The Wolf and the Mockingjay, Part 1, Chapter 5
Title: The Wolf and the Mockingjay, Part 1
Fandoms: Doctor Who/The Hunger Games fusion
Rating: Teen+ for violence
Pairings: Rose-Martha friendship; Jack/everyone
Characters: Rose, Martha, Ninth Doctor, Donna, Reinette (expy), Jack Harkness, Jackie Tyler, Mickey Smith, River Song, loads more; HG characters come in more in Part 2, but Cinna, Caesar Flickerman, Claudius Templesmith, Plutarch Heavensbee, Finnick Odair and President Snow appear in this part; OCs Nokia, Lace, Gem, Sulla and Livia.
Summary: Rose Tyler is chosen for the Hunger Games. Martha Jones volunteers to save her little sister. When they meet in the arena, something happens that will change the world.
Chapter 1: The Reaping
Chapter 2: The Capitol
Chapter 3: The Tributes
Chapter 4: The Arena
Rose woke, cold and cramped, from a terrible dream in which Toby was coming after her with evil red eyes. It figured that what little sleep she’d been able to get had been plagued with nightmares. Her head ached and her legs were stiff from the cold; she hadn’t slept in her sleeping bag because she’d been too afraid she’d have to get up and run in the middle of the night.
The best she could say was that the night was finally over. The sun was up, so she decided it was time to get up.
There was still just a little bit of rabbit meat left over from last night’s dinner. She ate it before packing up and moving from her resting spot. Nearby was a small blackberry bush with a handful of ripe berries, which Rose picked and ate. She hoped there were more to be found; they were delicious, and she was still hungry.
Time to hunt, then. She decided to go back to the woods near the pond, where she’d spotted rabbits and squirrels, and she set off to find her way out of the thicket. No matter how hard she tried, though, she couldn’t seem to get her bearings back. Somehow, she’d gotten completely turned around, and she couldn’t see anything through the thick bushes and trees.
And then, mid-morning, a spine-chilling screech split the sky. Her feet rooted themselves to the spot, the sound drilling into her brain and finding her most primal fears.
Another screech, and Rose knew what today’s Gamemaker-sponsored fun was: Terror birds, a Capitol muttation used during the Dark Days. They could kill grown men with one strike. A few had nested in the wild near District 9, and very, very occasionally, you could hear them. Any that came close were shot down by the Peacekeepers, who had just as vested an interest in keeping them away as anyone.
There wasn’t much that could be done about terror birds. Their skin was so thick it could shrug off even small-arms fire, and they had eyes sharper than any hawk’s. Rose remembered her grandfather telling her, when she was very small, that if she ever heard a terror bird, she should get under something and then stay very still. They went after movement.
She hit the ground, rolling under some bushes. The hideous screams echoed back and forth across the arena. One swept low, its huge wings blotting out the sun, but it didn’t seem to notice Rose.
Endless minutes ticked by, and, finally, the sounds faded as the terror birds left the arena. Rose breathed out for what seemed like the first time since she’d heard the first scream, and she dared to come out from under the bush, dislodging a spider from her hair as she stood.
Too late, she heard the sounds coming toward her. Running feet, bodies crashing through the bushes -
They were on her before she could even draw her pistol bow. Martha sprang out of the thicket, twisted to avoid crashing into Rose, and tripped, falling to the ground. Shella from District 4 was hot on her heels, knife in hand.
Rose instinctively placed herself between Shella and Martha, drawing her own knife. She blocked Shella’s knife-wielding arm and stabbed toward the other girl’s body, but Shella was too quick, leaping back. The two squared off.
Knife fight. Yeah, Rose knew this.
“I was hunting her, but you’ll do just fine, Copper,” Shella snarled.
“Think you’ll find I’m better than fine,” said Rose.
Shella feinted left, but Rose didn’t fall for it. Instead, as Shella slashed downward and to Rose’s right, Rose stepped aside and caught her shoulder, throwing her off-balance. Shella flailed backward - but Rose already had a knife in her.
Shella looked surprised as she fell.
Rose stepped away from her. Unexpectedly, her right leg gave out, and she sat down hard. Something wasn’t right.
And then she realized that Shella’s knife had cut deeply into her right leg a couple of inches above the knee. It was bleeding heavily.
Shella’s cannon sounded as she died, and there was movement beside Rose. Martha was up on her feet again. She stared at Rose for a moment, then turned her attention to Shella. She knelt down, stripping a longbow and quiver of arrows, a canteen and a backpack from the dead girl. She also took Shella’s knife and used it to cut a strip of her jacket off.
Rose watched her with detached fascination, thinking that any second, the younger girl would run off with her purloined supplies. Instead, Martha dumped them next to Rose, said, “Hold on a minute,” and disappeared into the thicket.
She was back moments later, kneeling down next to Rose’s wounded leg. She examined the knife cut and then opened up the tear in Rose’s pants a little wider. Rose saw Martha was holding a handful of thick moss, which she pressed against the wound and tied in place with the fabric she’d cut from Shella’s jacket.
