Night 1
Henley and Hook walked up to Jeanine, both of them empty handed.
“Anything?” Jeanine asked.
“I got nothing,” Hook said while he sat down. “I did find this kid, but he ran away before I could do anything to him.”
Henley snorted. She took a seat next to Hook. “Yeah, I had boy trouble, too. That Tribute from One actually thought he could team up with me.”
“Who wouldn’t want to team up with you, wildfire?”
Before Henley could start arguing, Jeanine interrupted with, “A girl passed by here, not long ago.”
Both Hook and Henley turned to her.
“And she didn’t kill you. Mighty nice of her.”
“I don’t think she had any weapons to kill me with.”
“Speaking of weapons.” Hook fished out a dagger from his belt and presented it to Henley. “Everyone should have a back-up.” Henley accepted the knife. “Try not to cut my throat with it tonight.”
Henley smirked at him. “It will be hard, but I’ll try.” She turned to Jeanine. “How does it feel, to see the face of your fellow Tribute appear in the air?”
Jeanine snorted. “Please, I didn’t even know him.” She shifted a little. “He was just another competitor.” She studied the other two. “This truce of ours, what will happen to it when morning comes?”
Henley shared a look with Hook. It was Henley who answered. “We’d better split up. I don’t want to know either of you. It’ll only make it harder in the end.”
Hook agreed with her. “However, since morning is a long way off, let’s try to get some shut-eye, shall we?”
————
Christina grumbled under her breath about sneaky blondes even as she attempted to start a fire. Damn that women. She wouldn’t help anyone else. She wouldn’t trust anyone else. From now on, she would look out only for herself.
The twigs she rubbed together snapped, her attempts at fire thwarted.
She threw the sticks away in disgust.
So much for warmth. She hugged her knees close to her chest. Might as well try to sleep.
————
Once again Ginny fell to her knees. Her body felt heavy. She trembled from the force she used all day to keep her on the move. Her fight earlier with District 2 and 7 took her toll on her.
She stretched out and lay her head on her arm. She was fast asleep the second her eyes closed.
————
A shiver ran through Jack’s body as the night grew colder. He hid deep in the forest. It was dark and near freezing.
He tucked himself further into his jacket, his hands buried in his armpits. He had to wriggle his toes every few minutes to check if they still worked.
The pile of wood he’d gathered for his fire lay abandoned to the side. Starting a fire had failed. Now he had to face the night without heat and pray he didn’t die of cold.
————
A soft thunking was all that Lula heard. Also what she felt, as it was her head that thunked against the tree trunk.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Why did she think she could win this? It was insane.
A particular hard thunk caused her to stop. She massaged the back of her head with a small, “Ow.”
Maybe it wasn’t just the thought that was insane. Maybe it was her. People always said she was weird.
Then again, didn’t you have to be insane to win the Games?
————
Draco’s body shook as tears streamed down his cheeks. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t survive this. He wasn’t made for this. He would never make it out alive. He may have killed someone, but he stabbed him in the back. Hardly a fight.
He never wanted to be part of the Games. He wanted his mother. Another sob left him as he thought about her. He would never see her again. He would die here.
He cried until he exhausted himself and fell in an uneasy sleep.
————
Four snapped his head up as he heard the approach of another Tribute. He stood, getting ready to fight.
Will stumbled into the scene, a hatchet held loosely in his hand.
Four grimaced to himself. Great. A hatchet versus bare hands.
“I’m not here to kill you,” Will said.
“Really?” Four replied, not at all convinced.
Will threw the hatchet down at Four’s feet. Four stared at the weapon, incredulous. He looked back at Will.
“I need you to kill me.”
“What?”
“Please. I don’t want to live anymore. Not if it’s like this.”
“You can’t be serious. Why would you give up your life like that?”
“Because this isn’t living.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“Please, I’m begging you.” He knelt before Four. “Please, kill me.”
Four picked up the hatchet. He held it still in his hand, staring down at Will.
“No,” he said. “You won’t die tonight. And if you have a problem with that, find someone else to do it.” He held out the hatchet to Will.
Will lowered his head and didn’t accept it.
“Keep it,” he muttered.
Four yanked his chin up, forcing Will to meet his eyes.
“Don’t give up yet. Anything can happen.”
————
Daniel landed on his back, all the air forced out of his lungs. Before he could even attempt to get up, a weight settled on his chest. Long black hair fell on his face as Cho pressed her blade against his neck.
He couldn’t see much of her face in the dark, but he knew her face was hard.
He held his hands up near his head in surrender, with no real hope of reprieve.
Cho’s eyes changed in ferocity. Ever so slowly, the blade left its place on his neck.
Once the knife was gone, Daniel realised he hadn’t breathed since it had been there. He gasped in air, trying to get his heart to beat regularly again.
He closed his eyes momentarily, but he opened them again when he didn’t feel Cho’s weight disappear like the knife had.
“Just because I didn’t kill you, doesn’t mean I’m weak,” she said, pointing the knife back at him.
“I didn’t think that,” he said quickly.
She looked frightened. Daniel didn’t know why. She was the one with the knife. Finally, she got off him and moved away. She put her back against a tree and stayed there, her eyes never leaving Daniel.
Daniel sat up, one hand rubbing at his throat. He copied Cho and sat against a tree. His head fell back, his heart still not back to beating normal. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He had a feeling Cho wouldn’t kill him. Not tonight, anyway.
————
This was by far the strangest team-up Harry had ever witnessed in the Games. He shivered and clung closer to Eric.
Funny how when they met the first time Eric was more than willing to kill him, but now he needed him to chase the cold away. Harry still didn’t know if it was worth spending the night with warmth and risk the chance of being killed when Eric woke up.
That was a problem for the next day.
————
Rumple moistened the cloth and ran it along the cuts on Tris’ hands. Rumple said nothing as he tended to her.
Tris watched him work. His hands knew what they were doing. One of the cuts hurt when the cloth passed over them. She winced.
“You really should take better care, dearie.”
She looked up at his face. He still wasn’t looking at her.
“You might need your hands during these Games. Working them to breaking won’t help you.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I do.”
Finally he looked at her. His brown eyes bore into hers.
“Get some sleep. You need rest.”
————
Hermione felt bone-tired. She’d walked all day. She walked so far that she reached the edge of the Arena.
She sank to her knees near a brooke. The sound of the water was soothing to her frayed nerves. She lay down on a rock, heated by the sun all day and curled into a wall. There was still some heat coming off the rock, and between that and the gushing of the river, she slept.