against me, and towards Jet. However, killing him while he slept was not my idea of an awe-inspiring act. It wasn’t honorable, and even thinking about it makes me sick.
As I sit and watch the nothingness on the plain, the slow rise and fall of the moon, feeling the gentle wind tussling my hair, I'm busy thinking. I look barely alert, and at times, distracted. However, I see everything. I see my next move and know what needs to be done.
Brock wakes Bos and tells him to keep watch while we sleep, I'm on the receiving end of the greeting grunt, and smile weakly. We don't trust him, but he lumbers about setting up the new fire efficiently. In this moment, I'm not afraid.
"You're helpful, thank you Bos."
The look I receive shocks me. Anger and malice, mixed with sympathy. "You have decided to kill your partner."
It isn't a question, and I refuse to treat it as such. "Bos... He decided to kill me first. As soon as his brother's name was chosen, I was dead in his mind. Everyone thinks to save themselves. You better accept quickly that Sierra will not save you. As Jet promised to kill me, I must honor his request, his gift."
"A person is not a gift," he growls softly. "A person cannot be a gift, because a person is not a thing."
I feel my heart go out to him; in this moment, we are one person. His words can mean so many things, and yet I feel beyond the face of them. "Jet will not understand as you do, Bos," I say quietly.
"Do not think you know how he is, little one," Bos murmurs, poking at the fire with a stick, staring at it cruelly. "You know him as I know you. If you don't accept this fact, that boy will kill you."
This gives me chills, and I wish him a pleasant watch. Joining Brock at the mouth of the Cornucopia, I stand closer to him than I normally would. "I want to know," I say, shivering and clutching my coat. "Please, tell me what Jet told you about me."
The silence is heavy between us, but one of his arms wraps around me. I think for a moment he won't tell me, or put up a fight, for the sake of Honor, probably. But his lips purse and what he says silences me. "He told me your secret; at least, he said it was a secret. He told me what you what you agreed to, when you win."
I'm terrified, more scared than I had ever been in my life. The Capitol may not know what was said beyond those doors, or they pretend so sweetly that they don't know, but I knew my agreement. After a few minutes, I whisper my response. "I may have only said it to save my life. How do you know I didn't trick him?"
"Someone who is as selfless as you," he started, hesitating after the last word. “You’re not the type, Chise.” His hand squeezes my shoulder, then withdraws.
I hang on his words, unable to say anything. Until I knew exactly what Jet told them, I refuse to admit even the slightest thing. My throat is so constricted I can barely swallow. I wonder if Brock will be the one to kill me. A sharp blade, this hesitance... that's all it would take.
"He said you swore to build a statue to everyone, and to show everyone that the Hunger Games is dear to some. He said you understand why we do this, and you will show all of Panem their destiny."
I lean against the cool metal of the Cornucopia and cross my arms, sinking to my bottom after a moment. My arms hold my knees, my forehead rested on them for a few seconds before I look back up. He doesn’t understand my relief, but I smile regardless. "You know the oldest creature, the stone beneath our feet. The only thing that lives forever, and knows everything."
He says nothing, but he looks down with such understanding, I can't help but continue. "Brock, you feel the surface of reality, every day. You know the hardness of every gem, the toughness of every stone, and the weakness of every rock. Are people so different?"
"People are different," he says, crossing his thick arms. "People kill."
"Rocks kill," I argue, irritable and tired.
"Rocks kill," he agreed, "but only with a human's hand behind it. A rock in your hand would be deadly indeed."
I giggle, and regret the action, but unable to take it back, I rest my head on my arms. In a couple hours Jewel wakes me. The sun is barely up, but I shake my head and snap into action, thinking I am needed. I'm stretching when she gives me the bad news.
"Amia disappeared," Jewel informs me, leaning against the Cornucopia and crossing her arms. She had found a pair of brown slacks in her size, a tan shirt with long sleeves under an orange shirt that had its sleeves ripped off. I think she looked cute again, and her posture shifts, a sword swinging at her hip. "There hasn't been a cannon, and I was sleeping... but at some point she got up and left." Her amber eyes are suspicious, looking over her shoulder where Bos is lying in the sleeping area catching up on his lost sleep, but she keeps her concerns to herself.
Seeing the boy sleeping deeply, I am content. "There's nothing we can do about it now, she's gone and not any of my concern. Our concern now is Bos," I say, lowering my voice. He hadn't stirred, but there was no doubt that if he was awake, he'd hear us. I touch one finger to my lips, then rise and wrap a blanket around me. As I walk in the cold air of the arena, I motion for her to follow. "We should all pick up and get out of here as fast as we can," I say in a low voice. "The further he is from us, the better. Everyone wants him gone, as useful as he is..."
"Even still," Jewel insists, looking out across the plain. "I think I should go look for her, scout ahead. If I tell her the big man is gone, she might come back. It might take most of all day, so you and Brock will have time to drive him off or leave yourselves and catch up."
"I like the sound of that," I say, nodding and returning inside the Cornucopia for food. Bos hasn't moved, not even a centimeter. "Brock and I could leave while he sleeps, we could get a head start before he comes after us." The last is said for the benefit for him, in case these words should come true.
"He might have seen where Amia went if he was really keeping watch, and I bet he was. He gives me the hebee-jeebes."
"The what?" I ask, chuckling and reaching for a soft apple to chew on, gathering my thoughts and walking out towards the fire.
"The hebee-jeebes. The prickle on the back of your neck, the cold sweats." Her eyes are sharp, cruel, and feral. I understand in an instant. She is just as scared as I had been, as much as I still was. "You've seen his pig eyes, I saw you run from him." Her eyes glow in the firelight where she has crouched for the warmth, and it is this view of her that makes me apprehensive. "He's already a killer, and he's killed bigger things than us. You have Brock, I have you, Amia has no one. She'll die out there."
I am hesitant to let her go. "It's not safe for you to be alone out there..."
"I'd be alone out there if it weren't for you," she points out. "I told her last night that she was safe here. I tried to calm her down, but she was very upset about Cairn's death. She tried to tell me that you'd kill us all, just like you killed Cairn. I told her I was under your protection, that you were keeping us safe."
"I'm trying!" I insist. "It's an easier job of being a protector than a leader. We all are smart enough or strong enough to keep ourselves alive; we don't need someone telling us how to do it."
"Exactly." Her eyes sparkle as she stands and crosses the short distance from the fire pit to where I'm standing. "I'll be fine out there; I think I have an idea of where she went."
Too late I realize what I had said, and in the end I just nod. I want to tell her to stay with me, that she'd be safer with us. I want to say I didn't care about that Amia girl, she could die for all I care, but that sounds heartless. Amia is useful, and I had already stated anyone could leave whenever. If Amia could run off, Jewel can leave just as easily.
"She's weak, you know," I say as she gathers her things. I see she has a small bag ready and know my words won't change her mind. "She'll be picked off quickly, and she'll slow us down.” She isn’t listening anymore. “Just... keep your guard up and keep your eyes open."
The quiver is already slung across her back under her bag, as well as the bow I had given her, and a short sword strapped to her waist. She has a water canteen, food, a few extra knives, and I urge her to take a blanket, just in case. When she's finished, she gives me a hesitant look, then hugs me unexpectedly. "Don't let him get you."
I wrap my arms around her just as tight, whisper for her to be safe, then I watch her streak away across the grass heading North. I look at the closest mountain, and the taller ones beyond it that loomed ominously, hoping my gut is wrong. I wait until she is beyond my sight before I build the fire back up and wake Brock. I put a finger to my lips, look at Bos, who is snoring loudly, then beckon with a crook of my finger. Outside, I hand him an apple while I talk quietly.
"Amia ran off, Jewel went to try and find her. We can get our stuff and follow, or we can stay and drive him off. I want to find Jewel again, but if we leave too soon, there's no telling what he'll do here, or anyone else for that matter. I want to keep this as a base, but we can't stay here all the time."
He finishes the apple in five bites, with very careful chewing. "Leaving him alone is a bad idea," he agrees. "We'll stay until he wakes."
He has never said much, but when he did speak, it always had merit. "Alright," I say nonchalantly. "Jewel should reach the mountains by nightfall; it'll give her a good head start.”
"What is this girl to you?" Brock asks, throwing the apple core down the hill.