“There,” she said. “You won’t be leaving a blood trail now. Let’s get this stuff and go somewhere safe.”
Rose was still feeling stunned from the fight and her injury and the odd twist the game had suddenly taken. Martha gathered up what she’d taken off of Shella, and then she pulled Rose to her feet. For someone so tiny, she was strong.
“Lean on me,” she said, and Rose had no choice but to comply. Martha looked around at what, to Rose, had seemed an almost impassible wood, and she confidently picked a trail, helping Rose limp along. In minutes, they were out of the woods and heading across the clearing near the pond toward the dilapidated cabin.
Martha sat her down in the open doorway of the cabin. It was a good place, only visible from one direction and still partially hidden by the tall grass. She knelt by Rose’s leg and untied the makeshift bandage so she could examine the wound.
“Not good,” she muttered. She spotted Rose’s canteen and unhooked it. “Is this water purified?” Rose stared at her. “Rose. Did you purify this water?”
“Um, yes,” said Rose, wondering why a cut that was bleeding so much didn’t hurt.
“Good. Did you boil it, or do you have iodine in your pack?” Martha began to unscrew the top of the canteen.
“I, uh, I have a medical kit,” Rose said, feeling it ought to be mentioned.
Martha’s head whipped up. “You do? Let’s have it!” Rose continued to stare at her, feeling like she hadn’t quite caught up on what was happening. Martha looked her steadily in the eyes. “You can trust me, Rose. Just like I know I can trust you. I can help you if you’ll let me.”
Caught up or no, Rose knew she needed help. She took off her backpack and handed it to Martha, who dug out the medical kit and the iodine.
“We need to get you out of your pants,” said Martha. “I’ll help.”
It took a bit of doing, as Rose’s leg still wasn’t fully cooperating with her, but she got them off. So much blood . . .
Martha scrubbed her hands with disinfectant and then started cleaning the wound with water and iodine. That hurt. Rose gasped.
“Sorry, but it’s necessary,” said Martha. “I’m going to have to stitch this, and we can’t take the risk of sealing infection inside.”
“H-how do you know you can trust me?” Rose asked. It was, perhaps, not the best thing to say to the person who was doctoring you, but it was the only thing that came to mind.
“Your pin,” Martha said decisively. “You’ve got a wolf pin. I’ve got a mockingjay necklace. It’s like the stories.”
Rose focused on Martha’s wooden necklace. The bird was, indeed, a mockingjay. “What stories?”
“You don’t know about the Wolf and the Mockingjay? Well, maybe they’re just District 7 stories.” Martha pulled out a small, curved needle and thread. “You ready?”
Ready? When Rose’d had stitches after her first knife fight, the apothecary had at least given her a good slug of sleep syrup first. That wasn’t an option here.
“Why don’t you tell me one of those stories,” she suggested, feeling queasy.
Martha nodded, and, as she began to stitch up the wound, started talking.
“In the Time Before Time, when the Lady still walked the forests, the Wise Woman sought her out.
“ ‘Lady of the Forest,’ said the Wise Woman, ‘the People ask your help. A lone Wolf howls at night, and it fills them with fear. Why is the Wolf alone? Why does it sing of such pain? Will it attack people in its agony? We do not know.’
“The Lady considered this. She called for her good friend, the Mockingjay. ‘Find this Wolf,’ she said. ‘Bring its song back to me.’
“So the brave little Mockingjay sought after the Wolf and listened to its song. When it had learned it, it flew back to the Lady and sang the Wolf’s song to her.
“Then the Lady understood. The Wolf had lost its pack, its mate and its cubs. It called for them night after night, but they were all dead and gone. The Wolf’s loneliness consumed it, and it longed only for death.
“So the Lady sang her own song to the Mockingjay, and she sent it back to the Wolf. The Mockingjay sang the Lady’s song to the Wolf. It sang of peace, of home, of friendship and warmth. It sang until the Wolf’s grief and pain were soothed, and the Wolf followed the Mockingjay back to the Lady.
“The Lady greeted the Wolf as she would a friend, and she said, ‘You, Wolf, will never be alone again. I grieve your pack with you, but you must live on with their memory inside you. The Mockingjay will be your friend and companion, and you, Wolf, will now be a protector of the forest and the creatures within it.’
“The Wolf bowed its head and said, ‘Lady, it will be so. I thank you for your gift of a friend, the greatest gift I have ever been given, and I will forever protect the forest from all evil.’
“And from that day on, the Wolf and the Mockingjay were the greatest of friends, and the People learned to honor and respect the Wolf.”
Martha tied off the thread. The wound was now closed with small, neat stitches. Rose swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn’t throw up or faint. She’d felt every one of those stitches, but there was no doubt Martha was a talented healer.
The younger girl smeared the wounded area with antibiotic cream and applied a sterile pad to it, which she sealed over with a clear adhesive. “Done,” she said with some satisfaction. “I’ll have to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t get infected, but I think it should be fine.” She looked at Rose’s face. “Are you okay?”
In fact, Rose wasn’t feeling remotely okay, but she said, “Yeah. Thank you, Martha. I-I wouldn’t have known what to do.”
