Always

Nice Throw

We all continue to lie on our backs in silence until Peeta makes a vague gesture upward and says, "Mon-hees." My eyes flit up to the trees above us and sure enough, monkeys. I've never seen a monkey before, but 'monkey' is the first word that comes to my mind when I gaze at the furry creatures. About half the size of a human with fuzzy orange fur. They study us as we study them, and that's how it is for the next five minutes. Exchanging gazes between ourselves and the monkeys above us.

We crawl until we leave the jungle, coming out onto the narrow strip of beach and then on to the water.

The moment my skin comes into contact with the water, I jerk back like it bit me. Like salt in a wound. I can now fully appreciate the phrase. But in the brief second my hand was in the water, I also felt the sensation of drawing out. Gritting my teeth, I place my hand in the water again, and though the initial pain is nearly blinding and almost causes me to pass out it slowly begins to diminish. I watch as a milky white substance pours from the blisters on my hands, the pain ebbing the longer my hand stays in the water.

I unbuckle the belt from my waist and peel off my jumpsuit. It's worthless anyways, and looks like someone used it for target practice with a machine gun. I toss it aside and am left in only my underclothes, which for some reason are not damaged. A white tank top over a white bra with matching white underwear, though they are made like a pair of very tight, very short shorts.

I vaguely wonder what the Capitol thinks of my baby bump. With the jumpsuit on, it's concealed. But with just my underclothes on, the small bump is visible.

I continue to ease myself into the water. Inch by inch. Step by step.

I sink into the water until my knees are submerged. I look to my left and see that Peeta has followed my example and gotten into the water as well. The water is just under his chest and his eyes are shut tight. Despite all the pain I'm in, I know that I actually got off easily compared to Peeta and Finnick. Finnick is the worst off. He hasn't even moved from his place on the beach, not even going near the water.

I submerge until just my neck is above the water, and I take Peeta's hand. His eyes open and meet mine, and it's like we reach a mutual decision without words. Simultaneously, both of us submerge completely. It's the worst pain yet, but I suffer through it, knowing that it's drawing out the poison. I snort water through my nostrils to clear my sinuses and gargle more than once to clear my throat.

When I resurface I still feel terrible, but I'm not in agonizing pain, so I consider it an upgrade. Peeta and I move out of the water to help Finnick. Though some feeling is returning to my leg, the muscles in my arms still spasm sporadically. I can't drag Finnick to the water. Besides, the pain might kill him, and I like Finnick Odair very much alive.

Peeta cuts away Finnick's jumpsuit and together we turn him one hundred eighty degrees. We repeat the same process with Finnick that we used, slowly sliding him into the water inch by inch. First we just put his feet in. Wait a few minutes. Up to midcalf. Wait another few minutes. Up to mid thigh. When we submerge him until the water is at his waist, he begins to stir, a pained moan escaping him.

I cringe at the sound of him crying out in pain. It's in this situation that I realize just how vulnerable we are. All of our weapons are lying on the beach.

"I'm going to go tap a tree," I announce, thinking of all the running we've done. We need to rehydrate. I need the spile. The spile! My fingers quickly move to my belt, and I sigh in relief when I feel the cool metal, still tied to my waist.