I watch it, remembering the fun I’d had the day before with Rye. In regards to Brock, I'd never thought he'd question anything. It was almost comforting that he had. "She's my archery instructor, my consultant, a kindred spirit...” I answer, speaking without much thought. “She's a friend, sort of like you. You were the first one to talk to me, aside from Jet; I'm the only one who has spoken to her. She has strength, she's useful, and she's kind. I had hoped to ally with Jet, but he's a lone wolf, and he's just as vicious as I am."
"You don't want that boy anywhere near you," Brock growls. "I don't care what your morals are, I don't care what promises or vows you've made, and I don't even care about Amia! Promise me you'll stay away from him, Chise."
I like the way he said my name and I smile, hugging his arm. "I have no intention of letting him walk away from our next encounter, if there is one. I'll stay away from him, but if he comes after me, I'll kill him, okay?"
He smiles and ruffles my hair. "You have no clue what kind of things he says, what he thinks. Cairn wanted me to watch him, but he turns my stomach. He likes to play with you. You're not a toy."
"I'm much smarter than him," I say, trying to end the conversation. "If Jet had plans to break my heart, he's going to have to try harder because my heart is made of stone... if there's one there at all."
Brock's hand on my shoulder is encouraging, and I let him rest it there as we watch the sun rise. I know he knows I’m lying, but I don’t care.
When the sun had risen, I leave him to start boiling water before tossing the clams from Amia’s game bag. As they cook, I sort out the rest of the bag. I find shells they had collected, and put them in a small bag to give to Amia when we find her. I'm convinced she'll want them.
Bos drags himself out of the Cornucopia as the smell of food drifts through the camp. He sees me plucking the spines from the strange sea animal and grunts, looking angry. "I want to hunt," he says gruffly.
"Food or people?" I ask, looking up casually trying to keep a smile. "We have food, if you're hungry."
He doesn't answer. He looks to where Brock is watching and his lips curl.
I sigh and hopping off the crate I'm perched on. "Bos, there is no leader here. If you want to hunt, go hunt. We may even go for a while. However, I want this to be a safe zone. Anyone here is a friend, is that clear? Amia and Jewel left and may come back. They're Pack now, they're with us."
He processes this, staring at me harshly, then slowly nods.
I smile and wave my hand towards the plain. "The Arena is yours, you can kill anyone out there, just not here."
His eyes glitter and he finds a huge hammer with a long reach, seemingly made for him. He walks off, and while his gait is slow, it's menacing. I feel bad for the tribute that crosses his path, and pray to the Capitol it’s not Jewel.
He heads East, and I let out a sigh of relief. If he was going to find people to kill, Jewel is North and out of his reach. As to whether or not he killed here, I wouldn't know until too late.
"You want this place to be a depot?" Brock asks, curious. "Anyone can take what they want?"
"Well..." I say slowly, uneasy. "I don't like the idea of having all this food and not sharing it. Starving to death is a slow and stupid death. If they're going to die, they deserve better than that, and to be fair, so does the Capitol. I don't like the idea of them having weapons anymore than the next tribute, but killing an unarmed kid isn't my style."
"You killed Cairn."
"I killed her with her own knife Brock," I say, eyeing him, annoyed. It is too early for this. "There's a difference. Besides, it's not like we can keep watch on this place at all times..."
"I could stay," Brock suggests. "I'll keep the weaker, scared tributes away, and I'll be able to watch the rest of the careers if they come back."
I bite my lip and go against my better judgment. I finally allow myself a selfish moment. "What if I want you to come with me? We might need your help."
Brock bows his head and stares at the ground for several minutes, then he nods. "I'll come then. If we make it back, I stay. You're going to have to find your own way without me after, but as long as Bos is alive, I'll keep you safe."
A wave of relief washes over me and I hold myself, rubbing my bare arms. The morning air is cool, but I have a feeling before this is over, this chill will be the least of my concerns. "Thanks. Go ready yourself... we're going hunting."
Twenty minutes later we're ready and leaving, our fire put out. I've packed my box with important things I want to keep hidden, but the cloaks don't fit. I put them in my sidebag, along with some jerky, apples and a blanket, my box carefully tucked in another bag I keep on my back. We leave the Cornucopia for someone to find a moment of rest, a beacon of hope if they need it. It's the kindest thing we can do for the people we have to kill.
"Which way?" Brock asks at the bottom of the hill. He's carrying all the water, a small bag of his things, but no weapon. He's dressed all in black under his bear cloak that he seems proud of. Black is a bad shade to wear in the sun, or in any but he seems careless to this fact.
"The mountains," I say firmly, hitching up my back bag and gripping the strap tightly. "Jewel went that way, and... well, I don't usually put much stock in dreams, but I think we need to go that way first. Leave the forest and the beach for later."
The walk across the plain is long and bare. We hear no birds or animals, nor do we see a tribute. It seems everyone had decided it was too open to stay in. They had all fled to areas surrounding it to hide. The forest is smart, with the chance of a small river or stream of fresh water. We can see the entrance to the forest, and a small figure in the distance walking towards us. The blue sundress is easy to identify.
We wait until she catches up, running swiftly across the grass. "What are you guys doing?!" she exclaims.
"We're moving," I say, giving her a stern look. "Why did you run off? We looked everywhere for you, and Jewel went to find you. Bos went hunting in this area not too long ago! He could have found you."
The girl crosses her arms stubbornly. "I didn't like Bos, and to be fair, I'm not sure about you either. Jewel... she's nice, and I'm sorry I worried her, I just couldn't be there. I needed to get away."
I see she still has a net and a spear, but no pack. "Well, you're with us now. The mountains have the best protection, and Jewel's already that way anyway, so we'll just continue on until we find her. Then we’ll head back."
As the mountain draw nearer and the sun starts its decent, I try to keep simple conversation about things I loved to do back home.
I tell them about the garden Chise's parents let me have for a couple of years, which I had failed miserably at cultivating. The only thing I had managed to grow was a mess of weed flowers, but I liked it. They were beautiful and soft, and I used to lay there in the summer on hot days and the dirt would cool me off.
Brock talks about his sculptures and how he dreams of opening his own studio and finally quit the quarry. It's good, hard work, and he enjoys it, he just doesn't want to do it forever. The monotony of it bores him, where as carving is different with each strike. He has a passion and it's easy to see, which makes it hurt to listen.
Amia tells us the beach was almost as beautiful as the one back home, and they had seen all sorts of marine life, though they took very little. She tells me that there's no telling what kind of fish lay in deeper waters. It’s only after she reveals that Ray and her were going to check before he died, that she grows quiet.
The sun is low when we reach the base of the mountains and we haven't heard a cannon all day, which is nice. However, at nightfall we were graced with the nation's anthem and found myself humming along as we rest at the bottom and stretch our sore legs. We hadn't stopped all day, not wanting to stop in the open, despite the fact that we were pretty much sitting ducks anyway. We kept our eyes peeled, and when resting we sat back to back and faced opposite directions. We drank and chewed slowly on strips of jerky, we start up the rocky trail after a short discussion. I want to wait at the bottom, but Brock quietly insists that he has a bad feeling about the area.
"I feel strong in the mountains," Brock says as we press on. He patently ignores my sullen and discontented drag, but as we had been moving at his large stride the whole way, he walked slower with me. "I don't know if it's because of my District, or because of my family, or even if it's just me, but rock makes me feel tougher. Being surrounded by it is like being home. It's half the reason I came with you. To see home before that bloody plain claims my cloak too."
I admire his light-hearted attitude and patience with my glowering and snappish comments on our long journey. He is just as hard as the rock he was named for. "Names hold value Brock. Your last name, Flint, is your surname. It's what ties you to this world that we live in. Yours has made you strong and nicely polished, sort of like how a shellfish can compress and worry at a grain of sand trapped in their shell and form a pearl."
That snaps Amia out of her trance and she gives me a beautiful smile. "It's true... In our District, it's a great honor to be named after the sea and its creatures. My mother had wanted to name me Pearl actually. However, she had named my brother, so my father got to name me. Amia means ‘beloved’. I was his favorite..." And then she slid back into her mind.
"And your name?" Brock asks when I don’t comment.
I'm surprised. No one has ever asked me about my name before. It wasn't an interest generally, and the people who needed no explanation had no questions. "My name is in a very old language,” I say slowly, trying to figure out how to explain. “My family came from across a great sea before the Fallout, or so the old legends say. We became nations of Panem before it was Panem, and we're members of the same family, despite the culture, traditions, and myths that people can't seem to forget."