Martha smiled her very pretty smile and said, “One good turn deserves another. You saved my life back there. I was a sitting duck; you could’ve run, and she would’ve killed me.” She handed Rose Shella’s canteen. “Here. Drink what’s left in here; you lost a lot of blood.”
Rose did what she was told. “So, you’re a healer?” she asked.
“Yep. I’m apprenticed to Mr. Stoker, who’s been the healer for our camp since before I was born. You get some nasty injuries when something goes wrong with felling trees.” She stuffed the medical kit back in Rose’s pack. “You need somewhere safe to rest for at least a day or two, and I think I know just the place. Come on.”
“Without my pants?” Rose asked.
“It’s close, don’t worry.” Martha helped Rose, who felt quite exposed, up, and took her around to the side of the cabin facing the pond. The ground was a little sunken, and some of the boards had rotted and fallen away.
That was when Rose realized Martha meant to take her under the cabin. It . . . was not a bad idea at all, she realized. The tall reeds hid the opening the two girls ducked through, and it was actually quite roomy underneath in the light of the small flashlight Martha had pulled out.
“I think it used to be a root cellar,” she said, indicating a trapdoor in the middle of the cabin floor, or perhaps the cellar ceiling.
It was low enough that Rose had to scoot in backward on her rear, but it was dry and cool. Rose flopped down, exhausted in ways she hadn’t known were possible. Martha disappeared for a few more minutes. When she came back, she had the rest of their supplies with her. Rose fingered the longbow. It was an impressive weapon, much more powerful than her pistol bow.
“You’re good with those. That’s why I took it,” said Martha. “Have you eaten at all today?”
Morning seemed like days ago. “Some rabbit and berries.”
Martha nodded. “Can I take the pistol bow with me? I’ll get us some fish or game. I’ll make you something for the pain, too.”
At the moment, Rose was feeling extremely agreeable to whatever Martha had in mind. She handed over the pistol bow and quiver. Martha took them, but gave Rose a dissatisfied look.
“You might get shocky,” she said. “You need to stay warm, if possible.” She dug Rose’s sleeping bag out and manhandled her into it. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Just rest.”
Rose didn’t need to be told twice. She was asleep as soon as Martha left.
***
She awoke to the smell of fish cooking. For a moment, it was like she was back home. Opening her eyes, unfortunately, ruined that illusion.
Rose looked around and spotted Martha crouching over a cooking fire she’d situated just outside the root cellar. Something was boiling in Rose’s cooking pot, and Martha appeared to be roasting a fish in some coals she’d raked out.
“Martha?” she called, just to let the girl know she’d awakened.
Martha looked up and gave her a smile. “How are you feeling?”
Rose took an inventory. Her leg was throbbing, and, as she sat up, she felt a little dizzy. Other than that, though, she was surprisingly okay. Sleep had restored at least a little of her equilibrium.
“My leg hurts, but I’m okay,” was what she distilled it down to for Martha’s benefit.
Martha grabbed the tin cup from Rose’s mess kit, which had been sitting by the fire, and carried it over. “This should be cool enough to drink now. It’s willow bark tea. It’ll help with the pain.”
The smell was not promising, but Rose trusted Martha. Possibly, she thought, more than she should. But Rose had always had good instincts for people, and she followed them now. She drank the tea, which didn’t taste any better than it smelled.
“Bleah,” she said.
Martha chuckled. “Yeah, I know. But it’ll help, I promise. Ready for some dinner?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but went back to the fire. When she returned, she was carrying two big pieces of bark loaded with fish and bluish tubers. She gave one to Rose, along with a canteen of water and the fork from Rose’s mess kit, and sat down with her own, pulling out a multi-tool utility knife to eat with.
Rose looked down at the meal, and she looked over at her dining partner. “Let’s be allies.”
Martha gaped at her. “You want me as an ally? But I’m not much of a fighter.”
“I am,” said Rose. “I can fight, but don’t ask me to find my way through the woods without getting completely lost, or light a fire without matches, or hunt - the only reason I had that rabbit was because the Gamemakers blew it up - or remember half the plants from the foraging station. And I’d never have been able to treat my leg the way you did. I grew up in an industrial town. We don’t even have trees!” Martha giggled, and Rose went on. “You’ve got a lot of strengths I don’t have, Martha. I think we’d be stronger together. If you’ll be the brains, I’ll be the muscle.” She stuck out her hand. “Deal?”
Martha took it, grinning. “Deal.” She took a deep breath. “When should we separate?”
It was a sobering thought, but Rose appreciated Martha’s directness in bringing it up. “When we’re down to, say, six?”
The other girl nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. Until six.”
Deal struck, the girls turned to their food. Rose found she liked the tubers. “What are these?”
“Katniss. Arrowhead,” said Martha. “They grow in the pond.”
They ate the fish and katniss roots, along with the contents of Rose’s foraging bag. Martha also made Rose drink an entire canteen of water. After dinner, they laid out their supplies.
