Calm Before The Storm {Finnick Odair}

Bird on a Spit

The group of them ran through the marshland, mud and mulch squelching under their feet, breath coming out in steady pants. They could hear the screams from the blood bath continuing behind them. Soon it would be over and the cannons would begin, then they could ascertain just how many had been slaughtered.

Hebe could imagine the careers, wildly swinging their swords, lopping off the heads of tributes. She remembered Dean's blank stare, his head rolling on the floor. Then it hit her. Niamh may not know. How could she? They were out of sight before the games began. She tapped the girl on the shoulder, slowing her pace. Niamh turned to her, eyes wide with alarm, relaxing when she saw it was just her ally.

"Yeah?" Niamh stared at her, confused by her sudden grave expression.

"Dean, he... he stepped off the pedestal. Before the cannon. I'm sorry."

The girl's face dropped, a mixture of regret and sorrow churning in the depths of her eyes.

"I figured that was who it was. I hoped it wasn't though. He knew he could never make it. I just wished I could've protected him." Tears started falling from her eyes, and Hebe reached out and hugged her, Luca looking on in sadness at the pair of them. They broke apart, Niamh sniffling slightly, eyes red.

"We should keep moving," She suggested, "It would be good to get to higher ground before nightfall."

It already appeared to be late afternoon, Hebe looked up to see the sun struggling to force its rays through a thick clump of clouds. It wasn't the real sun though, not the real clouds, just a trick by the gamemakers to make the arena feel more real. She looked back to the trees that lay ahead, following her two allies forward into the swampy wilderness.

The same trees she had seen from her pedestal continued, twisted, gnarly, unnatural. They didn't have much foliage, only a few brown leaves hanging from grey branches. The rest of their vegetation had fallen to the ground, composted by worms and bugs. Tigris had been right about the environment, the air was hot and muggy and flies buzzed around them constantly. She could see Luca waving his hand about, trying to swat them away from himself, but to no avail.

They continued walking but so far they had not spotted any fresh water, only muddy pools coated in a thick layer of algae. Hebe prayed that she had managed to pick up some kind of water bottle from the cornucopia, otherwise lugging such a heavy backpack around with her would've been pretty much futile.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a cannon. Then another. Then another. Each one echoing through the group just like the first they had heard, the one that signified the start of the games. They all stopped moving, counting how many had died in the bloodbath.

"I counted 8." Luca piped up, Niamh and Hebe both nodding in agreement.

8 wasn't that high of a number, especially considering one was already dead before the cannon went off. The careers would be itching for blood, for them the games were not only about winning, but killing as many as possible. They were known for hunting down other tributes, even squabbling between them who would be the one to deliver the killing blow.

The group kept walking for a short while, no one choosing to discuss further the deaths at the bloodbath. Eventually they reached a small clearing, deciding that it would be a good place to spend the night.

Hebe sat down next to a tree, her backpack beside her. She dragged it onto her lap and opened the zip at the top, searching through it for anything of use.

Inside she found a spool of rope, a small serrated knife, two boxes of dry crackers, matches, some bruised apples, a roll-up sleeping bag, and right at the bottom, two canteens. She screwed open one of the lids, and it was empty. She let out a groan, opening the other, nearly bursting into tears at the sight of cool, fresh water.