The Feast
Katniss
There’s no question of waking Harry now. It would be best for all concerned if he sleeps through the Feast. Katniss knows him well enough to be sure that he’d never agree to her embarking on a solo mission to save his life.
No time like the present to get started – it’s not as if she’s going to sleep tonight. She arranges two MREs, the last meal and a snack, along with Harry’s water vessel and knife, around his head. Into his hydration pack, she stuffs enough essentials that if she can’t get back for some reason, she won’t be screwed. She’s just climbing out of the cave when she spots the parachute.
It’s not the antivenom. She doesn’t expect it to be. But it is Capitol medicine. The extra-strength but non-addictive sleep/pain medication that her mother helps supply for Mayor Bones, so she doesn’t have to take morphling for her migraines. In liquid form.
Apparently, Remus Lupin agrees that Harry needs to sleep through the Feast. Katniss is definitely buying him a drink if they live.
Climbing back into the tent in the cave, she carefully props Harry's head on her lap. She pours the medicine into his mouth, massaging his throat to help him swallow it. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots his night-vision goggle/headlamp contraption.
Good thing I came back, she thinks, throwing it on her head before resuming her descent.
***
These goggles are practically magical. She makes it to the edge of the woods and finds a superb hiding place right in view of the Cornucopia in record time. Dawn is still an hour off. From here, she’ll be able to see the moment the backpacks arrive.
While she waits, she decides the best plan is to be poised to sprint at the first sign of movement. She gets in a starting position that she can comfortably maintain for an hour and lets her muscles relax. This plan won’t work if she gets a cramp. She allows herself to fidget to stay loose. She restrings her bow. Nocks an arrow.
A ray of sun glints off the Cornucopia. The ground in front of it splits, and a table rises. She scans the backpacks, and by process of elimination determines the tiny orange one must be marked “12” since it’s the only one she can’t read. As soon as she sees it, she’s off.
Mid-sprint, she watches a figure – Foxface – dart out of the Cornucopia itself, snag the green “5” pack, and speed away. Why didn’t she think of that? It doesn’t matter. She’s got the “12” bag around her wrist. The moment she turns around, she has to duck a knife. It slices over her right eye.
Pansy’s here.
Katniss lets her arrow fly and nocks another. Pansy avoids death but takes a hit to her non-throwing arm. Katniss tries to curve wide around her to get back to the tree line. In the time it takes Pansy to remove the arrow, she’s halfway there. Pansy seems torn between going after Katniss or the backpack. Evidently, she chooses Katniss.
Those knives are deadly in Pansy’s hands. Even at a dead sprint, she manages to slice Katniss’s thigh with her next throw. Katniss is slowed by the pain, but it gives her an opportunity to aim at the moving target. She hits Pansy in her right shoulder, just before Pansy tackles her.
The larger girl has Katniss pinned. Lucky for Katniss, Pansy is a drama queen.
“Where’s your little beau, Twelve? Are you bringing him a gift?”
She has to keep her talking. “He’s out there now,” Katniss lies. “Hunting Draco.” Then she shouts, loud as she can, “HARRY!”
Pansy slams her fist into Katniss’s windpipe, effectively cutting off her voice, but she’s looking around nervously. After a few moments, she turns back to her victim. “Liar,” she coos, “I bet he’s dying somewhere. You’ve probably got him strapped up in some tree, waiting for whatever’s in that pretty little backpack.”
Katniss grips the tiny pack, still hooked on her wrist, but Pansy doesn’t go for it. Instead, she opens her jacket to reveal an impressive array of knives. “Were you going to bring medicine to Lover Boy? Too bad – he’ll never get it.”
She selects a dainty-looking number with a cruelly curved blade; Katniss tries to buck her off, but Pansy is too heavy. “Forget it, Twelve. I promised Draco if he let me have you, I’d give the audience a good show. We’re going to kill you. Just like we did your teeny, tiny, pathetic ally… What was her name? Rue?
“First Rue, now you, and then nature takes care of your boo. How does that sound?” Pansy asks sweetly over Katniss’s snarling. “Now, where to begin?”
While she’s surveying her victim’s face, possibly picturing the carvings she wants to create, a shadow falls over them. Something yanks Pansy away, and then she’s screaming. Katniss is too stunned to process what’s happening at first, madly wondering if Harry has somehow come to save her - then she sees Blaise with a knife buried in Pansy’s kidney, another at her throat.
“What did you do to Rue?” he asks Pansy with preternatural calm. “Did you kill her?” He twists the knife in her back.
“NO!” she screams. “No, it wasn’t me!”
“You said her name, though,” says Blaise, almost in a whisper. “Did you cut her up like you were going to with this one?” He jerks his head over his shoulder at Katniss.
“No, no, NO – Draco!” Pansy screeches.
Somewhere in the distance, he responds, “Pansy!” – but he’s much too far away to do her any good. Blaise has already opened her throat – a red smile under her chin that pours out a waterfall of blood. She’s dead before she hits the ground.
Katniss is ready to embrace death when Blaise’s knife presses to her throat. But then he asks, “Was she telling the truth about you allying with Rue?”
“I–” Once again, she has to keep him talking. “Yes, we were allies.” As long as she talks, she lives. “We blew up the Careers’ camp.” Maybe she should try for some sympathy. “I– I t-tried so hard to get to her, but Marvel got there first. I couldn’t save her,” she admits.
Blaise gives her a long, searching look. “You killed Marvel?”
“I did. Then I buried her in flowers and sang her to sleep,” she says. “Your District sent me bread.”
She’s crying again. She’s cried more in the Arena than in the rest of her life combined. Every muscle in her body relaxes. “Do it fast, please Blaise,” she whispers.
She can’t read his expression. He’s just staring at her like he’s solving a puzzle. Then he lowers the knife and steps away.
“A life for a death. We’re even,” he declares. “Next time we meet, all bets are off. Understood?”
Katniss nods and stands up. She understands plenty; not just that they’re even now, but why a debt was owed in the first place. On impulse, she holds out a hand for him to shake. He grips it firmly. They go their separate ways.
***
Somehow, she makes it back to Luna’s cave. The backpack contains one slim box, with one hypodermic needle, labeled with a stylised serpent. She jams the needle into Harry’s arm and manages to depress the plunger all the way before the world goes dark.