While Martha had fewer supplies than Rose, they weren’t inconsequential. She had a hand axe, which she said she could throw accurately, and Shella’s knife for weapons. She also had a canteen that was a little smaller than Rose’s, the multi-tool, the flashlight, a packet of crackers and one of peanuts, a pair of gloves, two loops of wire, and a strange-looking pair of binoculars. It all came out of a small, black backpack. Shella’s pack yielded another bottle of iodine, dried fruit, dried beef, crackers, a compact tarp and a compass.
“How do you purify your water?” Rose asked.
“I boil it. It’s always cold by morning if I do it at night, and I can always cool it in the river if I refill it during the day.” She got up. The ceiling was just high enough that she could stand on her feet as long as she bent over. “I’m going to set a few snares and put my fish trap back in the water. I’ll also check your pants; I washed the blood out of them and laid them out to dry earlier.”
While she was gone, Rose got curious about the binoculars. She discovered that you could break them into two components, regular binoculars and night-vision goggles. Together, they made night-vision binoculars. An asset, indeed.
In spite of the throbbing in her leg (which wasn’t nearly so bad now, thanks to Martha’s medicine) and the lingering weakness from her blood loss, Rose felt much better. Lighter. She wasn’t alone, and she had someone to teach her the basics of surviving off the land. Martha was, she decided, an incredibly capable person, especially for someone so young.
Martha returned, bringing Rose’s pants with her. “They’re still a little clammy around the waist, but I didn’t want to leave them out there all night.”
Rose took them. “Thanks. They were starting to smell, weren’t they?”
“I’m pretty sure we all stink by now,” laughed Martha.
The light was going fast, and Martha stood her flashlight on its end so they could see each other. “I saw that the boy you came with died,” she said. “Did you know each other?”
“A little,” Rose said. “We were in school together for a while. What about you and the boy from your district?”
“Tom.” Martha looked sober and sad. “He was a really nice guy. I knew him - our lumber camps were together for a few years - because he wanted to be a healer, too. He’s the only reason I have supplies now.” She hugged her knees. “I just ran from the Cornucopia. He found me later, like he knew what I’d do and where I’d be. He was badly wounded, and he told me he wanted me to have what he’d gotten. I - there wasn’t really anything I could do for him. He had a belly wound. He knew he was going to die slowly, so he asked me if I could - if I could help.” She swallowed. “I brought him some nightlock berries.”
There wasn’t anything Rose could say to that, so she reached out and hugged Martha close. Martha shuddered, but didn’t cry. It was something Rose could understand.
“Come on,” Rose finally said. “You can share my sleeping bag. It’s big enough for both of us.”
Martha accepted the invitation readily. Rose thought she must have had some cold nights. They snuggled together as the sun set and the anthem played. Martha had switched off her flashlight, and, very soon, the darkness was absolute.
“Why do you think Shella wasn’t with the other Careers?” Martha asked after the anthem.
“Dunno. Maybe she got separated from them because of the terror birds.” Rose thought about it. “Or, maybe it’s because there’s trouble in paradise in the Career camp. I overheard the Ones bitching about the others yesterday. I don’t think they’re getting along.”
Martha snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. I spied on their camp a little while ago, and the Twos were having a screaming argument with the Fours. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it way over on this side.”
Rose considered it. “We might be able to use that. I was thinking about how Donna, one of my mentors, won her Games. She said the Career pack got divided by the girl from One that year, and they started killing each other. What if we did something to upset the balance?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. But it’s worth thinking about.”
They lay quietly for a few minutes, and then Martha’s voice broke the silence. “Rose? Have you . . . killed anyone else?”
Rose swallowed. “Yeah. Toby. He jumped me at the Cornucopia. I had no choice.”
“Toby?” Martha sounded incredulous. “He was so afraid, though.”
“He was,” Rose agreed. “I think it broke him. I looked into his eyes, and it was like he wasn’t even there. That’s what the Games did to him.”
Martha shivered and cuddled closer to Rose. “I want to go home.”
“Yeah.” Rose hugged her, stroking her back. “So do I.”
They fell asleep holding onto each other.
***
The Games Center cameras hadn’t been able to find a good angle to see under the cabin, and the director had finally given up. Instead, a heat-image camera had been positioned above it, and it showed the sleeping girls as the evening’s guest commentator made uneducated guesses at how genuine the burgeoning friendship between Rose and Martha might be.
Donna, in the District 9 control room, looked over at her partner. “So. Think she’s standing out yet?”
“I’m not sure what to think,” the Doctor said.
“That’s a first.”
The Doctor hit a few buttons, bringing up Martha’s footage from the beginning of the Games. “Right now, I think it would be a good idea to have a look at this.”
They watched for an hour, skimming over the more boring parts. As soon as they caught up to where Martha met Rose, the Doctor turned back to the live footage. Donna caught a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, and hers narrowed.
“You’re plotting,” she said.
He gave her one of his rare, madman grins. “I might just be. Hold down the fort.” He stood and made for the door.
“Where are you off to?” Donna demanded.
“I know Jabe Cheem, one of the District 7 mentors,” said the Doctor. “I think now would be a very good time to have a little chat with her.”