"You didn't answer my question. You're good at that, avoiding a straight answer." Brock is patient, and his voice level, but it is evident that he is discontented.
I hold up my finger and grin at him. "I'm getting to the point, it needs explanation. It's said our people used to write in pictures that held a special meaning, and it became a language to us. We gave these pictures names and wove them into words, and in that way the first Ancient learned to speak. They taught others, and eventually it was just known. My name is in that language."
"And does your last name tie you to this world as well? Nara... what does that mean?"
"It was a place once, if you believe the legends. Whether or not it's out there still, or ever was, we cling to these things, these words, and turn them to names. We remember through whispers of stories, and they shape us. Much how the Hunger Games serve to remind us of District Thirteen's treason; to teach us lessons through the rise and falls of great warriors and evil demons."
Brock frowned, pausing for a moment. "So when I say Chise... what am I calling you?"
"It's hard to explain without writing my name," I say laughing. "Hm, how to put it... In my name, there are two pictures. One for star, which dominates my name, Chi. The second picture numbers them, thousand. Chise in our basic language means 'thousands of stars'."
Brock looked down at me in wonder.
Amia sighed, looking up at the darkening sky. "It's a beautiful name, regardless."
I thank them and explain how people in District One try to give their children flashy, luxurious, and rich names. "My parents named me in the ancient way, as they had been named. As most of our kind are. They gave me a name that was not only wonderfully fun to say, but it represents everything that is unattainable. No one can claim the stars. That makes them the most valuable thing in the universe."
Brock chuckles. "You are deep, Chise, girl of a thousand stars."
"You are as well, Flint. You see a lot more than most; you have a good mind and a pure soul behind all those muscles. Our names have some part in it, or so the myths of our past say. There is something about our names that shape our destiny. It is a common phrase that there are people who are born with no story to tell, those with stories that no one will listen to, and those who are born to do great things that will never be forgotten. It is that way, and it is known, and so believed."
"Do you believe them?" Amia asks hesitantly. "Surely there are not demons, or any other Ancient creatures. Kappas are a local folklore, meant to scare children from not wandering off near the water. The Ancients in our village warned us about them. Laughing as we went to the beach and telling us to beware the kappas that steal naughty children... Do you really believe these crazy stories?"
It's a dangerous question, and as a gust of wind sweeps up the mountain I shiver, holding myself. I believe a lot of things I shouldn't, and many of the myths had shaped my understanding of life. "It matters not if it's true or not true," I say carefully, giving them a wistful smile. "It's a story. As long as it is exciting, people will listen.” I say the words that Jade told me in my room, and it strengthens me, hoping she’s listening.
“Do you think we’ll be forgotten?” she asks sadly.
I hug her softly. “Stories are a great way to teach lessons, and I think that people make their own stories through the choices they make. If they are truly great, they will not be forgotten by the people who love them." It's the safest answer I can give. What I want to say is In time... we'll all be forgotten.
If there is ever a moment of understanding between us, this is a strong one. It leaves us in silence, and we focus on the dark path that wove up the steep mountain.
We meet with Jewel halfway up and way past dark. She sneaks up on us and begins speaking silently at my side.
"You finally made it," she says softly, coming out of the darkness.
I jump and gasp, jerking against Brock in the dark and scaring Amia so badly she screams.
"Jewel!" I exclaim, grabbing Amia’s arm reassuringly. "Don't do that!"
"Just doing my job," she says with a proud smile, hugging Amia happily. "No one around these parts that I can see. I'm not sure if anyone has even been through here. Should we head back?"
"No,” I say after a moment of thought. “We stay in the mountains, they offer the best protection. We need to be out here, I can feel it." I don't want to reveal my dream to them, nor the conversation Brock and I had already discussed, so I tack on a useful notion. "Also, if we're the first ones here, we'll have an advantage over anyone we meet by knowing the terrain. How much have you scouted?"
"When we stop," Jewel promises. "There's a cave nearby that looked safe. I checked it out on my way up though, so you never know what has claimed it as a den." She leads us up the mountain by her own path, though that generally means climbing some pretty tall rocks, and a wall or two. We watch her carefully, and then I follow, remembering her exact movements. It's easy to see the handholds, but the wind makes my hands so cold gripping the rock is painful. I grit my teeth and follow Jewel's called instructions that I hear over the gale. Amia followed me, and Brock behind her; should she fall, he'd be able to catch her. The walls, thankfully are never very tall, and we often find a crack in the rock to hide from the wind for a few minutes before pressing on.
Sure enough, just around the East side of the mountain, we find a cave set back on a shelf. It is sure to light up at first rise, and thankfully empty, though it's not very deep we fit comfortably and we're out of the freezing wind.
Bundled in blankets to keep warm, we sit closely together in the dark and speak in hushed tones. I realize it's perfectly formed to keep out the wind, but is open enough that a fire would draw attention to anyone hiding in the forest we overlooked. We have given up on the hope for the flickering comfort, but under the blankets we are warm enough. I return Amia's Panther cloak, which she thanks me for, apologizing silently with her blue eyes.
Jewel tells us she got to the top of this mountain and saw about four more beyond it; even taller, across a flat stretch of dirt, dust and rock. She hadn't think anyone would travel that far up or beyond, and so she started back. She says from the top of the mountain we're on, facing South, she can see the Forest, most of the field, and surprisingly a desert to the West, though, she admits she only glimpsed it and is unsure how big it is.
However, the best news Jewel has is she found a path off the mountain near the base before climbing up. She describes a narrow passage heading NorthEastEast, a coordination I'd never heard before. She thinks it leads to the forest, but didn't want to get too far track by exploring and continued up the mountain. I hadn't seen this passage, so this interests me, but I want to stay up here as long as I can. I feel the need to know what the dream had meant, if anything at all.
I suggest after all our work, we rest and volunteer to take first watch. Staying awake is no problem, as my legs are throbbing and my whole body is sore, but I wrap the blanket around me and listen to the howls of the wind outside.
I don't like how perfect the cave is. It's too good. It was most likely carved for this very reason. To harbor a tribute. That meant cameras. Good, they're watching us plot. We have said little between us, talking strategy and destination only. Of course, I'm not stupid enough to think we haven't all been watched the whole time. Even if Charon was as good as she said she was, she wouldn't have been able to avoid the all the cameras. The dull ache in my arm where my tracker had been injected was proof that the Gamemakers knew where everyone was at any time. They could turn cameras on and off with flick of a switch!
When I'm sure they're sleeping, I stand and drop my blanket, slowly removing my coat. Wrapping up in my blanket again, I turn my coat inside out and reach in the many various pockets and pouches I find have been added. Every gift is wrapped in a silk cloth with elaborate embroidery. After a moment, I rise and tiptoe to the bags and open mine, taking out my puzzle box. I could hide the treasures in this and no one would see them until I wanted them to. Like the few things I had taken from the Cornucopia.
I find sleeves to the coat wrapped in green ribbons in the right breast pocket, a smaller puzzle box wrapped in scarlet silk tucked in the left hip pocket with a box of matches, in the collar was a blue silk cloth wrapped carefully as a rose, a long pink scarf of the softest cashmere in the left breast pocket, and finally a wood carving of a black cat in a pocket on the coat where the small of my back was. I know each is a present from everyone who had helped me get this far. Sid had sent the coat full of tokens of good luck, and well wishes, along with a weapon to keep my mind sharp.
I examine the rose bag first and find a gorgeous necklace inside. It's a beautifully sculpted flower pendant that almost looked like a rose, except its petals are long and pointy, though just as many. It's a lotus, made of the finest glass and fixed to a chord of black braided leather. The glass was deep blue, just like the roses Chiara loved. It had a sacred meaning and I knew it had come from Sid, who had known some of the legends by knowing my family. The cloth it had been wrapped in was the most beautiful sapphire I'd ever seen, the bluest of all blues. I traced the star outline the silver thread made, and the markings they made in the center. The marks were the pictures of my name, Chise, on one side, and Nara on the other. It was beautiful and I couldn't believe the detail Sid had put into it. It looked like he had been working on it from the first day we got here.
The puzzle box was easily solved and when I poked at a small knot in the light red wood, it sprang open revealing a row of rolled cigarettes and a flint stone. It was like the one Jet had the night we had spent together and my blood ran cold for just a second. Jet had said Jade had given him the cigarettes... that it had taken him hours to get into the box. This must be a gift from Jade, and a well appreciated, one that earned the box a kiss. The wood smelled so nice, flowery and faint, like roses.
