Snowdrop

Chapter 12

My brother is strapped to a table, cut open by masked figures. My father, pale and sickly, takes his final breath. My little sister is taken away, sent to the Capitol to wait on future tributes. Scared and confused. Kaitlynn and Burnet are shot by Peacekeepers. My mother stops living, her face growing hollow and her limbs like sticks. I scream. I scream for them to come back, I scream for the Capitol to stop this, I scream for it all to end.
When I finally regain consciousness, I feel like someone's stepping on my windpipe. My throat is like sandpaper and a foul taste pervades my mouth. I prop myself up on my elbows, taking off the oxygen mask and testing the air for a few seconds. All seems to be fine, except the throbbing in my temple.
Ember is still unconscious beside me. A fine layer of snow has settled in his hair and eyelashes. I lean over and gently brush it away. I watch him for a few seconds. The creases between his brows are smoother, his whole face softened in sleep. He looks more like a boy than the young man he is.
My foot nudges something and I look down. A small square of paper, wet from the snow, the ink slightly smudged but still readable. A note from Acacia? I pick it up curiously.
It's the air. The Gamemakers created a poison that will target your lungs, quickly suffocating you. The other mentors and I were assigned with oxygen masks that contain the antidote for the poison. Only sponsor money could be used to send them out.
Keep going, you're doing brilliantly.
- A.
I swallow, folding up the paper and tucking it into my coat. So this new, cruel twist in the Games guaranteed at least one tribute would die. The Gamemakers are sick. It's one thing to throw in a pack of mutts or find a way to turn the arena against us to add to the fun, but it's another to give tributes no way of surviving.
I grit my teeth and open Ember's pack, flicking out the blanket and tucking it around him. He doesn't stir and I sit back against the tree with a sigh. While I wait for him to wake up I occupy myself with reordering our supplies and replenishing the bottles. I rewrap the bread in its plastic to try and stop it going stale, which is pointless since it's almost rock-hard anyway.
It's odd. While I've been away from him before, I'm so used to having Ember at my side. And he is, but he's so far away he might as well be back home in District 12. It reminds me of when I was six and he was so ill he wasn't at school for several weeks and had to stay in bed the whole time. He was snuffly and congested and aching. That first week was awful; he could hardly move and was almost always asleep. I spent so much of my time sitting with him, I would often skip dinner and fall asleep curled up at his side. Papa always carried me back to my own bed and tucked the blankets right up to my chin. "Snug as a bug in a rug," he whispered. "So you don't get sick yourself." But then he got sick himself and everything became awful.
I shake my head to clear the memory. What would Papa say now, if he saw us in the arena? Surely he would be willing us on. Not cheering, not shouting for either of us to win, but just silently, in his own way, telling us to come home. Telling us to make him proud.
"I'll make you proud, Papa," I whisper. "I'll make you so proud."
My arm starts to throb, reminding me of my wound. I unravel the bandage, cringing slightly as I see the cut. It's not especially bad and there's no sign of blood poisoning or infection, but I've always been squeamish. It doesn't seem to be bleeding much anymore, just sort of oozing a clear fluid, but still I cover it with a bandage once more. Thankfully the axe didn't go any deeper.
Then I sit back, picking at my nails. I wonder if Ember sat by me like this when I got sick. Helplessly watching as I fought some illness likely caught from friends at school. It's an awful feeling, knowing I can do nothing to help him. All I can do at this point is wait.
I watch the sun makes its lazy arc across the sky. My stomach rumbles a few times but I do my best to ignore it. If I eat without Ember there to tell me to stop, I know I'll just have everything and that's not fair.
The temperature begins to drop late afternoon and I slip Ember's gloves on even though they're too big. It starts snowing and I wrap the blanket tighter around him. He sniffs slightly but doesn't stir. That's good though. He's almost coming round.
With early evening comes the anthem and the death recaps. No fallen tributes today, but I suspect not many are conscious yet. As the music finishes with a flourish, Ember jolts awake and sits up with a sharp cry, his feet kicking at the snow. He looks around, sees me and snatches me up in a bone-crushing embrace. I feel his hand move to peel the oxygen mask away.
"You were... you were dying..." he says, sounding slightly delirious. "...And then they took Posy and Kaitlynn and Burnet and Mom..." he trails off. His voice is high-pitched and wheezy, like he's got a bad cold.
"It's just a nightmare," I whisper. "We're fine. We're fine."
He pulls away and looks me straight in the eye. "Are you okay? How long was I out?"
"I... I don't know. The Gamemakers poisoned the air and I only woke up this morning. Nobody died today though."
He wrinkles his nose. "Trust them to pull a stunt like that. If nobody's dead today, unless there's been an especially good fight somewhere, we can almost guarantee the audience will be bored by morning. Let's have dinner and keep moving."
"But it's getting dark. Won't it be better if we wait till morning?" I ask as he spreads out the remainder of the food.
