𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 || Narnia x The Hunger Games Crossover

Chapter Ten

The sun slipped into the western half of the sky, afternoon heat beating down onto open wasteland by the time Lucy finally found a shallow stream at the bottom of a steep ravine, and nearly passed out from relief.

She'd been suppressing the fear that she might never find water in this place, sweat slicking her back and dripping down her chin as she climbed down into the welcome shade and splashed her face with impossibly fresh, cool water, gathering a handful and drinking greedily.

By the time she finished, she was wet all down her front, but she couldn't bring herself to care. If it poisoned her, at least she would die here instead of walking another hour in this heat.

She heaved her bag off her shoulders, unsticking her shirt from her back and pulling off her boots and socks to dip her burning feet into the stream. A sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting her muscles relax.

Not a single tribute had crossed her path since she'd left the District Seven pair behind, and that had been hours ago.

"Don't stick too close," Digory said again in her head, "clean water is where you'll be most likely to meet other tributes."

"Just ten minutes," she muttered. The first time she'd spoken aloud in the arena.

Had it been caught on camera? What would the sponsors think of a girl who talked to herself?

It's not as if there's anyone else to talk to.

She glanced around, studying the jagged rock walls in search of the cameras that must be there... somewhere. But the gamemakers had outdone themselves, the rock face unbroken, nothing but nature surrounding her, and eventually she turned back to her bag, unzipping it to investigate the contents.

From the brown backpack she pulled a packet of crackers, dried apple slices, a spool of twine, an empty water bottle that she quickly filled and capped, some empty resealable bags, and a small first aid kit with bandages and tape and disinfectant.

Not bad, for a small bag.

Susan's arrow stuck out of the side pocket where she'd tucked it, red feathers a singular splash of color against the endless grey and tan.

At least here a few scraggly plants grew along the water, sticking out of cracks in the stone, but this arena seemed to be a very dry and arid place.

The slightest tickle against her toe made her jump, yanking her feet out of the water as a school of minnows scattered.

Just fish.

She sighed.

Well, at least there are fish.

It took several moments for her heart to calm again.

At every tiny movement, a weapon could fly out of nowhere, her nerves constantly pricked for danger. At least some company might have taken the edge off, but that certainly wasn't happening now.

How would Caspian even find her?

She could wait here, hide, try to spot him, but that was no more likely than spotting any other tribute. Did he even know which way she'd gone?

No matter how many times she puzzled it out, there seemed to be no good answer.

Her rippling reflection gazed up from the clear stream, no Capitol makeup to hide her plain, pale face now, entirely unremarkable; flushed cheeks she'd tugged at in school washrooms as if she could carve them into gentle high-boned shapes like her classmates, thin lips that would never look like Anne Featherstone's, almost invisible eyebrows without Emerald's expert pencil-work. Far from Swanwhite, far from her dreams on the balcony in that moment when anything had seemed possible.