The cashmere scarf had to have been from Sug as a reminder to appear soft, so the sleeves must have been from Silvya. Things to enhance my appearance, to make me look more appealing, as well as keeping me warm. Cold days must be approaching. The sleeves are made of the same silk as the coat, and are shaped like shortened kimono sleeves, each with two small pockets in them. The inside is mint green satin, and there are pink wristlets pinned in each that are tied up in white ribbons. The scarf matches the wristlets, though it's cut in the oddest shape. As it's not cold enough to need any of it, I fold them all up and tuck them in my puzzle box.
The carving of a cat, though it was simple, was my favorite. I wondered if it could have come from Aollie, but I doubt it. None of these gifts seemed like Aollie, and I doubted he had even thought of sending us off with gifts. That only left one person; the only one with a name as black as the cat itself. I whisper Jet's name softly, as I pet the carving with my thumb. "I hope you rot in some Capitol body dump," I say a little louder. I don’t mean it, in that moment, only say it for the benefit of the cameras. Even still, I return it to the pocket I found it in and survey the landscape beneath us.
I wondered what Jet knew that I didn't. I wondered if he and Rye were hunting me down as we sat here silently in this cave. I wonder if Chiara is watching back home, and how often. I wonder how much I should be expressing, and what is safe to say... and finally I settle on sorting out what to keep in my coat and what to put in the box. I slip the cigarette box in my left breast pocket, the silk star goes in the box the necklace still wrapped in it, and I took out the small spyglass I managed to find, leaving the compass hidden. The spyglass goes in the left hip inside pocket, keeping the obsidian dagger on my right.
When I can't stay awake any longer, I wake Brock and collapse next to Jewel. Covering us with my blanket to conserve more heat, I rest my head on her shoulder and hold her. She seems to appreciate the contact because her breathing slows and she stops shivering. I wrap an arm around her and close my eyes, hoping to sleep peacefully. Amia had chosen to sleep closer to the entrance, and alone.
A few hours later, or was it longer than that?, I woke curled up in a pile of blankets and it's silent. I jolt awake and look around, fearing they had left me. Brock is standing near the mouth of the cave and the sun is shining brightly, but it's low in the sky. Jewel is nowhere to be seen and Amia is grilling fish over a small fire. "Don't tell me we have another runaway," I moan, taking down my hair and rubbing the roots, trying to ignore how dirty it was getting.
"She'll be back," Brock says, turning and lifting a hand as if to say 'good morning' without actually having to utter the words. Of course it wasn't a good morning, we're playing the Hunger Games. However, he offers me the water.
It's the second out of three, having split the first canteen on the plain yesterday. This canteen is half-empty, and despite my thirst I allow myself three mouthfuls and cap it. Or maybe it's half-full... I feel a stab as I hear Ray's voice in my mind, and can't help but feel a little guilty for his death. I sort of wished it had been Amia instead. The thought forces me to give her a guilty look, but she sweetly offers me a fish and grins.
I thank her, taking it and sitting next to her. "Capitol willing, we'll get a kill today. It's been too quiet." I say this easily as I bite into the crispy skin that hid the flakey meat of the fish. It has been a concern of mine. I had hoped the other tributes would have run into each other more, but know it's early in the game. Yet, if things got too boring, bad things tended to happen. Usually there's a few days before the Gamemakers tried to end more lives, sometimes it never happens and it drags out slowly.
I had also started training myself to say things like "Capitol willing," or "Capitol bless" or whatever asinine compliment I could think of. If I thought of the Hunger Games as my religion, the Capitol would be my god. I had nothing else to worship or pray to, and neither had anyone else since before the Dark Times. The Arena is, in all actuality, the world, and the Tributes players in the game... We will all have our deaths, and perhaps we already have had them. Maybe we all died already, and we are left to live out our Deaths over and over until we find the real message.
It had started as a joke in my mind just after Brock and I had left the Cornucopia, but I decided to run with it. Look like a proud tribute. I think it annoys Amia, but she never says anything. For me, it’s an anchor for my sanity, and my actions links in the chain keeping me connected. If I can act as a servant, I can make decisions like a master; for a servant must know the mind of the Master to serve.
Jewel returns and tells us the path is clear and the wind isn't too bad right now, but might get worse closer to the top. She looks irritated, but she pulls a package of nuts out of her bag and offers me some. She tells me they're almonds she found in the food and she's already eaten half the bag in the course of a day.
Taking a couple, I understand why she eats them sparingly, and I'm soon taking another sip from the canteen to clear my mouth of the dry paste after swallowing several times. "Tasty, but they require more water than we can allow." After uttering the words, I wonder how many she had eaten before allowing herself to drink. It forces me to wonder if she enjoyed torturing herself.
We decide to wrap the blankets around us under our packs, alleviating some of the weight from our shoulders and keeping us toasty warm. Amia, not having a blanket, got mine. She glances at my coat, not for the first time, but asks no questions. We're all still wearing our cloaks as well, making us look like a walking troupe of strange animals, but I'm the only one who has failed to dress in more than my furs, a sleeveless coat, and a makeshift dress. For all I knew, I could be wearing a tablecloth or a picnic blanket, but clothes were a little worry at this point.
"I think I could use a journey to the top of this mountain," I say lightly, as if it doesn't matter. "Get the blood pumping and maybe I can come up with a plan. If there's something of interest beyond it, maybe we could do a little exploring. Do you mind showing us the way Jewel?"
We spend most of the morning climbing our way slowly to the peak. Near the top we hear a cannon ring out, and we turn to see where it was coming from. Looking, we can barely make out the hovercraft that swoops in near the edge of the forest that had tried wrapping up the mountain on the Southeast side.
From our spot where we break, you can see a great deal of the arena, and I agree with Jewel. There's no need to go any further. It was just going to tire us and waste time. It might even trap us, should the Gamemakers get bored. One death so far today. I hoped it was good.
"Do you think they're coming this way?" Jewel asks suddenly, looking at me.
"I do," I say quietly. "In fact, I know they are. I bet I could even predict that it's Bos in that forest... with a hammer. I also think that we should set a trap for him."
"An ambush is a better idea," Brock interjects. "We have all the means for a perfect ambush. We have the element of surprise, the knowledge of the area, and the numbers. If it's just one tribute, it should be easy."
"I don't think any of the tributes have grouped up," I state. "Maybe a few have paired, but I think we're the biggest group. Still, your mind is always on target Brock, let's go with your idea. What's your plan?"
"I think we should go on," he says firmly. "If they come up this mountain, going back down and across that flatland is going to tire them. We'll be ahead of them and we'll be able to find the perfect spot. On this mountain, we have no protection. Maybe if there was something more than rock we could work with it, but aside from pushing the mountain over, we're out of other options. It could be that they've found Jewel's little passage and will be coming this way. Pushing on seems best. Chise was right; we need to stay in the mountains."
I reach into my coat and bring out the spyglass, looking across to one very tall mountain, three times the height of the one we were standing on at least. The four peaks seem to have been clustered on top of each other, forming a very tall, shambling structure that awed me. "Well... we're going to be doing a lot of climbing if we go. It looks like there are stairs though, so I don't think we'll have to worry about falling..." I can feel them watching the object in my hands as I snap it shut and tuck it away again. "The second peak is flat, and there looks to be some sort of ruin. If anything, we might be able to find something there. It seems the best place to stop, but we're going to have to push into the night to make it all the way there."
"We've got no choice," Amia says, sighing and hitching up the side-bag she's agreed to carry for me. "I'd rather walk for hours towards a destination than turn around and run into that... monster. Even with four of us... It's not a good place to fight. We need stable ground and space."
We're halfway across the flatland when Jewel touches my arm and points to the sky. Clouds are gathering and I can no longer see blue. "Give thanks, friends!" I say loudly, drawing Brock and Amia's attention. "The Capitol blesses us with rain today!" I can't help stopping to sniff the air. I had always enjoyed the smell of rain, the fresh water that pours from the sky to nourish everything. The dizzying aroma of it hitting dirt.
Unless it is a rain of acid...
