BLOOD ON MY HANDS || Finnick Odair

fifteen; the cornucoupia.

Neither of them had spoken about what he'd done to Lara in Beau's absence. Whether it was because he didn't want to believe that Eden was capable of it, or because he understood, Eden wasn't entirely sure. But he appreciated it all the same.

Seeing her face be the only one in the sky that night had flooded him with guilt, so much so that he hadn't even been able to go near Cissy. He was almost afraid that what he'd done would somehow transfer over to her and dictate who she would become.

The last thing he wanted was for her to be forced to become a killer like he had.

But Beau had wordlessly forced her into his grasp as he'd mushed up some nuts and berries in the tarp again, and from then on it had been hard for him to put her down. The two of them had once again reached the conclusion that she needed milk, whether it be fresh of powdered, but they were still stuck on how they would get it.

They'd thought about maybe using sponsors, but they knew that now with it just being himself, Beau, as well as Amethyst and Darius left, the milk would cost a fortune that no one could afford. So they were stuck.

Right up until the voice of Claudius Templesmith had flooded the arena over the intercom just minutes after Lara's face had left the sky, and they stood in a frozen silence.

"Attention tributes, attention; commencing at sunrise, there will be a feast tomorrow at the cornucopia. This will be no ordinary occasion. Each of you needs something desperately, and we plan to be generous hosts."

Then, just as quickly as he'd arrived over the loudspeakers, he disappeared and they were left in the misty silence.

"They'll have milk there for her," Beau murmured, nodding over at Cissy.

Mist settled in their hair and on their clothes as they began their journey again, this time with definite purpose. He could feel the warmth of Cissy against his chest, head nestled into the crook of his neck as she slept in the reconfigured remains of Flora's jacket.

Flora.

Flora Flint.

He closed his eyes as a memory of her blonde hair drifted across his vision and for a moment, he almost got a whiff of the scent of the soap she used.

But then it was gone, and he was left with the emptiness it had brought with it. His chest felt heavy yet hollow at the same time, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and never get back up again because ultimately, he had failed.

The only thing that kept him from doing so was the little fingers gripping the collar of his shirt while the baby they belonged to slept soundly against him, soft snores leaving her mouth. "What do you think they need to get?" Beau asked him quietly," twirling his knife around his fingers thoughtfully with one hand while the other carefully settled over Cissy's forehead, feeling for any signs of fever. "If we're fast and careful enough, we might be able to get their supplies too."

"It'll be useful," Eden agreed without really thinking about it, already knowing what it would be for.

"Do I even want to know?"

It was then that he realized that Beau hadn't been there when Flora was killed, as he'd been down at the beach, and felt a dark smile roll across his lips. His head tilted back to look up at the sky and briefly allow mist to collect over his face, hopefully loosening some of the grime from it. "When Amethyst was trying to run away from the cave, I threw the spear at her and it hit her leg. Since I haven't seen her up in the sky yet, I'm assuming it's gotten infected like Lara's leg and probably needs some pretty intense medical care—"

"—which is what they would be getting at the cornucopia," Beau finished for him. Then he blinked. "Wait, is there some weird ritual they teach you back in district 10? When did you learn to throw a spear? Because I know it wasn't in tribute training."