Chapter 6: The Team
Fandoms: Doctor Who/The Hunger Games fusion
Rating: Teen+ for violence
Pairings: Rose-Martha friendship; Jack/everyone
Characters: Rose, Martha, Ninth Doctor, Donna, Reinette (expy), Jack Harkness, Jackie Tyler, Mickey Smith, River Song, loads more; HG characters come in more in Part 2, but Cinna, Caesar Flickerman, Claudius Templesmith, Plutarch Heavensbee, Finnick Odair and President Snow appear in this part; OCs Nokia, Lace, Gem, Sulla and Livia.
Summary: Rose Tyler is chosen for the Hunger Games. Martha Jones volunteers to save her little sister. When they meet in the arena, something happens that will change the world.
Chapter 1: The Reaping
Chapter 2: The Capitol
Chapter 3: The Tributes
Chapter 4: The Arena
Rose woke, cold and cramped, from a terrible dream in which Toby was coming after her with evil red eyes. It figured that what little sleep she’d been able to get had been plagued with nightmares. Her head ached and her legs were stiff from the cold; she hadn’t slept in her sleeping bag because she’d been too afraid she’d have to get up and run in the middle of the night.
The best she could say was that the night was finally over. The sun was up, so she decided it was time to get up.
There was still just a little bit of rabbit meat left over from last night’s dinner. She ate it before packing up and moving from her resting spot. Nearby was a small blackberry bush with a handful of ripe berries, which Rose picked and ate. She hoped there were more to be found; they were delicious, and she was still hungry.
Time to hunt, then. She decided to go back to the woods near the pond, where she’d spotted rabbits and squirrels, and she set off to find her way out of the thicket. No matter how hard she tried, though, she couldn’t seem to get her bearings back. Somehow, she’d gotten completely turned around, and she couldn’t see anything through the thick bushes and trees.
And then, mid-morning, a spine-chilling screech split the sky. Her feet rooted themselves to the spot, the sound drilling into her brain and finding her most primal fears.
Another screech, and Rose knew what today’s Gamemaker-sponsored fun was: Terror birds, a Capitol muttation used during the Dark Days. They could kill grown men with one strike. A few had nested in the wild near District 9, and very, very occasionally, you could hear them. Any that came close were shot down by the Peacekeepers, who had just as vested an interest in keeping them away as anyone.
There wasn’t much that could be done about terror birds. Their skin was so thick it could shrug off even small-arms fire, and they had eyes sharper than any hawk’s. Rose remembered her grandfather telling her, when she was very small, that if she ever heard a terror bird, she should get under something and then stay very still. They went after movement.
She hit the ground, rolling under some bushes. The hideous screams echoed back and forth across the arena. One swept low, its huge wings blotting out the sun, but it didn’t seem to notice Rose.
Endless minutes ticked by, and, finally, the sounds faded as the terror birds left the arena. Rose breathed out for what seemed like the first time since she’d heard the first scream, and she dared to come out from under the bush, dislodging a spider from her hair as she stood.
Too late, she heard the sounds coming toward her. Running feet, bodies crashing through the bushes -
They were on her before she could even draw her pistol bow. Martha sprang out of the thicket, twisted to avoid crashing into Rose, and tripped, falling to the ground. Shella from District 4 was hot on her heels, knife in hand.
Rose instinctively placed herself between Shella and Martha, drawing her own knife. She blocked Shella’s knife-wielding arm and stabbed toward the other girl’s body, but Shella was too quick, leaping back. The two squared off.
Knife fight. Yeah, Rose knew this.
“I was hunting her, but you’ll do just fine, Copper,” Shella snarled.
“Think you’ll find I’m better than fine,” said Rose.
Shella feinted left, but Rose didn’t fall for it. Instead, as Shella slashed downward and to Rose’s right, Rose stepped aside and caught her shoulder, throwing her off-balance. Shella flailed backward - but Rose already had a knife in her.
Shella looked surprised as she fell.
Rose stepped away from her. Unexpectedly, her right leg gave out, and she sat down hard. Something wasn’t right.
And then she realized that Shella’s knife had cut deeply into her right leg a couple of inches above the knee. It was bleeding heavily.
Shella’s cannon sounded as she died, and there was movement beside Rose. Martha was up on her feet again. She stared at Rose for a moment, then turned her attention to Shella. She knelt down, stripping a longbow and quiver of arrows, a canteen and a backpack from the dead girl. She also took Shella’s knife and used it to cut a strip of her jacket off.
Rose watched her with detached fascination, thinking that any second, the younger girl would run off with her purloined supplies. Instead, Martha dumped them next to Rose, said, “Hold on a minute,” and disappeared into the thicket.
She was back moments later, kneeling down next to Rose’s wounded leg. She examined the knife cut and then opened up the tear in Rose’s pants a little wider. Rose saw Martha was holding a handful of thick moss, which she pressed against the wound and tied in place with the fabric she’d cut from Shella’s jacket.
“There,” she said. “You won’t be leaving a blood trail now. Let’s get this stuff and go somewhere safe.”