In the Arena, I know that the only reason we get rain is because the Gamemakers feel like giving it to us, however it was beginning to look like the only way to find fresh water in this arena was to go to the forest. Which meant most of the tributes would be there, or going there. The rain would wash over us first, before reaching the forest, if this mountain let it get that far. If we died, they’d have a warning by our cannons. Four cannons, all at the same time, was generally a hint.
“Let’s hope the Gamemakers aren’t bored,” I say, running a hand over the fox's head that covers my hair, scratching behind its ears thoughtfully. “If the odds are ever in our favor, that rain won’t melt our flesh off our bones.”
Even though we run most of the way, it's lightly raining when we take cover at the base. We sit in a circle, watching the clouds darken, each of us eating an apple and enjoying the last of our old water. Our plan had been thankfully interrupted by a sudden downpour that filled all six canteens we have between us. Luckily, it is normal rain water.
The storm had swept down from the tall mountains and over the smaller one, running down into the forest and plain beyond. It looked like it might run out before it reached the beach though. I knew it would wipe away the tracks we had made getting here, and all the way up the mountain, which was lucky for us. However, knowing a tribute was so close is discomforting, even if the rain didn't stop them. The water was warm enough, and not too heavy, there was a chance someone might choose to press on through this.
We chew jerky and wait for the rain to stop and the sun to come out. The rain has soaked us, but the packs stay safe and dry under all our blankets in the shade of the mountain.
"Do you think he traveled in the rain?" Brock asks me.
I shake my head. "Maybe. It doesn't matter, we're here now, it'd be foolish to turn around. Even to lure him here. Either we'll be safe for a few days, or he'll follow. If he doesn't take the bait, we'll move to the forest. Everyone is likely there anyway."
I untie the strips of cloth on the katana's scabbard and string it across my back like a bow. I tucked two knives into my leg guards and fastened my needles high on my thigh, rewrapping, tucking and tying the dress for easier access.
The sun is low when we start up the mountain. The stairs leading up the face of the first peak are steep and just as winding as the path up the first mountain. We tire quickly, but refuse to stop; crawling when we can no longer stand until we get our breath back. Night has fallen by time we reach the top and we hear the anthem ringing out for us all to see. Aken was shown, and the mystery of which tribute had died was put to rest. Though no one said it, I knew they wondered who killed him. I was still betting on Bos. We gave him a moment of silence while we rest, and then we pressed on.
The decent is easier and less inclined, though longer, and leads to a valley the next mountain sprouted out of and had started to grow towards the heavens. The second peak is half the size of the first, and the staircase is easier to climb, though the top leads to a doorway cutting into the mountain. It's a tunnel with no light, and the thought of entering it terrifies me. There's no telling what is in there, if there are traps, or how far it goes... or where it came out, if it did at all.
Brock volunteers to go first, and I take his hand automatically and follow, reaching back for Jewel who takes Amia's hand. We are cautious in the dark, creeping slowly and silently along, never once speaking or letting go of each other. The path leads up and around several corners, eventually opening up again to show the sky, black and full of stars. The climb up had slowly revealed a ruin of varied colored stone that appears to have been destroyed by time and nature, even though I know it has been built within the year. Stairs run the rest of way to the top of the mountain, and the peak sprawls out into a broken stone courtyard.
A fire is quickly built from the pack of wood that Brock had been carrying. It's big enough to keep us warm as we finally relax, staring up at the sky, protected by the stone walls that are still standing.
"They're beautiful," Jewel sighs, pointing to the stars. "We don't get to see them often where I live. Too many electric lights."
"Chise's name means thousands of stars," Amia says softly. "She told us that on the way here."
"They're much prettier," I admit, chuckling. "We wake at dawn and go over plans. I'm too tired to take first watch."
Jewel agrees to take first watch, Brock second and Amia third, who would wake me in the morning. In the end, Brock was the only one who ended up sleeping. Lying on the ground by the fire with the other two girls, we speak in soft voices. In a lull in conversation I quietly whistle, not realizing it was the anthem of Panem.
"You whistle their song?" Jewel growls when she can take no more.
"You have to admit, it is catchy," I joke, but when she looks at me darkly, I sigh. "I was raised to love the Capitol."
Jewel stews, and Amia looks uncomfortable. We know we're being watched, and we know they can hear every word we say. "I just can't," she finally says.
I'm shocked and I look up at her from under my coat which I'm using as a blanket. "How can you say that! These games keep Panem in the state of peace it's in!"
"You can't actually believe that," she mutters, rolling her amber eyes.
"I do," I assure her, seriously. "District Thirteen didn't know their place and they deserved to be destroyed. They tried to break the machine that keeps Panem running and the Capitol made sure their treason didn't spread! If there is a dead branch on a tree, or a weed threatening the life of the tree, you get rid of it so the tree can flourish. It’s that, or the tree dies."
Jewel laughs, but it's not happy, nor kind. She scratches at her pale blonde hair. "Spoken like a career from District One. You have no clue how easy you have it."
That strikes a chord in me, but I bite my tongue and let her snarl at me as Amia looks on, horrified. I realize Amia is weak and she hates confrontation. Even though she has an opinion, she seems unwilling to give it.
"Your district is rich!" Jewel sneers stubbornly. "The Capitol favors you! You shine and distract them with your gems, while the rest of us actually have to work for a living! You work in a shop and still make more in a week than I could ever hope to hold in my hands, even though my job could kill me every day! All it takes is one slight brush of an open wire and I'm dead! Then my father would have to bury me; he's the gravedigger, you see... He really is smart, my father. He went into the only occupation that will never die, if you excuse my pun."
I try not to giggle, looking apologetic when she glares at me. It's the most angry I've ever seen her. I realize that this is an important issue to her, but I’m unable to resist the pun. I hadn't known the conditions of most of the districts. You get to see very little of them from the broadcasts, and learning too much about the districts was frowned upon. I knew they were poor, but I didn't know their jobs were hazardous as well. However... the way I saw it, District One may not have very many lethal jobs, mainly because most of us were expected to volunteer for the Hunger Games. Which, in its own right, is the most lethal thing one could do with their life. However, I can't say that in that manner.
"I have no family," I say softly, finally speaking for us "careers". "I live in a small open one-room house at the grace of my best friend's parents, and I have to work to feed myself. Just like you, I know what it's like to go to sleep hungry for days. The things we do... we don't do them exclusively for the Capitol, we do them because they need to be done. We feel obligated, or even honored, to do them! However, to stop doing them because you're displeased doing it is the equivalent of a shriveling branch. I'm proud to be a Hunger Games tribute. That is the fate of District One, and Two. Even Four knows the pressure of volunteering! It means even if I fall, my death will have been spent towards something worthwhile. We die, so that a tribute from your District might win!"
"You're a sheep," she snaps.
"Fox," I say, pointing at my hood.
"You're letting them blind you and raise you up for slaughter!" she says, exasperated.
I have to say something that she can understand. Amia looks doubtful, but remains ever silent. "Have you lost family members Jewel?"
"Many," she says gruffly. "My mother, my older brother, a few cousins. They all died working in the plants."
"My mother and father, victors of this very same game, murdered themselves. Any of your family murder themselves for you to find after your first Reaping?"
The silence between us was heavy and I realize she's the first tribute I've talked about my parents’ death with. I shake my head and sigh. I had already said this much, I might as well continue. "Before my first Reaping they wished me luck," I say lightly, remembering that day as if it were the only day in my life. Knowing that the whole of Panem will soon hear this story. "They kissed my head and said they'd see me on the screens. It was the last time I saw them alive."
Their eyes are watch me carefully, waiting for a reaction I refuse to give them. I had lived too long in the memory to cry any longer. "Only, when I got home, my Father's stomach was cut open and my mother had slit her own throat. The knife was still in her hand when I found them." I pause there, watching the horror scene play out in my mind as I had every day since. When my voice is strong, I continue, softly. "In the letter they left, they told me they had known I would enter the Hunger Games eventually. They told me they wouldn't stand in my way and they loved me, and they were proud of their daughter. Yet, to uphold the family name, our honor that we had earned ourselves, they took their lives.
“Despite the strength and cunning they had shown, in life and the Hunger Games, they had still lost everything. They couldn't bear to watch their daughter devoted to such a brutal game, one that would most likely kill her. They cursed the Capitol in that letter, prayed I would have happy days in the sun, and then killed themselves over the treason."
