Nothing Personal

Lucky - 16

Raylum was shattered. He'd stayed awake most of the night, even when Court was on watch, partially because he couldn't sleep. He'd heard a cannon go off, but he knew that Court thought he was sleeping so he didn't say anything. She often muttered to herself, words that he couldn't quite hear but which were clearly bitter.

He yawned widely, taking in oxygen. The morning was sweet and gentle, ideal weather back home, and a few clouds drifted idly over the sky. He'd made it to the second day. He'd studied enough tapes of the Games to know what would happen now; for a few days, nothing. All the tributes would be hiding or making themselves a base and not fighting each other. Then the Gamemakers would get bored and there'd be some kind of attempt to get them all closer together. Then this pattern would continue, getting more and more space between the Gamemakers' intervention while they went around interviewing families and filling up time.

He could imagine them interviewing his family now. His mother would stand there, stiff and silent, while his father raved about 'his boy' and making the district proud, conveniently forgetting that he'd practically forced him into volunteering. He wondered how Sasha was getting along. Was he proud of him? Grateful? He had to be; there was no way the pathetic little dweeb would have won. And Ellie, the girl Lizz had volunteered for. She'd have got nowhere.

Neither had Lizz.

Court stirred. She was obviously used to sleeping on cold ground because she didn't seem at all uncomfortable. Raylum hadn't even been to sleep and his muscles ached with trying to settle down. "Mornin'" he murmured.

She made some kind of grunting noise, her eyes wide open and instantly alert. "It's me," he added. She sat up, stretching her arms into the air and yawning so widely he could see the flap at the back of her mouth.

"Anything happen?" she asked. He shook his head. She didn't mention the cannon to him.

"Hungry?" She swung the bow around, slotting an arrow into it with nimble fingers. He shook his head.

"It's my turn to catch," he insisted, reaching to take it off her. His fingers accidentally hit hers; they both snatched their hands away and the bow clattered to the floor. He didn't even dare to look at her.

"I can catch food myself," she hissed.

"I can shoot better than you. Besides, it's polite to take turns. Let me catch the food."

It sounded so ridiculous that both of them snorted, just a little bit.

Clarence, sneaking through the bushes on the look out for small mammals, heard the snorts and froze.

Austin dunked his head into the stream, almost knocking it against the pebbles lining the bottom. The coolness was refreshing and took his mind off the task at hand; keeping Taylor alive. She was making it easy for him, doing everything he said without complaint, but even though her face was its usual cheery self, he knew she was desperately frightened. In truth, he was too. Sooner or later he would have to leave her, somehow, and he wanted it to be later more than anything in the world.

He kept his head under until his lungs started to ache and Taylor grabbed him by the collar and pulled him out. Water dribbled down his nose. He shook his head like a dog, sending drops everywhere. Taylor squeaked, forgetting to muffle it, and he clasped a hand over her mouth. She struggled free, not that he put up that much of a fight. "Don't do that, Austin!" she squeaked, "The water's freezing!"

"Keep your voice down," he urged. His hair was plastered close to his skull, the breeze pushing the water back gently from his face and neck like a towel. She pulled a face like she always did when he was bossing her around. Droplets of water hung in little beads on her familiar features; one was caught on her eyelashes.