He shakes his head. "Not if we've been in the same place for so long. Someone could have tracked us and I don't feel comfortable staying in one area too long. Here, eat this." He hands me a chunk of bread and half a can of corned beef.
It's a little hard to choke down, cold, slimy meat and dry bread, but neither of us complains. We eat in silence, then Ember shakes the snow from the blanket, rolls it up into the pack and helps me to my feet. After a few minutes of walking it's evident the Gamemakers' poison has taken its toll on us. You can hear the wheezing in Ember's breath, and we're panting after little more than a few moments. My chest feels like it's on fire and I keep having to clear my throat. I'm certain the cold air isn't helping matters one bit. 
A little while longer and I notice I'm gripping the sides of my coat, my shoulders back as though I'm trying to force more air into my lungs. I've seen several kids do this in winter and summer. They're the ones who are doubled over, gasping for air whenever we're made to run at school. The ones who seem to wear so many layers of clothing when it's cold. The ones who you'll see coughing, coughing, clutching at their chests, quivering. Then they're not at school the next day. You see their siblings or their parents, which their swollen eyes and grim expressions, and you just know.
"How long do you think we'll be affected by the poison?" I ask eventually.
Ember looks at me, his expression pained. He shrugs. "No way of knowing. Hopefully not much longer though, the Gamemakers won't want us unable to fight for too long."
He's right. Anything to stop the audience getting a good show is a bad thing. Suddenly Ember puts out his arm and I bump into it. He presses a finger to his lips, shushing me.
"What was that?" he whispers.
I shake my head, my eyes wide. There's a sharp crack, the sound of a branch underfoot, about ten metres away. I pull out my knife, not sure if I'm ready to attack again but knowing I might have to. Ember creeps forward, his arm still stretched out protectively. Snap! Snap! The tribute curses and Ember hurries behind the nearest tree and I follow, crouching in front of him. His hand grips the fabric of my coat and I feel him trembling as the tribute comes closer.
I clamp my lips together to silence my breathing. The tribute mutters to herself – I hear now she's female – but I can't quite catch what she's saying. Perhaps badmouthing the Capitol. She's just feet away now. My whole body tenses.
Just as the tip of her boot steps out from behind our tree I leap at her with a fearsome yell, my knife raised ready to strike. She screams, dropping a bundle of sticks and slipping backwards, her arms lifted in defence.
"Aah – oh my God, Melia! You nearly stabbed me in the neck!"
"Bailey?" I stumble back, my hand falling to my side. She scowls then gets to her feet. I barely have time to react before she gives me several sharp thwacks. "Ow! Cut it out! I thought you were another tribute."
She rolls her eyes, but Ember's laughing. "Known each other nearly ten years and you try and kill her. Nice going, Melia."
"And you can shut up," I snap, but I'm overjoyed at finding Bailey again.
She beams. She's doesn't seem to be much thinner since we started the Games and I wonder if she managed to find a source of food. She picks up her bundle of sticks and sets about making a small fire. We warm our hands for a few minutes before Ember speaks. "What were you doing these past few days?"
"Just wandering. I ran into a couple of tributes but they were just young. Too scared to do anything but run away." Bailey shrugs, tossing another stick onto the fire. A spark springs from the flames and lands in the snow with a sizzle.
"Did you kill anyone?"
Bailey shakes her head. "You know that's not how I am. Why, did you?"
I bite my lip, remembering the girl from 5. "He didn't. I did. I didn't mean to, she attacked me and I just..."
She looks down but doesn't pry further. "Doesn't matter. I've got lots of food that we can cook up. My bag was full of tins of food and almost nothing else. I also found a patch of berries, you remember those ones called glimmer berries? The pink ones that grow near the fence in winter. I guess I've been really lucky and I haven't had to go hungry."
She pulls out three cans of stew and we warm them over the fire. Bailey just chuckles as Ember and I pull out our spoons and start eating. "Let me guess, you got food from sponsors."
Ember decides to keep watch. I'm reluctant to have him stay awake by himself again, but he insists. "I was unconscious way longer than you, remember? I don't need sleep."
I don't even try arguing with him. But still I curl hard up against him before I drift off.
I'm woken by a cannon. Ember tenses beside me, as though deciding whether we need to move or not. Bailey just looks round and shrugs.
"Nineteen left," she says.
"Nineteen? How do you know that? The poison in the air knocked us out."
She shakes her head. "No. I got an oxygen mask in time. Eighteen died the first day, another two the day after that. Seven died on the third day, and this one just now. The last boy from Four and a girl from Two..." she starts counting them off on her hands "... the last ones from Three and Nine... a boy from Five, a girl from Six and Eight. Haymitch's still alive as far as I know."
"Unfortunately Rouge is still alive then."
There's a scream, so far away it's barely audible. Another cannon fires. We look around just as a hovercraft retrieves two bodies about a kilometre away.
"Good fight," Ember says. "Even though it means others are on the move again hopefully the Gamemakers will leave us alone for a while."