As I finish my story, I can see they're listening, even though they can't meet my eyes. "My point is," I say slowly, and carefully, "is the Capitol didn't force my hard life on me, my parents did. They chose a way out so they didn't have to care for me, so they didn't have to watch their daughter die. They had so little faith in me, and the Capitol has so much... Everything I am, I owe to the Capitol. I had nothing before I got on that train to come here, but as soon as I stepped off, I had everything. If you think I'm going to change my whole life around to suit your delicate ears, you're out of luck on that one, Jewel. We all write our own stories, our own destiny, through our actions. What we do is everything, and now everyone is watching! You said during your interview that your skills are finally being acknowledged. The Capitol did that for you! If you hadn't been chosen, would your life be better than if you won the Forty-Second Annual Hunger Games?"
Under the stars, we have forgotten we are in the arena, and for a moment we're all friends on a mountain. However, my question brings us back to reality. It's better, I want to keep them from slipping into their dreams too far.
"There's no guarantee I'll win," she mutters.
"Not with that attitude," I agree. "You're smart Jewel, there was a reason I singled you out to work with. You could have killed us all several times over, and don't deny it."
She says nothing, but shoots me a warning look.
I sigh and close my eyes. "Have it your way. Still, at least here, you can fight back. I'd rather be hunted down and given a fight for my life than accidentally being electrocuted any day. There's more honor in it, and you know that's true. You should thank the Capitol, Jewel. They're giving you a second chance at a better life. Not everyone gets that chance."
She refuses to answer and I fall asleep to the sound of crackling wood. I wake when she stands to get Brock, but she doesn't return with him, taking his spot instead. I curl up next to him when he sits down, resting my head on his leg, slipping back into my dreams.
I wake again when Amia touches my arm. It's morning and the sun is peaking over the horizon, lighting up the arena, though we still can't see it. I tell her to sleep, which she thanks me for and passes out before I'm even up. Brock is sleeping as well, sitting up with his arms crossed and head bowed. He doesn't stir when I move away and stretch. With everyone still sleeping, I take advantage of the alone time and practice my martial arts, stopping every time I hear a slight sound.
Jewel is waking when I finish, and she gives me a wave, letting me know she's not angry anymore. That pleases me and I join her when I get my bag. I am shocked by her hug, but she forces it, gripping me hard. When we part, I give her a look that says I understand.
“How will we prepare?” she asks, stretching.
"We have weapons,” I say slowly, “but there's nothing to make a snare here. Rock traps would be less than useless... unless we build some in that tunnel. I think we're just going to have to use our skills against him. How is your swordsmanship?"
Jewel draws her blade and nods to me, walking off to another part of the courtyard. "Draw that pretty sword of yours and find out."
"I'm not going to hurt you Jewel," I say, undoing the katana straps again. "Do your best not to kill me, will you? I know you're going to want me around when Bos shows up."
"Do you really think he's coming?" she asks, shifting into a defensive stance. "What if he doesn't know we're up here?"
I frown, thinking that over as I join her, drawing the blade easily with my left hand. "Then... we leave. There's nothing here and climbing any higher is folly. However, I have this itching suspicion that he knows we're here. I can't say how, but I know he knows. Call it intuition, or a weight on my mind, whatever you like. He is coming. I saw him walk off into the forest, Aken died yesterday; you found a secret passage... It fits too well for him not to be heading this way."
"You really are left handed..."
The statement surprises me, and that's all it takes. Jewel launches herself at me and I barely have time to get my sword up. I sweep her to the side and step forward, spinning around her as she swings again. I defend well enough, and it isn't long until I see her begin to sweat. She, however, is doing well; attacking when she sees an opening, defending while she's looking. Our blades clang together over and over, though we watch more how each other fight more than we actually try to hurt each other. I find an opening and feel my strength waning, so I decide to end the practice with a little lesson.
I wait until she lunges at me, and I block as usual, only this time I swing the scabbard still in my right hand, stopping short of her head. I grin and tap her temple and step back, bowing. "You are good," I say, gulping in the sweet air as I sheathe the katana. Brock and Amia had been roused by the sound and sat watching us, so I waved a greeting. "However, never lose your scabbard. Never throw it away. You never know how you can use it. I once heard of a sword that was unbreakable as long as the user had its scabbard on him. In one duel, he threw the scabbard away and after he did, his opponent cut through the sword and the man as well... It could be a story, but still, they are useful as weapons, as well as balance."
"You didn't learn with a broomstick," she pointed out, though she took the praise with a smile, and the advice with a nod. "My mom, before she died, broke a broom and told me to throw it out, but I kept the handle... It was stupid, I know, but... I didn't want to be scared all the time. I wanted to feel brave."
I understood, though I hadn't ever felt afraid until my parents had died. I had always been strong, resilient, focused... I guess they knew I'd be able to make it, even all the way through the Games. I shivered and walked back to the fire. "We're getting low on food..."
"We can stay here another day," Jewel said. "I'm sure one day without food will improve our travel back. Or we could not eat today, your choice."
"Your choice," I say wearily and unzip my pack. I ignore the clothes still, and pull out my puzzle box, glancing at the rope inside. Secretly pressing the hidden button on bottom and opening the top. I take out my sleeves wrapped around the wristlets, and the scarf. It's getting cooler and I would rather be overly warm than not have time to do this. The three of them stare at me, and I frown, closing the top and setting the box on the ground.
"Where did you get that coat, Chise?" Amia asks finally. "It looks like the one you wore in the training room..."
"The very same. It was a sponsor gift," I say, looking at Brock. He nods, and I take it as encouragement. "I got it after I killed Cairn." I had been dreading telling her this, knowing Jet too had gotten a gift box. It doesn't take her long to connect the dots and she's suddenly standing.
"Are you working with Jet?" she asks hysterically. "He got a gift after he killed Ray! Just like you!"
"I'm not in control of what I get or when," I say angrily. "My mentor made that painfully clear. He said he would give me only what I need, not what I want. I'm likely to never get another gift, considering the price this must have been! Besides, I have to kill Jet for you, remember?" I strip the coat off and set about connecting the sleeves to my coat with the satin ribbons they had been wrapped in. I thank Silvya with every wrap, although aloud I say nothing, focusing only on the task at hand.
"How many pockets does that coat have, exactly?" Brock asks, pulling the last of our food out of his backpack.
The question stuns me and cock my head as I double check. In doing so I discover one in the lining down the spine of the coat and find a folded up bit of black velvet, but I leave it there to open later. I wonder if I should lie, but abandon my doubt in the same instant. "Two in each sleeve, one in the collar, one down the back, one in the small of my back, one on each breast, one at each hip and one on either side down to the bottom... So, thirteen. More than when I first got it, it had three back then."
"Odd numbers..." Amia says, looking thoughtful, having rejoined us begrudgingly. "Then again, numbers are funny things. If you pay attention to them your whole life... they start to drive you mad. I've seen it happen before. They pop up over and over until they're all you see. Thirteen is one of those numbers. Four is another. Some of the Ancients in our District believe they are cursed because we live in District Four. 'It is the number of death' they say... or something like that. They refuse to use it, unless to name our District."
The notion strikes me as odd. I'd never heard of such an idea, and I told her so. She replies with a shrug and looks out across the mountain. "Now that we're all awake, and thankfully still alive, we need to ready ourselves, should Bos turn up," I continue casually. I act as if I haven’t noticed her pulling away, but it’s unmistakable. She had assumed I had found the coat in the clothes, and now she didn’t trust me. I would have to regain that trust, or it would be our downfall. "We should keep the fire going so the smoke can be followed, it's the only lure we have."
"We're the best chance of taking him down," Jewel says quietly, taking the apple Brock hands to her. "I have my archery, you have your blade, Amia has nets and a spear, and Brock has... well... what are you using?" she asks.
Brock shakes his head and hands me an orange. "I won't use a weapon to do my dirty work. If I am forced to kill or help kill, I'll do it with my own two hands."
I respected him more for those words and accept the fruit, smiling at it fondly. I kiss the rind, before I begin to peel it. "You’re right. No one's safe from him. However, as long as we have Brock, we have a good chance of taking him down. We can't let him off the mountain and back into the forest. Let the rest of the tributes fight amongst themselves, we have a bull to kill."
"What are we going to do when he gets here?" Amia asks nervously, accepting the last of Brock’s jerky.