Rose was still feeling stunned from the fight and her injury and the odd twist the game had suddenly taken. Martha gathered up what she’d taken off of Shella, and then she pulled Rose to her feet. For someone so tiny, she was strong.
“Lean on me,” she said, and Rose had no choice but to comply. Martha looked around at what, to Rose, had seemed an almost impassible wood, and she confidently picked a trail, helping Rose limp along. In minutes, they were out of the woods and heading across the clearing near the pond toward the dilapidated cabin.
Martha sat her down in the open doorway of the cabin. It was a good place, only visible from one direction and still partially hidden by the tall grass. She knelt by Rose’s leg and untied the makeshift bandage so she could examine the wound.
“Not good,” she muttered. She spotted Rose’s canteen and unhooked it. “Is this water purified?” Rose stared at her. “Rose. Did you purify this water?”
“Um, yes,” said Rose, wondering why a cut that was bleeding so much didn’t hurt.
“Good. Did you boil it, or do you have iodine in your pack?” Martha began to unscrew the top of the canteen.
“I, uh, I have a medical kit,” Rose said, feeling it ought to be mentioned.
Martha’s head whipped up. “You do? Let’s have it!” Rose continued to stare at her, feeling like she hadn’t quite caught up on what was happening. Martha looked her steadily in the eyes. “You can trust me, Rose. Just like I know I can trust you. I can help you if you’ll let me.”
Caught up or no, Rose knew she needed help. She took off her backpack and handed it to Martha, who dug out the medical kit and the iodine.
“We need to get you out of your pants,” said Martha. “I’ll help.”
It took a bit of doing, as Rose’s leg still wasn’t fully cooperating with her, but she got them off. So much blood . . .
Martha scrubbed her hands with disinfectant and then started cleaning the wound with water and iodine. That hurt. Rose gasped.
“Sorry, but it’s necessary,” said Martha. “I’m going to have to stitch this, and we can’t take the risk of sealing infection inside.”
“H-how do you know you can trust me?” Rose asked. It was, perhaps, not the best thing to say to the person who was doctoring you, but it was the only thing that came to mind.
“Your pin,” Martha said decisively. “You’ve got a wolf pin. I’ve got a mockingjay necklace. It’s like the stories.”
Rose focused on Martha’s wooden necklace. The bird was, indeed, a mockingjay. “What stories?”
“You don’t know about the Wolf and the Mockingjay? Well, maybe they’re just District 7 stories.” Martha pulled out a small, curved needle and thread. “You ready?”
Ready? When Rose’d had stitches after her first knife fight, the apothecary had at least given her a good slug of sleep syrup first. That wasn’t an option here.
“Why don’t you tell me one of those stories,” she suggested, feeling queasy.
Martha nodded, and, as she began to stitch up the wound, started talking.
“In the Time Before Time, when the Lady still walked the forests, the Wise Woman sought her out.
“ ‘Lady of the Forest,’ said the Wise Woman, ‘the People ask your help. A lone Wolf howls at night, and it fills them with fear. Why is the Wolf alone? Why does it sing of such pain? Will it attack people in its agony? We do not know.’
“The Lady considered this. She called for her good friend, the Mockingjay. ‘Find this Wolf,’ she said. ‘Bring its song back to me.’
“So the brave little Mockingjay sought after the Wolf and listened to its song. When it had learned it, it flew back to the Lady and sang the Wolf’s song to her.
“Then the Lady understood. The Wolf had lost its pack, its mate and its cubs. It called for them night after night, but they were all dead and gone. The Wolf’s loneliness consumed it, and it longed only for death.
“So the Lady sang her own song to the Mockingjay, and she sent it back to the Wolf. The Mockingjay sang the Lady’s song to the Wolf. It sang of peace, of home, of friendship and warmth. It sang until the Wolf’s grief and pain were soothed, and the Wolf followed the Mockingjay back to the Lady.
“The Lady greeted the Wolf as she would a friend, and she said, ‘You, Wolf, will never be alone again. I grieve your pack with you, but you must live on with their memory inside you. The Mockingjay will be your friend and companion, and you, Wolf, will now be a protector of the forest and the creatures within it.’
“The Wolf bowed its head and said, ‘Lady, it will be so. I thank you for your gift of a friend, the greatest gift I have ever been given, and I will forever protect the forest from all evil.’
“And from that day on, the Wolf and the Mockingjay were the greatest of friends, and the People learned to honor and respect the Wolf.”
Martha tied off the thread. The wound was now closed with small, neat stitches. Rose swallowed hard, hoping she wouldn’t throw up or faint. She’d felt every one of those stitches, but there was no doubt Martha was a talented healer.
The younger girl smeared the wounded area with antibiotic cream and applied a sterile pad to it, which she sealed over with a clear adhesive. “Done,” she said with some satisfaction. “I’ll have to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t get infected, but I think it should be fine.” She looked at Rose’s face. “Are you okay?”
In fact, Rose wasn’t feeling remotely okay, but she said, “Yeah. Thank you, Martha. I-I wouldn’t have known what to do.”
