¹ THRONE ─ the hunger games

[ 024 ] this is where you come to beg, unborn and unshaven

THERE WAS A SAYING, a phrase in some long-dead language of the old world lost to time and war and the dust that settled on top of it to form Panem, that the trainers back home in the Academy used to use. E tan é epi tas. With your shield or on it. Roughly, that translated to: come back alive and victorious or don't come back at all.

When she was younger and only just coming to terms with the fact that the Games were her only ticket out of her miserable life, desperate to score herself into the shape of a winner, of a Career tribute, Iko didn't quite understand the platitude. Victory meant coming home. In her head, being alive at the end of it all meant coming home a victor. She didn't grasp the concept until later, when she was much older, much wiser, much more versed in the language of violence and its unforgiving and unforgiven nature. That was the problem with the gilded word "glory", coated in teflon and sun-bright, attractive to everybody who ever craved livelihood in District 2.

If she wanted to come home, Iko had to give them all a show. She was the smallest of the Career pack, the dullest in appearance. Alex—he was naturally attractive, a beacon guiding attention to him even when he didn't intend to, which was most of the time. Titus was the same, though his entitlement displaced his charm. Opal, she was tall, a strong swordsman. Sage's red hair made her noticeable, and she was loud, a burning bonfire of a presence nobody could ignore. And Elias was build like a brick wall. Even if his performance was lacking, and his morality was holding him back, they'd always watch out for him in periphery, just to see what he could do.

Iko didn't have those luxuries. Even though Alex couldn't bear to look at her now, he'd understand. In time, he would. But Iko feared that time wasn't going to be on their side. Although there was always an expiration date on the silence wedged between them, this no-man's land of words snagged in the barbed wire, nothing going across, nothing to be said that knew how to be said, the end was coming. Quicker than they'd realise.

They were an exhausted line-up, nine tributes at the end of their proverbial ropes, strung out on the fumes of sleep and the promise of an end. Not quite in sight yet, but close.

As they trudged through the foliage, Iko avoided touching as many plants as she could. Titus' blisters had dulled overnight into an angry rash that spread up his wrist, and even with a solution, Iko didn't want to risk anything. That, and the inviolable fact that Titus wouldn't be willing to share. Especially with her. Despite the ointment, he'd been scratching all night, and they'd found blood under his fingernails come morning. The more she thought about the state of his hand, the more potently Iko felt her breakfast coming back up. So she fixed her gaze ahead. They made the right call to leave Titus behind at camp, and the pack was a whole lot quieter now that their loudest member was absent. Silence meant focus, and focus was precisely what they needed now that they were venturing into uncharted territory. Who knew what the arena could do?

Ahead, Alex slashed through the underbrush with his bow, clearing the way through the thickest part of the forest. Sage was right behind him, and Iko was bringing up the rear, keeping an eye trained on her surroundings while a small fraction of her vigilance was putting Elias on a leash. After they'd forced him to execute his district partner, he'd retreated into himself, and Iko had a feeling he was plotting something. She couldn't let the fresh wound of his rage be their downfall. If he was planning to cut and run, she would gun him down in a second.

They were heading towards the mutts the map in the Control Centre had labelled as Triceratops. Iko didn't know what they looked like, but the name was familiar. Earlier, they'd found a section of the arena containing old paddocks that looked as though they'd been breached. There were claw marks everywhere, but no fresh tracks. Whatever had broken out of containment seemed to have vacated the vicinity a long time ago, unless those markings had been designed by the Gamemakers to spook the tributes. Iko didn't want to admit it, but it was working. Humans were easy to get rid of, but whatever monsters were roaming the arena weren't afraid of her.