Calm Before The Storm {Finnick Odair}

Bugs

Her feet padded quietly along the concrete floor of the tunnel, axe held in a permanent combative position should she be ambushed by tributes. The zips on her suit remained unzipped, the cool air of the tunnel soothing on her exposed skin, a welcome contrast to the sweltering heat and sticky humidity of the swamp.

The overall lack of flies was also a pleasant change, although the droning hum of the insects did usually give her mind something to focus on instead of the threats of the arena.

The near silence was eerie, Hebe's life for the last few weeks had been constantly moving, always abuzz. But now all she heard was the squeaking of her leather shoes on the cold, grey concrete.

She yet again silently wished for company, for this was the first time she had been alone in the games. There was no longer anyone watching her back, no longer anyone to plot to murder, no longer anyone to mourn. Hebe was an empty vessel, a lone drifter, floating along concrete tunnels like a ghost, haunting the arena with all that she had seen and done.

Hebe walked through the tunnels for what could've been an age, no way of knowing what was going on on the surface, the thick layers of stone providing a sound proof barrier that even the cannons could not penetrate. That's what she thought anyway.

It also blocked her from the sun, from the time, from the feeling of the breeze on her face or the sound of squelching mud. All things she had become accustomed to in this place, all comforts that she hated to be ripped away from her. At first the tunnels had seemed like her salvation, but now they were a living nightmare, stretching on forever, never changing.

Maybe she'd never escape, she'd be stuck down here forever. It would be dehydration that got her, the thirst in her throat would transform into a ravenous need for water, one that would kill her. Her skin would dry up, her entire body withering until she eventually perished. Hebe had seen it happen in other games.

Soon these thoughts conjured a dryness in the back of her throat that just wouldn't go away, no matter how much she tried to cough her guts up. She laughed at how poetic it was, she was going to die from the first case of psychosomatic dehydration.

Just when she began to lose hope she reached a crossroads, two doors opposite each other, a ladder situated in the middle of the corridor leading out. Her first instinct was to rush up the ladder, escape the tunnels. But then she thought of what could be inside the rooms, imagining mountains of weapons and supplies. Without another thought she burst through the door on the left, desperate to find whatever lay inside.

But instead of anything useful, she was met with the sight of a girl. Her blonde hair was tousled and wild, her eyes beady and red, ringed with dark circles. She leaned over a boy, clutching him tightly, stroking his cheek and cradling him in her arms like a mother would her child. He was pale and looked cold, dead. He had a large jagged gash in his bicep, small indents circling it.

Then Hebe looked at his foot, a stark feeling of realisation taking hold of her as she observed the large hole in the ankle, the wound tinged a yellow-green colour. It was Ampere, dead from a wound that she had watched Verity inflict the day before. Hebe felt guilt wash over her, knowing that in some ways she had been an accomplice to his death.

The girl hunched over him must be Lilac. Her heart filled with pity at the sight of the damaged girl, so mentally ruined that she hadn't even acknowledged another presence in the room.

It was then that Hebe noticed the unnatural redness of her lips, the stream of blood dripping down her chin. She then looked back to his gash and the surrounding indents. Teeth marks.

Lilac had begun to cannibalise her dead district mate, had torn his flesh with her teeth, chewed and swallowed it, sent it down to her digestive system like she would any old meal.