Snowdrop

Chapter 18

I clear my throat, spitting blood again, and Bailey helps me to my feet. The stream of blood has slowed to a steady trickle now, but I can feel my nose swelling. I'll sound like an idiot for the next couple of days.
"Are we all calm now?" Bailey says as we walk back to the group.
Ember's head tilts up for just a second, catches on my face, and he looks away quickly. His cheeks flush crimson.
"How's your nose?" Haymitch asks, wincing slightly.
I shrug, crumpling the cloth in my hand and swiping the back of my hand across my face. "It'll be all right."
Cella throws another anxious glance at Ember, then crouches on the ground by the fire. "I think the meat's a little burnt, but that's all right. If Ember agrees to the plan, then we can have some lunch and then get to it. I don't suppose we've got anything other than this, do we?"
A quick search of the backpacks rewards us with nothing. Just as we settle down to eat, there's a chime overhead and a silver parachute floats through the trees towards us. Bailey pounces forward, tearing away the fabric to reveal several large, soft rolls and a slip of paper.
"Treat yourself, you're doing well!" she reads, then tilts her face to the sky and waits for the cameras to focus on her. "Thank you, Acacia."
The rolls are delicious, soft and still warm. We fill them with meat, and it's the first substantial meal any of us have had for days. Cella turns the second rabbit on the spit and says, "We might as well eat everything now. No point in letting it spoil and getting sick off bad food, even if none of us will be here for much longer."
By the time we're finished, the sun is sitting high in the sky and I judge it to be about noon. Ember rubs his greasy fingers on his trousers and clears his throat. "Yeah, all right. If Melia agrees to the plan, then so do I," he says, his voice flat.
"Well, that settles it," says Haymitch, and he runs a hand through his hair. "Should we wait until tonight, when they're asleep, or go now and catch the Careers in the light of day?"
"I think we should go now," replies Cella, "so if they've been tracking us, unlikely as it is, they don't catch us after dark. And we'll be hungry later, so we should go while we've still got full stomachs."
We slowly pack up our gear, and I think we're all realising that in the next few days all but one of us will be dead. The Games are nearly over, and as I zip up my pack, there's an air of finality about it that leaves me feeling strangely sad.
Cella hauls her pack and quiver onto her shoulders, heaves a sigh and says, "Well, that's us then. Let's go catch some Careers."
We trudge off through the forest, always keeping the mountain at our backs. Occasionally a bird flutters overhead or a rodent scurries across the ground, but we're mostly undisturbed.
"Wonder if they're avoiding us deliberately," Cella says.
"Why would they?" Haymitch responds. "They don't know we're in an alliance, with the exception of Ember and Melia. They might think we're in completely different parts of the arena."
And we dissolve into silence again. It's a good half-day's walk from our camp to the Cornucopia, but we keep up good pace. By late afternoon we're hot and sweaty, but we continue walking. Cella decides to lighten the mood with bad jokes and songs.
"Hey Melia! What do you call someone who creates earthquakes in the arena?"
I sigh. "What?"
"A Gameshaker!" Cella prods me with her bow. "Huh? Huh? Uhh... what's black and white and annoying?"
I can almost hear Bailey roll her eyes. "A mockingjay?"
"What? No. A cow, silly," Cella says, as though it's obvious.
"Please shut up," Haymitch sighs, "you're doing my head in."
Ember, who has stayed quiet almost all day, slowly makes his way over to me. "Listen, I – uh – I'm sorry about what happened earlier. I didn't mean to hit you, I swear."
I shrug. "It's fine. It's my own fault. But be warned, I'll get you back for it." I flash him a sly grin and punch him in the arm.
"Hey!" He retaliates by catching my arm and pulling me into a headlock. I squeal, swiping wildly at him, but he just laughs and runs his knuckle across the top of my head. I squirm, trying to bat him away, then the sound of trumpets blares throughout the arena. Ember snaps upright, dropping his arms, and I pull away to look at the sky.
"Congratulations to the final eight tributes," Claudius Templesmith announces, his voice echoing all around us. "As this is a very special Hunger Games, we would like to commemorate the occasion by inviting you all to a feast. You are all very hungry, and we would like to be generous hosts. You will find a large table filled with delicacies at the Cornucopia at dawn, and I can assure you, none of you will want to miss it."
We're left staring at the sky, waiting for him to continue, but there's nothing more. Haymitch casts a look around the group. "Perfect timing, isn't it?" he says grimly.
"We should decide now," says Cella. "Do we go like we were planning to already, or leave the other three to fight it out?"
We're silent for a moment, deliberating. Eventually I say, "Well, we can't guarantee any fighting. We've not heard from the girl from Five, and Blaze and Rouge are likely teaming up. They'll take everything if we don't go, and we don't know how many sponsors we have. We're outskilled by the Careers, certainly, but they're outnumbered and quite possibly injured. I say we go."
The others nod in agreement, and we continue on our way. As darkness falls, so does the temperature, and before long I'm forced to pull out my sock-gloves and jacket. Our boots crunch through the underbrush, and I have to remind myself every few minutes that no, the forest will not come alive with killers. There's almost no-one left now. No-one left.
Haymitch strikes a match and creates a makeshift torch. The orange glow really only succeeds in illuminating our grim expressions.
"I swear, the Gamemakers are deliberately trying to freeze us to death," mutters Cella, shivering.
"Well, at least they're making us feel at home," I joke. "We're used to the cold by now."
I wonder if my mother is sitting by the fire now, a teacup clenched in her fingers. I can see Kaitlynn, too, tucking Posy into bed, whispering stories of talking animals, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. Pulling the blankets right up to her chin. Perhaps not, though. It's summer, back home, and chances are the sun is only just beginning to slide below the horizon.
