Author Games: Contest Entries

Task Three

It had been two hours since Ebony had heard a cannon fire. The sun had broken through the clouds for a brief moment on the new day, and cast a little light down onto her campsite. She took it to be a good sign, especially with everything that was to come.

A thick stump sat in the middle of her camp. She had spent an hour the night before carving a hole out of the middle. It had taken even longer to get the small, pathetic matches she'd dug out of her supplies to stay lit long enough to grab hold of her tinder. But now, in reward for her efforts, a fire crackled cheerily in that same hole--protected from the snow, hidden from the tributes, with a practically inexhaustible fuel source. Ebony had huddled close to it through the night, glad for the lifesaving heat it radiated. But now that morning had come, there was no time for even small comforts. She had work to do.

Hanging on a branch that dangled above her fire, Ebony's coat and shirt soaked up the warmth and began to dry. She sat on the edge of the stump, wearing nothing but a tank top to cover her torso. Goosebumps rose painfully on her skin, the bite of the cold wind making her body shiver. But there had been no other choice. Wet clothes would cause hypothermia and frostbite, and she needed to examine just how much damage the boiling water had done to her shoulder.

Ebony twisted her body around, trying to get a good look at the injury. There was very little pain now, much to her surprise. Only discomfort, and a stiffness when she rolled her shoulders or moved them above her head. Over her shoulder, Ebony could just make out the charred skin. Portions of it had been bleached a waxy white, and it rose from her skin like dragon's scales. Sickly yellow blisters sat contently among the wreckage, spreading across the burn like a virus. At the edges of the burn, her skin wrinkled and folded. Ebony felt that if she ran her fingers across it, the skin would disintegrate under her touch.

Never in her life had she seen anything like it before. Ebony's mind was whirring, gears turning with all their might as she wracked her brain for some sort of treatment. If there had been pain, she could press some freshly fallen snow to the wound. But there was no pain, no blood, no anything--almost like she didn't have a shoulder at all.

"Ebony!" Her name echoed through the otherwise silent morning. Ebony jumped, leaping to her feet and spinning around before the tribute could come any closer. A lopsided grin graced the features of the intruder, and as he approached, she could begin to make out who it was. Tall and clumsy, with hair that was just a bit too long for his face. His grin widened when he saw her, but the only thing she noticed was the glint of metal in his hands.

"Hey, yeah, Ebony!" With his free hand, he waved, walking towards her as if they were long lost friends. She watched him approach, never moving or taking her eyes off of him. Toby was big. Toby was strong. And this early in the Games, Toby was a threat.

His face flushed red when he was close enough to see what she was wearing. The knife slid blade first into the pocket of his pants. "I--uh--" Ebony watched his eyes flicker to the bag of supplies she had resting against a tree a few feet away. Toby cleared his throat, "Where did you get that?"

Her head tilted, perhaps not even a fraction of an inch, to the left. Ebony's eyes never left his face. "Cornucopia," she answered briefly.

The curtness of her answer made him uncomfortable. Toby shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. He glanced down at her chest for a moment before they returned to her face. "So..uh...we're allies, right? We're friends?"

Ebony was quick to correct him, "Allies." There are no friends in this hell-hole, she thought bitterly.

His head bobbed in agreement, "Allies. Good. Um..." Toby's shoes scraped at the snow. "Narian's injured."

Narian. Narian. The name meant nothing to Ebony. Narian could have been anyone in the arena. "Injured," she echoed-- if only for the sake of seeing where the conversation led.

"She tripped and cut her ankle pretty badly. We think it might be infected. I was wondering if you had--had anything that could help." Her mind drifted to earlier that morning, when she had first examined the contents of her bag. To her disappointment, there hadn't been much. A book of matches, a blanket, a water purifier...but nothing for injuries. Not a bandage, or even a packet of disinfectant.

Ebony shook her head, watching his face begin to fall, "I don't have any medical supplies."

Toby didn't believe her. She could see it in his eyes. He thought she was lying. Toby swallowed hard, his fingers twitching. "Ebony--please. I've got to keep her alive. If her leg gets any worse--"

"Ankle."

He looked statled, "What?"

Ebony's eyes narrowed, "You said it was her ankle." Something wasn't right.

He stayed quiet for a long time. He could no longer meet her gaze, staring down at the snow with such intensity she was surprised the earth didn't crack. When he did speak, his words were quiet, almost ashamed. "I'm really sorry, Ebony."

Then his fingers locked around her throat.

Her mouth fell open, a strangled gasp leaving her lungs before his grip stopped her breath short. Her hands flew to her, trying to pry his fingers away. Spots of color burst before her eyes, head growing painfully heavy. Ebony's nails dug into his skin, as she realized with horror that she could not get away. He meant to kill her, and his grip was like iron. Her lungs burned with the need for air, energy sucked out of her body as her fingers began to tingle with numbness.

A moment of serenity washed over her and suddenly, she stopped fighting. Her hands fell to her sides. Using the remainder of her strength, she reached out until she felt the sharp touch of metal. The knife. The knife he had put in his pocket.

Her body was shutting down, her movements slowing as she finally caught the weapon between her fingertips. She grabbed a hold of the hilt, almost grateful for the feeling of the metal biting her skin. Her body was going limp, strength failing her.

Ebony stabbed the knife through Toby's side. He screamed in agony, loosing his grip on her as the blade sank deeper into his body. She gasped for breath, the world returning to her with an icy clarity. Toby's hands covered the hilt, trying desperately to pull it out as he staggered back.

He yelled and his hand shot out to grab her shoulder. Burning pain poured through her, acid scalding her bones as his grip slid off. The skin of her burn sloughed off like butter, falling into the ground beside them.

Hot blood steamed on the ground, melting the snow.

Ebony was blind to the pain, adrenaline pumping through her. She yanked out the blade, warm blood spraying across her fingers. Ebony watched him writhe. She watched him suffer, and some small part of her felt satisfied by his pain. Anger bubbled up inside of her at his weakness. And she stabbed the blade through his eye--burying it as far as it would go.

The screaming ended.

His brain and heart stopped and when she pulled it out. This time, he stayed on the ground, motionless, and did not get up. Toby was dead.

Ebony's body shook with the very effort of breathing, her lungs greedily drawing in oxygen as she stared at the corpse of her ally. Sticky, warm blood ran down her arm in a never ending stream. She crouched down by his corpse, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him as far away as she could. For a moment, she almost felt remorse. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He's dead and I'm alive, she thought.

He's nothing now.