Martha smiled her very pretty smile and said, “One good turn deserves another. You saved my life back there. I was a sitting duck; you could’ve run, and she would’ve killed me.” She handed Rose Shella’s canteen. “Here. Drink what’s left in here; you lost a lot of blood.”
Rose did what she was told. “So, you’re a healer?” she asked.
“Yep. I’m apprenticed to Mr. Stoker, who’s been the healer for our camp since before I was born. You get some nasty injuries when something goes wrong with felling trees.” She stuffed the medical kit back in Rose’s pack. “You need somewhere safe to rest for at least a day or two, and I think I know just the place. Come on.”
“Without my pants?” Rose asked.
“It’s close, don’t worry.” Martha helped Rose, who felt quite exposed, up, and took her around to the side of the cabin facing the pond. The ground was a little sunken, and some of the boards had rotted and fallen away.
That was when Rose realized Martha meant to take her under the cabin. It . . . was not a bad idea at all, she realized. The tall reeds hid the opening the two girls ducked through, and it was actually quite roomy underneath in the light of the small flashlight Martha had pulled out.
“I think it used to be a root cellar,” she said, indicating a trapdoor in the middle of the cabin floor, or perhaps the cellar ceiling.
It was low enough that Rose had to scoot in backward on her rear, but it was dry and cool. Rose flopped down, exhausted in ways she hadn’t known were possible. Martha disappeared for a few more minutes. When she came back, she had the rest of their supplies with her. Rose fingered the longbow. It was an impressive weapon, much more powerful than her pistol bow.
“You’re good with those. That’s why I took it,” said Martha. “Have you eaten at all today?”
Morning seemed like days ago. “Some rabbit and berries.”
Martha nodded. “Can I take the pistol bow with me? I’ll get us some fish or game. I’ll make you something for the pain, too.”
At the moment, Rose was feeling extremely agreeable to whatever Martha had in mind. She handed over the pistol bow and quiver. Martha took them, but gave Rose a dissatisfied look.
“You might get shocky,” she said. “You need to stay warm, if possible.” She dug Rose’s sleeping bag out and manhandled her into it. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Just rest.”
Rose didn’t need to be told twice. She was asleep as soon as Martha left.
***
She awoke to the smell of fish cooking. For a moment, it was like she was back home. Opening her eyes, unfortunately, ruined that illusion.
Rose looked around and spotted Martha crouching over a cooking fire she’d situated just outside the root cellar. Something was boiling in Rose’s cooking pot, and Martha appeared to be roasting a fish in some coals she’d raked out.
“Martha?” she called, just to let the girl know she’d awakened.
Martha looked up and gave her a smile. “How are you feeling?”
Rose took an inventory. Her leg was throbbing, and, as she sat up, she felt a little dizzy. Other than that, though, she was surprisingly okay. Sleep had restored at least a little of her equilibrium.
“My leg hurts, but I’m okay,” was what she distilled it down to for Martha’s benefit.
Martha grabbed the tin cup from Rose’s mess kit, which had been sitting by the fire, and carried it over. “This should be cool enough to drink now. It’s willow bark tea. It’ll help with the pain.”
The smell was not promising, but Rose trusted Martha. Possibly, she thought, more than she should. But Rose had always had good instincts for people, and she followed them now. She drank the tea, which didn’t taste any better than it smelled.
“Bleah,” she said.
Martha chuckled. “Yeah, I know. But it’ll help, I promise. Ready for some dinner?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but went back to the fire. When she returned, she was carrying two big pieces of bark loaded with fish and bluish tubers. She gave one to Rose, along with a canteen of water and the fork from Rose’s mess kit, and sat down with her own, pulling out a multi-tool utility knife to eat with.
Rose looked down at the meal, and she looked over at her dining partner. “Let’s be allies.”
Martha gaped at her. “You want me as an ally? But I’m not much of a fighter.”
“I am,” said Rose. “I can fight, but don’t ask me to find my way through the woods without getting completely lost, or light a fire without matches, or hunt - the only reason I had that rabbit was because the Gamemakers blew it up - or remember half the plants from the foraging station. And I’d never have been able to treat my leg the way you did. I grew up in an industrial town. We don’t even have trees!” Martha giggled, and Rose went on. “You’ve got a lot of strengths I don’t have, Martha. I think we’d be stronger together. If you’ll be the brains, I’ll be the muscle.” She stuck out her hand. “Deal?”
Martha took it, grinning. “Deal.” She took a deep breath. “When should we separate?”
It was a sobering thought, but Rose appreciated Martha’s directness in bringing it up. “When we’re down to, say, six?”
The other girl nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. Until six.”
Deal struck, the girls turned to their food. Rose found she liked the tubers. “What are these?”
“Katniss. Arrowhead,” said Martha. “They grow in the pond.”
They ate the fish and katniss roots, along with the contents of Rose’s foraging bag. Martha also made Rose drink an entire canteen of water. After dinner, they laid out their supplies.
