𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 || Narnia x The Hunger Games Crossover

Chapter Twelve

A/N: A number of people have been speculating about how many victors there will be, so I thought I'd jump on here just to clear up that there will indeed only be *one* victor of the 225th Games. I'm not personally fond of fanfics that take the ending of THG canon, especially because it carries a lot of weight, and I don't want to cheapen that in any way. I once read a fic where all four main characters survived, and as nice as that may sound, I felt very cheated by the false suspense it had put me through over which of them would die, so in this story I have aimed to fulfill the promise given on the outset. Twenty four go in, only one comes out. Happy Hunger Games~

xXx

CHAPTER TWELVE

Lucy stepped away from the wall before her rational mind caught up, his name leaving her mouth in a breath half-voiced.

"Caspian?"

The boy's head snapped up and dark eyes locked onto her.

Real.

Alive.

But his expression shifted in an instant from surprise to panic, hand flying out to stop her before she took another step.

She froze, skin tingling as he glanced over his shoulder, strong profile silhouetted against grey stone as his eyes flashed, and voices rang over the desert, calling, taunting.

"You're not getting off that easy, Telmar!"

"Hey, did you see where he went?"

Eustace grabbed Lucy's arm and dragged her back behind cover as Caspian pressed himself against the ledge and shot her an apologetic glance.

"Careers," hissed Eustace. "He led them straight to us."

Jill clutched his arm, eyes round as saucers, but Lucy only glanced back to Caspian, silhouetted chest rising and falling as boots pounded closer and then stopped a ways off, maybe a dozen yards by the sound of it.

"I thought he went into the forest," barked a boy, and Lucy's chest stuttered when she recognized Peter's honey-rich voice.

"Oh, great, you lost him again," gasped a girl, harsh and raspy from running. "You should have just killed him when you had the chance!"

"You think I wasn't trying? He's good, I told you!"

"Well now he's disarmed, you didn't have to let him get away!"

"I didn't let him."

"Suit yourself," spat the girl. "We haven't made a kill in two days, and you, if I recall correctly, haven't made any. You going soft or something, Wolfsbane? Forget all your training?"

"I told you," growled Peter, "I was busy. And twelve-year-olds shouldn't count, anyway, so we're even."

"I did that girl a mercy. Now she doesn't have to sweat out here like the rest of us."

Peter grunted in what might actually have been disgust, and Gael's tiny body flashed into Lucy's mind. So this must be Edith. That made sense, considering how familiar they sounded with each other.

"Maybe I'll settle for the runt."

"Hey!" another voice snapped, and Lucy's eyebrows rose.

Up until that point, she'd assumed it was only the District Two pair after Caspian, but now she moved just enough to peer through a jagged split in the outcropping, up between the dusty crags concealing her from view.

The Twos stood with their backs to her, Peter's hand in his straw-blond mop, Edith twirling her spear, dark ponytail swishing down to the small of her back. But between them and a few yards further away stood another boy, sunlight splashing over scruffy black hair and a sharp, pale face, stumbling back a step with a metallic rasp as his sword flashed into his hand.