𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝟎𝟓. 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

— 𝐜𝐚𝐢𝐮𝐬 —

━━━━━━ ☽【❖】☾ ━━━━━━

The games had been ongoing for five weeks, and at this point I was starting to question whether they were ever going to end. It was already the longest game in history and there were still thirteen survivors. In four weeks time, only one child had succumbed to hypothermia. I mentally began to recount the list of casualties as it had become habit over the years.

District Three: Xavier and Electra, both slaughtered by muttations.
District Four: Marlowe, shredded by muttations.
District Five: Edison, stabbed at the cornucopia by Romulus.
District Five: Joule, strangled by Lilac.
District Six: Mercedes, died by frostbite—alone.
District Seven: Kane, killed by Rex.
District Seven: Lilac, head bashed in by Romulus.
District Eleven: Clementine, stabbed at the cornucopia by Rena.
District Twelve: Dirk, killed by Lux at the cornucopia.
District Twelve: Sage, killed by Halo at the cornucopia.

Esmé yawned as she continued to watch the screen from our living quarters. Although there was still a crowd gathered in the Capitol square to watch the games live, we'd chosen a quieter location to make undisturbed observations.

"They've spent four weeks holed up in another cave," Esmé complained with a high-pitched whine. "I thought at least by now our little Royal would have let us see some of that wrath she spoke so highly about."

"Why would she?" I asked, lifting my brow as I glanced over at the escort. "She's got the kid by her side and hope."

"Hope for what?" Esmé asked unenthusiastically. "It's no surprise that all of Panem heard their little speech about escaping the games. If only they knew that the arena security' has improved since the fifty-eighth games, they'd realize that they might as well turn on each other."

"They're kids," I tried to correct her, as I'd done several times over. "They're not soldiers."

"District two is having no problems eliminating the competition," Esmé countered. "That Romulus boy's got the most kills on the board. Why can't—"

"Why can't Juneaux be more like him?" I asked, finishing her question. "Did you ever stop to use that brain of yours—buried somewhere under all that hairspray and bobby-pins—that Juneaux doesn't actually want to win the games?"

"Why wouldn't she?" Esmé genuinely didn't understand. "She'll be given riches beyond whatever she could imagine and reputable fame. You understand, you've done it. It's almost like you're one of us."

I bit my tongue, keeping my thoughts to myself as I'd otherwise say something I might regret. Although Esmé had moments of being tolerable, she was still raised on the Capitol's virtues. Nothing would change her mind, and I'd stopped trying years ago.

"She scored a twelve for crying out loud," Esmé insisted. "A perfect score. Clearly, she has something to prove. And what about that warning? 'Beware my wrath'. I had goosebumps for the next ten minutes."

"It wasn't a war cry. It was a warning to stay away," I clarified her intention. "She'll do what it takes to keep the kid alive, I've got no doubt about that. But she's not going to take a life unless she has to."

"But she does have to," Esmé reemphasized her point. "That's the entire objective of the games."

"And I'd be a fool to think she won't escape the games unscathed, but there's a reason they've been left alone for four weeks," I countered. "If the gamemakers wanted them dead, they would've forced the two groups together."