Twenty Four Shades of Blood [A Hunger Games Fanfic]

Rain Falls Down - 13

Crouching under a fall tree trunk, Tyrion squints up through the drops at the patch of sky showing between the leafy treetops. It’s eerily silent, just a faint pattering noise far above him as the drops hit the leaves before sliding off and tumbling onto the ground below.  He jumps as the familiar sound of the anthem begins to blare, the noise loud and alien in this silent world he’s almost beginning to get used to.

Almost.

The trees and rain partially obscure the faces that follow the sound; he can make out a girl, although he’s not sure who she is.  She looks very young, big eyes staring down at the leafy carpet beneath her. The next face is familiar; he thinks it’s the boy from Twelve. Then his face dissolves back into the rain and the anthem sounds again before the arena plunges back into the oppressive silence.

Tyrion shifts, tugging the collar of his lightweight jacket up around his neck. The water seems to be intent on crawling down his back, no matter how tightly he pulls the collar up; it makes his skin crawl. He sighs and resigns himself to a cold and wet few hours.  Behind him, Byron shifts, trying to get comfortable in the damp undergrowth and next to him, Ellie is giggling to herself. The noise feels wrong in the brooding stillness and Tyrion is about to tell her to shut up when he realises she’s actually asleep.

He can’t help but feel astonished and slightly jealous of the younger girl.  Despite being in the worse place in Panem, the worst possible situation, she’s still able to be happy, even if it is just in her dreams. He wishes he could be like that.  The memory of the night before and the dreams sends a shudder down his spine that has nothing to do with the invading water. Better to be awake and damp than trapped inside his dreams, the twisting, leering shapes and the sickening smell of blood.

His temple hurts but at least it’s stopped bleeding.

Tyrion jumps as Carmen sits up, brushing her slightly frizzy hair out of her eyes. Leaves stick in her hair and to her clothes, and one half of her face is streaked with mud. He shifts aside to make room for her, though there’s still not enough space in the tiny clearing. Ellie snuffles and turns over as Carmen’s hand brushes past her leg, but she doesn’t wake up.

“I’ll take watch now,” she says, “You get some sleep.”

He shakes his head, his hair shedding droplets of water. “No. I can’t sleep.”

“Don’t trust me?”

The sword is propped up against a mossy tree, rivulets of water gradually washing away the blood.

The silence is enough.

Carmen sighs. “You’re my district partner, Tyrion. I couldn’t bring myself to kill you even if I wanted to. And if I wanted you dead I’d have let that girl throw another one of those star things at you.”

He doesn’t see why she’s mentioning that. If he’d killed somebody, he’d be ashamed of it, curled up on the floor and wishing for forgiveness. He wouldn’t be able to live with it; somebody else’s life gone at his hands! A family somewhere grieving because of him. And then there’s that persistent thought that won’t go away that at least three of the four people in this clearing will have to die. His heart pulses irregularly.

“At least it isn’t cold,” he says eventually, after a few minutes of painful silence. She nods aimlessly. Ellie’s giggles, which he hadn’t even noticed had subsided, return. Byron shifts; he’s facing away from them and Tyrion can’t tell if he’s awake or asleep. If he’s awake he obviously doesn’t want to be a part of the conversation, and if he’s asleep...well, he trusts easier than Tyrion does. He brushes some beads of rain from his eyelashes and shudders as another stream crawls down his back.