The Feast
“Attention, Tributes, attention.” The voice of the Gamemaker echoed through the Arena. “Commencing at sunrise, there will be a Feast at the Cornucopia. Each of you desire something — desperately — and we plan to be… generous hosts.”
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Eric heard the announcement, but didn’t even bother thinking about going. He had a shelter, a fire, even a small supply of food and firewood. Why would he risk all of that in a bloodbath?
No, he would stay there. He wouldn’t leave anymore. If the others came looking for him, he would cut them down, but he wouldn’t move again. Not when they were so close to an end.
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Daniel arrived early. The sun had just risen minutes before. He could see the bags lined up on the table. None of the others had been by yet. He could tell by the number of bags present. It matched up with the number of Tributes left.
That meant they either they hadn’t arrived yet, or they wouldn’t show up. Daniel made to walk over, when another option crossed his mind. Or they were hiding.
So he waited for a moment, he studied every possible entry point. He couldn’t see anyone. He swayed on the the balls of his feet, biting his lip.
If he waited any longer, others would show up, and that would mean a fight. Without weapons, that was not something Daniel wanted.
He darted forward, hoping he did the right thing. He waded through the water, and still no one came out to attack. He breathed a little easier when he arrived at the table. He went to the bags with the number one on them, and looked inside, checking which was his. The first, smaller bag contained medicine. Since Daniel wasn’t injured he guessed it was for the other half of his team. Without further ado, he grabbed the other, larger bag, and encountered something heavy. He unwrapped it and he couldn’t help the gasp that left him. A sword. A weapon.
He was about to leave, when the number ten caught his eye. That was Cho’s bag. His insides twisted as he thought of Cho. He really thought they had something going for a moment. Camaraderie. Friendship. Trust.
He knew it was petty, but he couldn’t help himself. He upturned her back and let her memoirs tumble to the ground before he realised it. Then it was already too late, so he smashed them with his foot for good measure.
Before he could feel bad about it, he turned his back to the table and ran back into the woods.
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Harry decided it wasn’t in his best interest to go to the Feast. There was nothing he really needed. He got by. He’d taken Will’s knife. There was enough food he could find in the woods. He could get shelter with a little effort and searching.
Besides all that, he wasn’t going to run head on into an ambush. He’d seen other Games enough to know the Feasts were always, always a trap.
More than that, Harry didn’t want to kill anyone else. Just killing Will gave him nightmares. He didn’t need more deaths on his conscience.
He curled himself up in his jacket and tried to get some sleep.
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Henley arrived at the Cornucopia, but she wasn’t alone. She saw the female Tributes from Twelve and One approach from the distance. Her hand slipped to the dagger she wore. She just knew she would need it.
They hadn’t spotted her yet. Good. She kept holding her course and went straight for Tris. The girl noticed her at the last moment, and had to put up defences at the last second. She pulled her own dagger that stopped a killing blow to her head.
Despite being fast, Tris lacked the strength to fight Henley off. Tris had to use two hands which left Henley free to swing a punch at her. Tris shrieked and fell to the ground.
Henley shot a quick glance around to see where Christina was. She’d stopped a distance away, keeping her eyes on both of them.
Henley descended on Tris, sitting on her chest, her arms trapping by her side. Tris squirmed underneath her, but Henley punched her in the face. She tried to turn her face away from Henley’s fist, unsuccessfully.
From the corner of Henley’s eye she spotted movement. Christina ran toward the table. She would take her bag and leave. Not that Henley would let her.
Henley threw her knife, hoping to catch her somewhere fatal. Her aim was off and the knife embedded itself in the girl’s thigh.
Meanwhile, Tris had managed to free one arm and whacked her unarmed hand against the side of Henley’s face. She grunted and grabbed her flailing wrist, while her other hand wrestled the knife from her grip. Once it was hers, it was easy to stab the point into Tris’ heart. The body beneath her went still.
Henley stood up with slightly trembling legs.
“Nice one.” she heard from behind her. Henley shot her a glance. Christina had pulled the dagger out and held one hand to the wound. “Your little boyfriend wasn’t nearly as tough.”
Henley stopped with one hand on her bag. “You. You killed Tobias?” Her voice was a facade of calm, but she was slowly boiling over.
“Everyone has to die. Don’t waste your pretty head about it.” Christina was being awfully offhanded about it — about him.
Henley hated that. He had been her partner. Her last link to the life she left behind. The fury inside her reached its limit. With a cry, she threw herself at Christina. They both tumbled to the ground. Christina used the momentum to roll further and ended up on top.
In the crash, both of their knifes clattered out of their grasps, laying just out of reach. They used all weapons still available; fists, teeth, knees, elbows.
Henley bit down hard enough on Christina’s arm to draw blood, while Christina fingers tightened around her throat. Henley was losing oxygen. Her hand found Christina’s wound and put two fingers in and pulled.
A scream tore from Christina’s mouth and she fell off of Henley, clutching her leg. Henley gasped for air, even as she rolled toward the dagger. Her hand found the hilt and she dove at Christina. The blade cut the air, Henley’s swing nothing but a blur. The metal pierced Christina’s chest again and again. Even after the canon shot announced her death, Henley couldn’t stop stabbing.
Finally, when she ran out of steam, she stopped. Her chest heaved, her lungs forcing lots of air in and out of her body.
For the second time, she climbed to her knees. She grabbed her bag and left the slaughter field behind.