Twenty Four Shades of Blood [A Hunger Games Fanfic]

Sitting Watching Waiting - 12

The rain wears itself out as the sun peers over the horizon, poking tentatively through the lush leaves of the long abandoned city. Wisps of steam, droplets catching the threads of light, start to rise from every surface, though water still drips down from the trees, providing a lonely soundtrack to the day over the steady, legarthic gushing of the river.

Many of the tributes didn't sleep over the course of the damp, tense night. They are asleep now, eyes twitching and fluttering. Even in dreams it is impossible to forget that two days ago there were twice as many of them.

As the clock ticks midday in the full but quiet Gamemaker's hall, a woman reaches out for one of the trap switches, eager to liven the day up, but a brief command stops her.

"Let them catch their breath," the voice explains over the low hum of Capitol voices, the throb of the holograms.

"But they're not doing anything!"

"We can broadcast analysis, highlights, get the betting going a bit. Besides, that one might do something anyway," he adds, gesturing to a screen on which Cruz is skulking up a tree, glowering down on the Careers.

"He's been up there since dawn and he's barely moved."

"Biding his time. We must bide our time too."

With a sigh, the woman removes her hand from the button and resigns herself to a day of stillness in the arena.

To the Capitol, the day passes quickly, with coloured betting slips being brandished at every opportunity. Excitement is getting feverish, time itself getting caught up in the whirl of odds and outfits, screens showing replays of the most exciting moments so far.

Of this, the tributes are oblivious. The day crawls by. They have everything they really need, and don't dare to move. Oswin finds some berries, not enough to stop her young companions complaining of hunger, but enough to get by on, before finding refuge in the familiar pages. On Benji's demands she reads out a passage, but the pair are obviously not interested and don't complain when her voice peters out.

Austin prowls around the perimeter of the Career's 'territory', passing right under Cruz's tree several times without even noticing the young man from Eleven debating whether to drop something - preferably something heavy - on his head. His thoughts are elsewhere. At least this keeps him away from Ruby; his short but fierce district partner scares him, though he'd never admit it. At the reaping she didn't seem like much, but now...he shudders, remembering the twisted smile that she'd had when torturing the girl.

All too slowly, the sun shifts across the sky.

It is evening, the light quickly fading in the vast skies, leaving the towers that carry the wires away throughout Panem silhouetted starkly against the light of the setting sun. One by one the giant screens dotted across the towns spring into life, the faces of the tributes looming large over their families.

For most, it’s a chance to take the weight off tired and weary feet, free for a while at least from the shackles of the Capitol’s factories.  A chance to watch this year’s Games with careful indifference.

Inside the Handlind apartment in District Three, the sight of the last rays of light disappearing from the slightly grimy window gives no such respite.  It’s merely the beginning of another long night of fear.

Or it could be short. For who can predict the passage of Death?

“What’s she doing, Ma?”

The boy’s eyes are big in the gloomy room, the shadows under them enhanced by the slight flickering from the screen that the family huddle around. His mother glances at him for a second before turning her gaze back to the screen. Beside her, her husband grips her hand in both of his, his attention riveted just as unwaveringly on the television.