While Martha had fewer supplies than Rose, they weren’t inconsequential. She had a hand axe, which she said she could throw accurately, and Shella’s knife for weapons. She also had a canteen that was a little smaller than Rose’s, the multi-tool, the flashlight, a packet of crackers and one of peanuts, a pair of gloves, two loops of wire, and a strange-looking pair of binoculars. It all came out of a small, black backpack. Shella’s pack yielded another bottle of iodine, dried fruit, dried beef, crackers, a compact tarp and a compass.
“How do you purify your water?” Rose asked.
“I boil it. It’s always cold by morning if I do it at night, and I can always cool it in the river if I refill it during the day.” She got up. The ceiling was just high enough that she could stand on her feet as long as she bent over. “I’m going to set a few snares and put my fish trap back in the water. I’ll also check your pants; I washed the blood out of them and laid them out to dry earlier.”
While she was gone, Rose got curious about the binoculars. She discovered that you could break them into two components, regular binoculars and night-vision goggles. Together, they made night-vision binoculars. An asset, indeed.
In spite of the throbbing in her leg (which wasn’t nearly so bad now, thanks to Martha’s medicine) and the lingering weakness from her blood loss, Rose felt much better. Lighter. She wasn’t alone, and she had someone to teach her the basics of surviving off the land. Martha was, she decided, an incredibly capable person, especially for someone so young.
Martha returned, bringing Rose’s pants with her. “They’re still a little clammy around the waist, but I didn’t want to leave them out there all night.”
Rose took them. “Thanks. They were starting to smell, weren’t they?”
“I’m pretty sure we all stink by now,” laughed Martha.
The light was going fast, and Martha stood her flashlight on its end so they could see each other. “I saw that the boy you came with died,” she said. “Did you know each other?”
“A little,” Rose said. “We were in school together for a while. What about you and the boy from your district?”
“Tom.” Martha looked sober and sad. “He was a really nice guy. I knew him - our lumber camps were together for a few years - because he wanted to be a healer, too. He’s the only reason I have supplies now.” She hugged her knees. “I just ran from the Cornucopia. He found me later, like he knew what I’d do and where I’d be. He was badly wounded, and he told me he wanted me to have what he’d gotten. I - there wasn’t really anything I could do for him. He had a belly wound. He knew he was going to die slowly, so he asked me if I could - if I could help.” She swallowed. “I brought him some nightlock berries.”
There wasn’t anything Rose could say to that, so she reached out and hugged Martha close. Martha shuddered, but didn’t cry. It was something Rose could understand.
“Come on,” Rose finally said. “You can share my sleeping bag. It’s big enough for both of us.”
Martha accepted the invitation readily. Rose thought she must have had some cold nights. They snuggled together as the sun set and the anthem played. Martha had switched off her flashlight, and, very soon, the darkness was absolute.
“Why do you think Shella wasn’t with the other Careers?” Martha asked after the anthem.
“Dunno. Maybe she got separated from them because of the terror birds.” Rose thought about it. “Or, maybe it’s because there’s trouble in paradise in the Career camp. I overheard the Ones bitching about the others yesterday. I don’t think they’re getting along.”
Martha snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. I spied on their camp a little while ago, and the Twos were having a screaming argument with the Fours. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it way over on this side.”
Rose considered it. “We might be able to use that. I was thinking about how Donna, one of my mentors, won her Games. She said the Career pack got divided by the girl from One that year, and they started killing each other. What if we did something to upset the balance?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. But it’s worth thinking about.”
They lay quietly for a few minutes, and then Martha’s voice broke the silence. “Rose? Have you . . . killed anyone else?”
Rose swallowed. “Yeah. Toby. He jumped me at the Cornucopia. I had no choice.”
“Toby?” Martha sounded incredulous. “He was so afraid, though.”
“He was,” Rose agreed. “I think it broke him. I looked into his eyes, and it was like he wasn’t even there. That’s what the Games did to him.”
Martha shivered and cuddled closer to Rose. “I want to go home.”
“Yeah.” Rose hugged her, stroking her back. “So do I.”
They fell asleep holding onto each other.
***
The Games Center cameras hadn’t been able to find a good angle to see under the cabin, and the director had finally given up. Instead, a heat-image camera had been positioned above it, and it showed the sleeping girls as the evening’s guest commentator made uneducated guesses at how genuine the burgeoning friendship between Rose and Martha might be.
Donna, in the District 9 control room, looked over at her partner. “So. Think she’s standing out yet?”
“I’m not sure what to think,” the Doctor said.
“That’s a first.”
The Doctor hit a few buttons, bringing up Martha’s footage from the beginning of the Games. “Right now, I think it would be a good idea to have a look at this.”
They watched for an hour, skimming over the more boring parts. As soon as they caught up to where Martha met Rose, the Doctor turned back to the live footage. Donna caught a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, and hers narrowed.
“You’re plotting,” she said.
He gave her one of his rare, madman grins. “I might just be. Hold down the fort.” He stood and made for the door.
“Where are you off to?” Donna demanded.
“I know Jabe Cheem, one of the District 7 mentors,” said the Doctor. “I think now would be a very good time to have a little chat with her.”
Chapter 6: The Team