I think for a moment, looking at Brock, then Jewel, then her. I finish peeling my orange slowly, and as I twist the rind between my fingers, my mind clicks slowly. "I think... We can overpower him with sheer numbers. Amia, if you focus on trapping his feet in your nets, we should be safe. We just need him to fall, and then we have the advantage."
"Sounds easy enough," Brock says skeptically. "Too easy."
I nod, frowning. "I know... but four on one is hardly fair, especially when we have the better giant. However, I'd rather be safe than fair."
Brock is pleased at the praise, I can tell from his smile, but it is brief. We hear a noise come through the passageway, and we're ready when he breaks into the daylight. I hold up my hand, motioning them to wait. I don’t want to attack him blind, or without provocation. "Maverick!" I call, putting on a fake smile. "You came back!"
He grunts, shouldering his huge hammer. He looks at us all with his dark beady eyes, armed and ready to attack. "I've been hunting."
"Did you get Aken yesterday?" I ask, taking a few steps closer, my katana held loosely in hand, but sheathed. He shouldn’t feel threatened, I hope. "We saw he was accepted as tribute on the broadcast last night."
He nods slowly. "He was weak."
"Well, great! You really are racking up quite the list there, aren't you? You're even with me now! Though, I believe I have more cloaks..." My smile slips when he holds up a bloody coyote cloak, my face paling. Jewel touches my arm, assuring me that she's there. "Well, I could give you the other one you earned, if you'd like."
He throws the cloak and looks to Amia. The cloak balls and rolls midway between us. "I came for her."
I shake my head, sighing. "See... I was hoping to avoid this. You have an eye for the girls Bos, and it makes us very uncomfortable. You can't blame her for running from you."
Amia held her place, net in one hand, spear in the other, looking horrified.
A smile splits across his lips and sends shivers down my spine. "No... We came for you. She led me here."
We say nothing for a moment, then I glare at Amia. "You sold us out?" I'm calm, trying not to let my surprise show.
Amia grins, pivoting and aiming her spear at Brock as Jewel brings an arrow up to focus on Bos. We don't move, somehow knowing better. "I know how you think! I saw your coat at the Cornucopia and I don't believe your lies. You're working with Jet and you're going to kill us all! So when you were all sleeping last night, me and Bos worked out a deal."
"Bos and I," I muttered, seething inside. I was fed up with her poor grammar, and I finally let my thoughts be known.
"We were foolish to look for you," Brock says angrily, ignoring my comment.
"Quite," I say, looking at the cloak at my feet. "Well, in that case, Amia... who is going to protect you when we're dead and it's just you and Bos?"
She pursed her lips and shook her head. "I can take care of myself..."
"Sure you can," I say. "Bos, she's been plotting your death with us since yesterday. For all you know, she might turn on you with us. She's dead either way... I'll take that cloak you offered if you kill her for us. You can even stay with us, if you want."
Bos smiled brilliantly, a far different smile than the creepy one that had made me feel disgusting. This one is softer, but just as filled with thoughts of a dead body. "It's yours," he says, lifting his hammer.
Amia looks desperate as we all step back, but she launched into action, avoiding his first swing and tangling his legs in her net, stabbing her spear into his calf, and bringing him to his knee. She jumps away as he roars in pain, yanking the spear out. She's surprised when we join at my whistle, Jewel shooting two arrows in his direction which he twists away on the ground, forcing her to miss her marks, but not the lumbering and trapped target. He has one arrow in his bicep, one in his shoulder, and another sinks into his leg as I draw my blade.
Brock has captured Amia and knocked away her spear, holding her arms behind her tightly and forcing her to watch.
Bos quickly untangles himself and throws the net far away angrily, flinging up a handful if the dusty dirt in my face as I advance. I throw my arm up a little too late and cough as the dirt gets in my eyes and mouth. I slash blindly at him, wishing I had Jewel shoot him in the head when he exited the passage. I'm rewarded with a snarl and a blow to the face.
I see stars as I fall to the ground, my grip on my blade evaporating. I lay there, stunned and am quickly forced up by Jewel, even though I know she thinks she's helping. I blink away the dirt, wiping desperately as Jewel slaps the handle of my sword in my left hand. I can barely see when I feel her leave my side. By time my vision returns, there has been a flurry of motion and sounds of smacking and blows, grunts and screams.
When things become clear, Brock and Bos are wrestling each other on the ground and Jewel has caught Amia and is beating the smaller girl's face with her fist, fingers tangled in the small girl’s hair. The high pitched wailing fill our ears and Jewel throws her to the ground, clutching Amia's broken spear handle in her bloody hand.
I approve, quickly move to her side, bouncing back from my stinging eyes, now streaming with tears to flush out the dirt. Pulling Amia up and putting my blade to her neck, I scream at her to shut up before I silence her with a blood gag. The noise dies away, though she whimpers in fear. I let her, after all, she can't help it. "Brock, let Bos do this one in before we continue. She isn't on anyone's side and he owes me a death for that cloak."
"No!" Jewel exclaims. "She's been taught her lesson!"
"Is that right? Well, I'd like to hear that from Amia herself then!" I exclaim, pressing the blade harder into her skin. "Are you going to betray us again?"
The girl shook her head, tears rolling down her face and mixing with the blood from her nose. She attempted to struggle, but when I shook her, nicking her throat a little, she stilled. "I'm s-s-sor-sorry," she stammers, trying not to scream again.
Then I hear the strangest sound, and I take my blade away to look. I step back quickly, shoving her away disgusted, watching her wet herself. She collapses and cries, holding her throat. "Fine, but mind you Amia, one more defiance and you'll be seeing Cairn really soon. Jewel, if she attacks, kill her. No questions, no hesitations."
Bos grunts under Brock and drops into a roll, surprising the boy on top of him. Taking advantage of Brock's loose grip, Bos tore away and scrambled forward, grabbing Amia by the throat and knocking me away. He uses her as a shield as he knelt half-way to his feet, not noticing she was strangling under his thick arm. "You want to kill me," he growls. "We had a deal..."
"Well, Bos," I say, exasperated. "Killing is the point of the game. It's kill or be killed out here. However, we can work something that doesn't involve you dying just yet..."
His brow lowers and for a moment it seemed like he wouldn't move, but he finally stands, dragging Amia up and off her feet. "Throw your bow," he snarls at Jewel.
I cringe at the gagging noises, but give Jewel the nod and they rid themselves of weapons in a pile and move away from it a few steps. "Your fight is with me," I say softly, hoping he has already made up his mind to kill her.
"If I let this girl live... will you let me leave?"
Her eyes pleaded with me as she mouthed words she couldn't speak, dark lips trembling, tears running down her lumpy cheeks. Run.
Was she afraid we wouldn't be able to fight him? Did she really want us to run and leave her? No, there would be no running. Bos needed to be brought down, here and now, and Amia wasn't enough of a prize to spare him. Even if we did run, she would end up dead. I shake my head, just once. "I'm sorry, but Amia is of no use to me. I spared her for Jewel's sake, but I have no compassion for her."
The girl is angry after hearing my words, and unnoticed, she had been reaching for something under her dress. She flicks her arm, and I don't have time to register what she has thrown before I'm shoved to the ground by Jewel, who grunts and lands on top of me.
The loud snap and Amia's body falling to the ground wiped my mind blank, and it's the only thing I can see under Jewel as she begins to move off me. I could tell by the way she was lying, Amia would never get up again. I looked at Bos and the look in his eye as he took up his hammer once more threw my brain into overdrive. I still had weapons, I realize as Jewel pulls me to my feet and I see the knife just under her collarbone. I have lots of weapons.
"You no longer have a shield or a bargaining chip," I call for Bos to hear, jerking the throwing knife out of Jewel, offering only a sympathetic look. She covers the gash with a hand and, holding it tightly, smiles weakly. I turn and look at him, noticing he hadn't moved far from where he stood with his hammer looking at Brock uneasily. I'm holding the knife Amia had thrown lightly, knowing I wouldn't use it. I'm horrible with throwing knives, and having one was useless to me. "You are out of cloaks to trade, Bos. You're out of hostages. You have nothing of value, and to be very blunt, we don't like you. No one does. You're big and scary and you undress girls with your eyes. So tell me, are you ready to die?"
He scowls and lifts his hammer.
I lick Jewel's blood off the blade, hoping to disgust him, and toss the blade aside. "I'll give you a moment to rest, if you'll give me the time to ready myself. I suggest you take it, if you don't want to bleed to death before I kill you. We fight one on one, just you and me. My people stay back, and you leave them out of it. Is that acceptable?"