I heave a sigh, my breath creating a white cloud in the air before me. I just want to go home now. I'm so cold and so tired, and even the unattractive brown sludge we'd normally eat seems delicious in comparison to slimy tinned meat and stale bread. It seems like months ago that I was sitting beside Ember, eating that tin of corned beef, but it can't have been more than two weeks.
There's still an hour before dawn when we reach the edge of the forest, but Haymitch blows out the torch. We sit in a tight-knit circle, hidden in a clump of bushes and long grass, and set to work formulating a plan.
"We can't all go in at once, can we?" Cella whispers. "We should go one or two at a time."
"Yeah, that would make sense. The first to go would be the distraction, but there should be someone close behind just in case they're in any danger. The next few would grab as much food as we can," Haymitch says.
"Well, who's the fastest? And preferably the most skilled with both close and long-range weaponry?"
Bailey swallows hard, and I feel her reach out to take my hand. "That... that would be Melia."
"So you go first?" Haymitch asks, looking at me.
I feel my cheeks grow pale. "Oh – oh... I don't know..."
"No! No, of course not." Ember reaches across and takes my other hand. "She's too young."
"We'll make sure there's someone close behind her," Haymitch says. "And she's proven she's no pushover."
I cast an anxious glance at my brother, then I grit my teeth and nod determinedly. "He's right. I can look after myself. I didn't get a seven in training for nothing." I laugh, but it's hollow.
Ember looks at me for a moment, as if considering telling me off, then his face crumples and he wraps his arms around me. "I'll get you out of that feast alive, I promise."
"So, Melia, then Ember?" Cella says. "Then Bailey, because you've got a huge backpack so you'll be able to carry as much food as possible."
By now, the first silver streaks of daylight are beginning to spill over the horizon. Night seems to be going much faster, and I wonder if the Gamemakers are messing with that, too.
Spirits will be running high in District Twelve. Nobody ever really makes it this far, let alone all of our tributes. Posy won't be allowed to watch, but my mother and Kaitlynn will be glued to the television. Watching. Waiting with bated breath.
I unzip my pack and pull out my knife, weighing the weapon in my hands. As a knot forms in my stomach, I sit up on my knees and peer out across the plain. It's more of a meadow now, as if the Gamemakers have changed the entire landscape. Fluffy clouds float across the dull grey-blue sky, flowers spring up from the ground and a bird perches on the top of the Cornucopia. It gives a single, shrill whistle, and then flies away as quickly as it came.
Then the ground before the Cornucopia splits open and slowly, a large table rises up from the hole. It's laden high with the most wondrous food. Cakes, rolls, loaves of bread, preserves, jellies, meat, canisters of soup, plates of vegetables. I wait, digging my nails into my palms until the skin is etched with angry half-moons, then I take a deep breath. "I love you, Ember."
As soon as the table's risen fully, I'm off like a whippet, sprinting out across the plain. My lungs burn with the fresh morning air and my pack smacks against my back.
I'm almost at the table. Almost there.
But then something slams into me, knocking me sideways. My head hits the table and stars explode behind my eyes.
A strangled cry forces its way from my throat. Tears, salty and hot, burn beneath my eyelids as the stars clear and I see my attacker.
"Rouge." I half spit, half choke out her name. Her blonde hair tickles my face as she holds me down, a cruel smile etched into her features. She wipes the tears away roughly, scratching my face with her dirt-caked nails.
"Well hello there, Seam Girl. Is that what you call it? The Seam? Stop crying, you look ugly when you cry."
I whimper, my eyes wide and frightened. All bravado I might have had is gone. Sizzled out like a match. Let me go, just let me go. Please. I don't want to die.
"Oh, you look so scared. It's almost cute. Almost as sweet as you and your brother. Where is he? Shouldn't he be protecting his widdle baby thithter from the big bad Career? Hm? No? I suppose he's too cowardly to come for you. That's a shame." She feigns pity, sticking out her bottom lip and quirking her eyebrows. "I'd almost feel sorry for you if you weren't so irritating. You're not quite right, are you? A little bit..." She lifts her hand and pretends to screw her finger into her head. "...loopy. Constantly clinging to that big brother of yours. Screaming. Whimpering. Weeping. Pathetic. You're not going to play, are you? No, I suppose I should've picked a better tribute to attack. I'm sure the Gamemakers would have sent some device in to take care of you. Blow you up, burn you alive... a pack of mutts to rip you to shreds, perhaps?"
"No!" I fight against her, but she digs her nails into my arms and I stop, screaming. Tears slide down my face and pool in my ears, but I can't wipe them away.
"You pretended to be brave, didn't you? So you could get sponsors. So you made your brother think you were a decent person. A person worth saving. But at every opportunity you had to prove yourself, you abandoned him. Because you're selfish. You're a coward. Like everyone else from your worthless district. I think, you little bitch, that I shall put you out of your misery. Goodnight!"
She reaches into the pocket of her coat. I see the gleam of metal in her hand.
"N-no, no! No, no, don't!"
The girl just grits her teeth and raises the knife. I gasp as she twists it into my chest. At first, I only feel the force of her attack, but then I feel an excruciating ripping. I open my mouth to scream but she aims a clean hit across my jaw.
My vision begins to fade.
Someone shouts. My name, I think.
But I'm not sure...
The girl's weight leaves my body, and I feel hands cupping my face. Fingers lacing in mine.

My mother sings to me. An old song.
A lullaby.
She sings me to sleep.