𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐋𝐋 𝐉𝐔𝐌𝐏 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑.
What District 2 victor, Saffron Creek, and prodigy, Finnick Odair, share is the very antithesis of what has been stolen from them. They test the edges of the rules that construct t...
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voice tricks . . . . .
Saffron is sure that there is nothing quite like the sensation of drowning. It is absurdly separate from choking because this is hopeless. When the mutant was wrapped around her throat, at least she had the hope for air. And the blood rain only arrived in droplets, manageable quantities at a time. But now, water rushes into her throat and nose, pushing out everything else, but bringing with it tremendous fear.
Her eyes are scalding. She is kicking, but she cannot see anything.
She is wrangled out of the water, yet she still can't breathe. Someone—Beetee—pounds her back and she heaves water up. Bleary-eyed, still, she searches for Katniss and finds her coughing surrounded by Johanna and Peeta.
She is breathing too fast as if trying to cleanse her nerves of the terrible feeling of impending death. She curses Snow's name, not entirely sure how she can serve his greater scheme if she's delivered to a premature grave underwater.
Finnick circles his palm against the inlet of her shoulder blades and scrapes the hair from her face.
"One, two, three," he counts. Slowly and naturally, her breathing matches his pace.
For a moment, she considers tackling the Mockingjay and throwing them both back into the water. Drowning them both.
No.
There are too many people, and she is not so eager for death. She has mulled over this problem so many times the thoughts are worn. She knows it's not efficient to dwell on this, but the singular directive she received was "Betray" and "Thwart the Mockingjay and the revolution."
Now, they sit on the beach. Saffron is still light-headed. Katniss looks pale. The wiry tree above them provides sparse shade. They list the remaining tributes.
"What are we going to do? Hunt them down?" Johanna scoffs.
"And now that the Cornucopia has been spun, we can't tell time until the wave or the tree," Saffron says.
They each shift uncomfortably, observing the sand. Saffron swallows.
Then.
"Katniss!" a voice shrieks.
She is on her feet instantly.
"Prim!" Her voice is guttural.
In succession, they perk up from the post-adrenaline slump they were steeping in, rising on sore muscles like prairie dogs emerging from tall grass. Katniss bolts towards the sound of the screaming voice.
"Help! Help!"
Saffron is mobile first, chasing after her.
"Katniss, wait!"
Primrose Everdeen's voice keens over the clearing that she and Katniss halt in. There is a single bird flying loops over their heads which Katniss traces with her eyes, jaw slack, and she looks on the verge of tears. She notches an arrow and the bird is dead. The yelling stops.
They share a horrified look.
Finnick crashes through the foliage. Peeta is on his heels and Johanna is last, jogging behind Beetee.
"You okay?" he asks.
She is about to nod.
"It hurts! Make it stop."
She is interrupted by the wails of Annie. Then her sister. Her throat seizes like it's the physical manifestation of a war between her logic and her carnal reaction. She, terribly, seizes when what she should do is obvious.