He nods shortly.
I clean my blade that had acquired dust from being thrown to the ground, then slip it in its sheathe. "Jewel, stay back and watch. Brock... you know what to do." I give them a bright smile and a wink, and then stride towards the man, measuring the distance between us. Crouching slightly, I hold the scabbard in my right hand and grip the handle with my left, my eyes never leaving him.
We watch each other for a moment, and when he rushes me, the dance starts.
I avoid his movements, which is easy enough with his heavy weapon. His swings are easy to predict, and his staggered shuffling only slows him further. I never draw my blade, though I move quickly to avoid his wide swings. I begin to think I can just tire him out without it. Knowing Jewel, she'd be getting pretty anxious right now, and Brock... he was waiting for his opening, as I was searching for mine.
Ducking under his arms as he swings, I roll between his legs and pull one of my needles. On my knees, I skid around, brace myself, and throw it at him. It pierces his skin between his shoulder blades, but both of us are unprepared for the next attack.
A thundering crack sounds close to me, and I instinctively darted away from both the noise and Bos, who is making an awful sound. It's high, and shrill, and covered for brief seconds by more cracks, snaps and shrieks. He drops to his knee and his entire torso jerks forward as I realize why. He has three deep slashes across his arms, one shallow slice on his across his bare chest, and his back was being attacked now.
Jewel, her blonde hair flying as her body twisted and her arm swung expertly with the weapon she had kept hidden. The whip danced and lashed out with the fury burning from Jewel's amber eyes, licking and biting the very flesh from him.
"Jewel, stop!" I shout, my sword lowered in my horror. "It's too much!"
Bos lifts his hammer, catching the thong as it wraps around, and I see him hold on for dear life. His keening whimpers are unbearable, but when Jewel tries to tug the whip back, he glares defiantly and gives a roar of painful protest. It's enough to keep his focus off Brock, who slams into him, knocking away the hammer.
Jewel snaps the whip, freeing it from the hammer and flinging the weapon away in the same motion, her face a terrifying mask of rage. It's hard to get a proper lock, as they wrestle around, but when Brock twists away, I see her let fly a shot from her retrieved bow and strike Bos between the lower ribs. Without missing a beat, she draws again. She's aiming for his heart when the ground shakes so hard she loses her grip and the arrow flies off into the sky.
Bos breaks Brock's grip and rolls away. I step in front of him quickly, raising my blade and slashing downward as hard as I could, aiming at his head. The ground shakes again, sending us all to the ground, rocks crashing down into the courtyard. Bos is howling and clutching his half-arm, his left hand lying not far from me. I kick it away and scramble towards my comrades, his blood shining brightly on the steel of my sword.
The third mountain cracks and the rock shower begins. Most of the rubble falls outside of the ruins, but boulders had started pouring down around us. It's dangerous to stay very much longer, that becomes apparent quickly. Bos runs off, leaving the hammer and his hand in exchange for his life, taking Jewel's arrows with him.
Even though the ground trembles and shakes, even though the mountain is falling around us, I retrieve Aken's cloak as Brock grabs all of our bags and Jewel wraps her whip back around her waist. Before we leave, I insist we return Amia's weapons to her broken body that I arrange properly, hands clasped together around the spearhead, the net covering her neck to foot. I kneel by her, staring down impassively as I wipe Bos's blood off my sword with the cloth of her dress. When I am sure it was clean, I return it to its scabbard and put it on my back.
"Your life was nothing more than tribute to our survival. We thank you for your sacrifice," I force out through clenched teeth, stroking the Panther's head she wore. "You made the wrong choice in friends; that was your mistake." When I stand, her cloak comes with me, and it's mine to keep. I give her one last lingering look, then spit on her face. "That's for calling me a bitch on leash," I tell her nastily.
"Chise!" Jewel shouts. "We have to go or we'll be trapped here!"
As if to prove her point, a large rock lands not far from me. I turn and run, stuffing my new cloaks in my sidebag. I follow quickly down the dark passage, trying not to let the fear of the falling mountain and the dark drive me to my knees. Though the tunnel is the most terrifying moment of my life, Jewel finds my hand and pulls me behind her, only letting go when we can see again. We don't stop running until we reach the top of the first peak and are in no danger of the rockslide that has totally destroyed the ruins. The third peak is entirely gone and crumbling down the mountain around us. A large crack led all the way to the top, proving the Gamemakers were behind the collapse.
I barely speak as we descend the steep stairs, but by time we hit the flatland, I am finally calm again and we stop to tend to our wounds and clean them. Brock has minor scratches and refuses treatment, and I'm too worried about Jewel to argue.
She looks ready to protest when I come to her with the water bottles, but I sharply tell her to keep her mouth shut and let me help. Sitting obediently, she moves her hair out of the way and pulling down her orange shirt. The cut is shallow, and is still bleeding a little, but otherwise doesn't look too bad. "I'm glad it's not worse," I say, relieved. "You saved me Jewel. I owe you."
"I swore I'd keep you safe," she says simply.
I stop my work and touch her face, cupping her cheek in my hand. "No modesty. You saved me, and I won't forget it."
Her cheeks burn with a rush of blood, and she smiles brightly. I've never seen her look so beautiful, I think, returning to my work. Shredding some extra clothes from Jewel's bag, we clean the wound and bind it. I also clean up her leg where Amia's spear had slashed her before tending to the minor scrapes on my knees that hadn't bled very much.
Jewel had to help me with my head wound, and we were left with a little more than a canteen of water.
Bos wouldn't dare attack us again, I knew that unquestioningly. He'd have to lick his wounds before fighting with anyone any time soon, or he would die of blood-loss and/or punctured organ before his next opponent finished taunting him. We quickly agree that the cave we spent the night in on the first mountain is the best destination. We'll be safe there.
It's a long hike, but we pass the time with conversation about our battle. I'm impressed with Jewel's whip and she tells me she had found it at the Cornucopia. When I ask, she confirms she had used a whip during her private training, as well as a bow and sword. Brock congratulates me on removing Bos' hand, and I frown. It upset me that I had missed his head, and the fact that I had taken his hand instead was a small consolation. I hadn't wanted to maim him, or make him suffer; I wanted to give what he had come here for.
Climbing the wall to the cave, I almost get blown off by the wind, but I cling to the stone as if my fingers were rock themselves until Brock helps me up and we take the sheltered path to the cave.
When the anthem sounds, I stand and walk to the mouth of the cave with Jewel, gazing at the sky until I see the lights of the hovercraft come to bring the good news. I see Amia's smile, and it forces a frown to my mouth. I hate how innocent she looks, how young, how happy. I was glad she died in misery and hopelessness, but I keep my dark thoughts to myself.
When the hovercraft leaves, we return to the fire that Brock has built. I'm sure her death would come as a shock to everyone, and I pray a plan is now botched because of it. Have something good come of her death... It was also helpful that careers were dropping off like flies. It gives hope to the weaker tributes.
"I'm leaving the mountains," Brock says quietly. "Tomorrow, we part. I'm going back to the Cornucopia and guarding it. Anyone can come and take what they want, but if they attack, I'm killing them and throwing their lifeless bodies down the hill. I don't care who they are."
Jewel looks at me, shocked, but I only nod. "Thanks for your help, Brock. I know you said you'd stay until Bos was dead, but I think we can take it from here."
We decide to let the fire burn out overnight and huddle together in the back under our blankets. The wind had started up again and howled outside. I listen to it, as Jewel and I hold each other and she quickly falls asleep.
I see the fox in the mountains in my dreams again. It is far off up the path and every time I get close, it dashes away. It leads me back to that ruin, and that damn courtyard, which lay empty. Yet, when I look behind me, feeling a presence, the fox sat looking at me with its eyes. It began to grow and shift, until Amia stood before me, smiling a little. I reach for her and she drops as she had from Bos' arms, shifting into a dead panther on the ground.
I wake with a start, but it's still dark out. Brock is snoring softly, and the wind has died down. All was quiet. I stay awake thinking about the dream I’d had, and the one I had before the arena. Had I seen the future unconsciously? Had I had a spirit dream? If this fox had meant the death of Amia... what did the other ones mean?
The confusion lulls me back to sleep and when I next wake, Brock is gone. I'm awake in the arena, I'm alive, and I'm alone.
- 11
- 12
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