Twenty Four Shades of Blood [A Hunger Games Fanfic]

Settling Down - 14

There’s nobody here.

He checks again, just in case he’s missed something. The empty room leers at him, moss seeping from the cracks in the stones. Spiked plants jut out from the floor, too thin for anybody to be hiding behind. They rustle in the light breeze that flutters through the spaces where there were probably windows once, half-obscured by thick vines. Beams of weak light glide over the floor. The whole place makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand alert, but only because it’s so sinister, not as if he’s being watched.

“Nobody here,” he says aloud, in case that helps calm his trembling nerves. The humidity is stifling, even so late in the day. His hair sticks to his cheeks and behind his ears and beads of sweat are forming along the line of the scar on his wrist. He traces it with his thumb, stroking a rhythm to steady himself. There’s not enough space. He’s squashed himself into a corner, opposite the rotted door he ran in by so it should be impossible for anybody to creep up on him, but the walls feel too close in for him to relax. And the arena is no place to relax anyway.

He wishes that he had some way of defending himself. If somebody comes through, his best chance is not being noticed. Well, he thinks grimly, as he shuffles to try and make himself comfortable, at least he knows that he’s good at that.

Arguing voices float between the trees and vines as the sun starts to set, the patches of light in the arena fading and stars sparkling between the gaps in the thick canopy. Insects scuttle and chirp, emerging from under the crumbling asphalt as the temperature drops a few degrees. The first full day in the arena is drawing to a close, the second night just starting to show its face. Many of the tributes are starting to settle down for the night. Apart from...

“I want to hold the torch.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“It’s my torch!”

“You’re not using it properly.”

“It’s a freaking torch. You turn it on and point it ahead. It’s impossible to not use it properly.”

“Whatever.”

“Shut up, train boy!”

“You shut up -”

“Both of you just shut up. Do you want to get found?” Oswin hisses. Benji bites back the insult that he’d been about to fling at Abi, settling for sticking his tongue out at her back when she looks the other way, eyes wide.

“I’m hungry,” she moans, “Are we going to stop soon?”

Oswin’s own feet ache and the familiar pangs of hunger are starting to make themselves known in her stomach. The cow torch only lights up a circle of space at a time, leaving the rest feeling darker than ever, and Abi keeps it grimly on the floor ahead. Someone could easily creep up on them, especially given the noise that they’re making. She feels like they’ve been going around in circles; the constant stream of thick vegetation and broken buildings is impossible to remember and eerily familiar at the same time. The two young ones - she can’t help but think of them as young - trail along doggedly, but bickering at every available opportunity. Neither of them seem especially scared. Good. The Capitol want them to look scared.

Still, they should stop. Somewhere where they are partially sheltered, at least.

“I don’t know,” she says, then, “Yes. But there’s nothing we can do about the food.” Benji groans dramatically and clutches his stomach. He’s not eaten in ages. His stomach growls. Abi snorts at the sound. “One of us at least has got to have sponsors,” she points out. Oswin smiles slightly at the tone in her voice.