The Tributes of Twelve | Newt x Reader

20 | The Non-Existent Music

The fire burns afresh from the wood that Newt just collected, and he and I sit next to each other, warming up our chilled bodies in the early morning. We're eating the other half of the squirrel that Alby and Harriet must have killed the other day. A terrible twinge still goes through my gut at the thought of Harriet's body, lying dead on the ground, but I push it away. I have Newt now. I push the inedible remains of the squirrel away and head over to the waterfall to wash my hands and the stew bowl (which we finished last night). I fill up the two water bottles for the rest of the day and sit back down next to Newt. His head falls against my shoulder and he flinches.

"Sorry, love," he apologises with a yawn, stretching, but his head lands on my shoulder again. He winces, and I realise it's not just because he's embarrassed to rest his head on me. His ankle must be hurting again.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask in concern, and he jumps again.

"Yeah, my ankle's just playing up again," he answers and rubs his leg thoughtfully. I hand him one of the water bottles and take a painkiller tablet from the bag. He takes it with a smile and a nod, and swallows it straight away. His head lands on my shoulder again but he doesn't move it this time. Hesitantly, I brush some hair away from his face and smile down at him.

"You look tired," I comment, brushing more of his blond locks from his forehead.

"Nah, I'll be up in a bloody minute," Newt yawns and closes his eyes.

"You should have woken me up last night," I reprimand.

"You looked too peaceful. I didn't want to disturb you," he replies, and I shake my head in wonder.

"I'm going hunting today," I say, and he starts to argue, but I cut him off. "You're too tired. Get some sleep."

"No," he replies stubbornly, and I look at him sternly.

"I'll be back after midday," I tell him, and he opens his mouth to respond, but I give him another death stare until he shuts his mouth. I grab Alby's larger bag and leave him with the smaller one. I take three daggers and one throwing knife, and leave the other dagger for him.

"If something goes wrong, yell as loud as you can," I say and adjust the straps of the pack. I grab one of the water bottles, and he hands me the other one.

"Take as much water as you can carry. It's going to get bloody scorching out there," he says, and I take the second bottle from him.

"Like I said, I'll be back a little after midday," I say, and try to turn around, but not before he gives me a kiss on the forehead. "Remember, go to sleep," I remind him.

"Good that," he says with a wink and I laugh as I slip out of the cave into the crisp air. It was cooler earlier on, but Newt's right. It's going to get 'bloody scorching', like he said.

I hold the largest dagger in front of me, but lower it when I see a large patch of wild mushrooms growing only a few inches away from my feet. I scoop them up in my hands and cover them with one of the silver sponsor parachutes and stuff them in the pack. Growing just next to them is a bush of wild blackberries. I examine them carefully until I'm sure of what they are; the last thing I need is to poison Newt. Or me. I stuff them in the second parachute and keep moving.

Over the course of the next few hours, I find a small river with a few ducks swimming around. I throw a knife into one on the bank before it even knows what's hit it. I smile and hang it onto my belt with ease. The duck's the only meat I've gotten today, but along with the mushroom and blackberries, I collect some (more) mint leaves and fennel, along with some pine needles, which I breathe in the scent of gratefully.

I realise that it's getting dark when I start to head back. Shuck! Newt's going to be worried. And probably pretty angry when I get back. I grab all my stuff, take a sip from one of the water bottles, which are now both empty, and walk back.

When I reach the cave, Newt's sitting down outside, urgently waiting for me outside the entrance. When he sees me, he jumps up.

"Y/n!" he calls and crosses his arms. "You're late. I might have missed your cannon while I was asleep. You could have been dead."

I laugh. This is exactly what happened this morning, but reverse roles. "Sorry, Newt. But I'm fine," I respond.

His gaze softens. "Love, you didn't even eat lunch, did you? You must be bloody starving."

I shake my head as he leads me inside. The fire's burning, and Newt's obviously been hard at work today. The birds have been plucked and they are now cut up and simmering over the fire in a pot of water, and the rabbit's skinned and resting on a stone slab - almost a shelf - on the wall to the cave, near the waterfall.

"You didn't eat anything either, did you?" I say softly, looking at him.

"Of course I did," he says, awkwardly avoiding my gaze.

"What did you eat, then?"

"I finished off the mint and fennel," he answers and finally meets my eyes with his chocolate brown ones.

"That's not enough," I retort. "Did you get any sleep, either?"

"A little," he answers. I look at him suspiciously and take a seat near the fire, and he does the same. I take out my pack and place the mushrooms, blackberries, fennel, mint and pine needles deliberately on the ground and put the duck on the 'shelf' with the rabbit. I take out a knife and start to wash and cut up the mushrooms into minuscule pieces, and he does the same with the pine. I throw the mushrooms in with the bird into the stew, and I put all the of the fennel in, too. He chucks the pine in, too, and we sit back. I begin to mix the stew with a spoon absentmindedly, and the two of us fall into silence.

"Hey, love," Newt says after a while. "Thanks for hunting. Uh, yeah. Thanks."

"That's okay," I reply. "Thanks for plucking the birds. And putting them into a stew. And skinning the rabbit. Which reminds me - I should get the duck ready-"

"No bloody way, love," Newt interrupts, clenching his jaw. "You've done enough already. You need to relax."

"But-"

"No," he says again. I sink back and he grins in victory. Suddenly a mischievous glint meets his eye. "I have an idea," he says.

"And that is?" I ask, curious. In response, he holds a hand out to me, as if asking me to take it.

"Let's dance, love," Newt says, and I raise my eyebrows.

"There's no music," I argue, and he shrugs.

"That doesn't matter," he says, and when I still don't answer, he finishes with a, "please, love?"

I sigh and take his hand in response and he pulls us both to our feet happily. He places his hand on my waist and I place mine on his shoulder. He takes his other hand in mine and we begin to sway to the non-existent music. A massive blush rises on both of our cheeks as I smile up at him. I nearly knock over the stew off the fire and burn my foot off, and he nearly drenches himself in the waterfall, but neither of us mind. He starts humming a tune that I don't recognise, and we both let that suffice for music. The dance ends up with my hands on his neck and his around my waist, and as he pulls me in for the third time, I don't argue.