After a few moments there's a third cannon. We watch as another hovercraft picks up a body in the same area as the other two.
"Mutts?" I suggest, but Bailey shakes her head.
"I don't think so. Too much intervention from the Gamemakers makes the audience get bored quickly, and we don't want that, do we?"
We wait for any more cannons, but there are none. "Wonder who those three were," Ember says.
"No way of knowing until tonight," Bailey replies. "And even though he never tried endearing himself to us I can't help hoping it's not Haymitch."
I don't think it's him though. He's not the sort to go running straight into a fight, all guns blazing. Almost nobody from District 12 is like that in the Games. He's strong and intelligent, too. He can defend himself.
"We should get going," Ember says, getting to his feet. "I'm betting that wasn't three tributes simultaneously destroying each other, nor was it the Gamemakers intervening, which means there's someone else uncomfortably close to us."
I have to bit my lip to stop myself laughing. I've just realised how many times we've said that since the start of the Games. Let's keep going. There's other tributes around.
We set off at a brisk pace, moving away from where we saw the bodies being picked up. As we walk, Ember finds a large stick and starts scraping the tip into a sharp point. I forgot he'd been walking around weaponless all this time. Then he hands back the knife and starts messing about, thrusting the makeshift spear into invisible targets and swishing it through the air. He even makes up a silly song.
"We're in the Hunger Games! Where everyone goes hungry! We're in the Hunger Games! Where the snow is nice and crunchy! H-u-n-g-e-r, Hunger Games! G-a-m-e-s-s, Hunger Games! We're in the Hunger Games. Where are we?"
"The Hunger Games?" I ask.
"We're in the Hunger Games!" he responds with disturbing enthusiasm. With a final, triumphant yell, he lunges forward and whacks a tree with the spear.
"You're an idiot," Bailey replies, hitting him on the arm. "And that's not how you spell 'Games'."
He just flashes her a grin. "Well look at who's a smarty-pants. I thought I was the one who had the brains here."
"Nah, you're the brawn. And Melia's... Melia's the one that's ever so slightly crazy." 
She laughs, but I don't take it as a joke. A pang of jealousy ripples through me. He's my brother, and while Bailey might be my best friend it's only ever been Ember and I who share jokes. We don't extend them to others. Seeing Ember and Bailey laughing their heads off makes me feel like I'm being left out and I don't like it.
"I'm not crazy," I mutter, trailing behind them. I flip my knife over in my hand, pretending to be incredibly interested in the serrated blade. But I'm listening to their conversation, feeling guilty but annoyed at the same time because they've left me out and I've never been left out before...
Something crunches behind me. I whip around, brandishing my knife. Is it a deer? Ember and Bailey have stopped laughing behind me but I don't turn.
"Who's there?" I ask, as though whoever it is will answer. Of course they don't.
The crunching grows louder and I recognise the sound of boots through the snow. The footsteps are light, as though the person is trying to hide the fact that they're following us. There's a pause then the crunching continues.
"Melia? What's wrong?" Bailey asks. I don't say anything, instead shifting my gaze from left to right, trying to seek out who it is that's coming towards us.
A girl bursts through the trees, bow raised. Her dark hair swings wildly as she pulls back and arrow and decides whether or not to shoot us. But after a few seconds, when Ember runs and sweeps me behind him protectively, she seems to relax. Her fingers still hold the arrow to the string, but she lowers the bow and eyes us less warily.
"You three. I know you," she says, and I hear the tremor in her voice. "You're from District Twelve, aren't you?"
Ember nods. "Yes. And you're from Ten. You got an eight, didn't you?" I peer under his arm at the girl. Her cheeks seem to redden and she shrugs.
"I guess so. I didn't really deserve it though. I just shot some arrows and tried to look impressive." We watch each other for a few moments, unsure of what to say next. But then I remember something, from the first day of the Games.
"You saved me, didn't you?" I ask, and it finally dawns on me. "The boy from Three was going to kill me, but you saved me. None of the Careers worked with archery and they always show off their skills in training." The girl nods, confirming my suspicions. "But I don't even know your name," I mumble.
"Cella," she replies. "Don't suppose then, you could repay me for saving your life and strike up an alliance?" She flashes a small grin.
I feel Ember tense slightly. Strike up an alliance? We don't know her, never even spoke to her until now, even if she did save me. It's Bailey who finally agrees, but you can hear the hesitation in her voice. "All right. We're allies, then." The two move forward to shake on it. 
And just like that, we're pulled into an alliance that we know we'll have to break at some point if any of us wants to get home. I don't like extending our alliance to anyone from another district, much less someone who seems so handy with that bow, but then again, what could go wrong?

Author's Note
AHAHAHAHAHA MELIA U STOOPID. Sorry. This is what I did instead of finishing an essay for English. But it had to be done. Just dropping by to thank you all so much for almost 300 reads. Two months this has been up, and to know that people are coming back to read it again gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. Like I've been stabbed in the chest.