The Arena [Sunday, Fandom time]
Katniss wasn't sure how long they'd stayed on the beach -- only that they'd been in agony for the whole time. They lay on the beach, twitching and gasping in the wake of the gas attack, until Peeta vaguely gestured upwards. "Mon-hees," he pointed out, his throat swollen with burns. Katniss looked up and spotted a pair of monkeys, though the only time she'd ever seen any in person had been at the zoo. These had orange fur, and were about half the size of an average human.
She took them as a good sign, because they wouldn't hang around if the air was still deadly, she was sure. For a while, they quietly observed one another, humans and monkeys. Then Peeta struggled to his knees and crawled down the slope. They all crawled, since walking now seemed as remarkable a feat as flying; they crawled until the vines turned to a narrow strip of sandy beach and the warm water that surrounded the Cornucopia lapped at their faces. Katniss jerked back as if she'd touched an open flame.
Rubbing salt in a wound. For the first time, she truly appreciated the expression, because the salt in the water made the pain of her wounds so blinding she nearly blacked out. But there was another sensation, of drawing out. She experimented by gingerly placing only her hand in the water. Torturous, yes, but then less so. And through the blue layer of water, she could see a milky substance leaching out of the wounds on her skin. As the whiteness diminished, so did the pain. She unbuckled her belt and stripped off her jumpsuit, which was little more than a perforated rag. Her shoes and undergarments were inexplicably unaffected. Little by little, one small portion of a limb at a time, she soaked the poison out of her wounds. Peeta seemed to be doing the same. But Finnick had backed away from the water at first touch and lay facedown on the sand, either unwilling or unable to purge himself.
When she had survived the worst -- opening her eyes underwater -- Katniss was able to help Finnick, pouring little handfuls of the water over his skin and watching the fog come out. Eventually, she and Peeta pulled him entirely into the water and let him soak there, his head in Katniss's lap. And she and Peeta exchanged a smile as Finnick lifted his arms above water.
---
Peeta had left Katniss with Finnick while he went to tap a tree, and after watching the boy from District Four swim around like some amphibious sea animal for awhile, Katniss decided they'd go find Peeta since Finnick was clearly fine.
But in the short time it took to cross to the edge of the jungle, Katniss was aware of the change. Credit the years of hunting, but she immediately sensed the warm bodies above them. They didn't need to chatter or scream. The sheer breathing of so many was enough.
She touched Finnick's arm, and he followed her gaze up. She had no idea how they arrived so silently, but there were scores and scores of the monkeys they'd spotted earlier. Those two had seemed like a good sign. This was ominous.
Katniss armed her bow, and Finnick adjusted his trident. "Peeta," she said, calmly as possible. "I need your help with something."
“Okay, just a minute. I think I've just about got it,” he said, still occupied with the tree. “Yes, there. Have you got the spile?”
“I do. But we've found something you'd better take a look at,” she continued in a measured voice. “Only move toward us quietly, so you don't startle it.” She didn't want him to notice the monkeys, or even glance their way.
The tone of her request was so odd that it alerted him to some irregularity. “Okay,” he said casually. He began to move through the jungle, and although Katniss could tell he was trying hard to be quiet, this had never been his strong suit, even when he had two sound legs.
But he was moving, and the monkeys were holding their positions. He was just five yards from the beach when he sensed them. His eyes only darted up for a second, but it was as if he'd triggered a bomb. The monkeys exploded into a shrieking mass of orange fur and converged on him.
They moved too fast, leaping impossible distances, their claws shooting out like switchblades. Animals in nature didn't act like this. "Mutts!" Katniss spit out as she and Finnick ran into the jungle.
Every arrow had to count, and it did. But eventually she did run out, even taking out a monkey for every shot. Then she remembered that Peeta had a sheath, too, though he was occupied with using his knife arm. "Peeta!" she yelled. "Arrows!"
He understood and was shifting to give her the sheath, but it put Peeta in a defenseless position. And Katniss could hear Finnick's trident find another mark as a monkey targeted Peeta.
Weaponless, defenseless, she did the only thing she could think of, and ran for Peeta to stop the monkey from reaching him, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to make it.
Someone else did, though.
She seemed to come from thin air, materializing in front of Peeta and already bloody, her mouth open in a high-pitched scream. The insane morphling from District Six held her arms out to the monkey to block Peeta, as though to embrace the creature, and it sank its fangs into her chest.
---
The monkeys did retreat, suddenly, just as the gas had seemed to hit a wall before. Peeta had taken the morphling, carrying her out to the sand where Katniss cut away the material on her chest. By the positioning of the four puncture wounds, Katniss could tell something vital had been severed, maybe even the morphling's heart.
She lay on the sand, gasping. Everything about her spoke of waste-her body, her life, the vacant look in her eyes. Her ribs were as prominent as a child's in starvation, though of course she could have afforded food. But she'd clearly turned to morphling, the way Haymitch had turned to drink.
There was nothing they could do. Nothing but stay with her while she died.
"I'll watch the trees," Finnick volunteered, walking away. Katniss would have liked to, too, but the morphling held her hand so tightly that any escape would have been impossible. And she couldn't leave, anyway. This was like Rue, though she didn't know the morphling's name, or even if she liked songs. Only that she was dying, and she'd kept Peeta from doing so.
Peeta began to talk to her, soothing, about his paints, and Katniss remembered that he had entertained the two from Six with the camouflage station during training. As Peeta spoke, the morphling lifted a hand, painting what Katniss thought might be a flower on Peeta's cheek.
"Thank you," he whispered. "That's beautiful."
For a moment she grinned. Then she gave a last huff of breath, and the grip on Katniss's hand was released. Peeta carried her out to the water, where she drifted for a moment before the four-pronged claw of a hovercraft appeared and took her away.
---
Eventually morning came. Katniss found that not only had Finnick been busy catching fish, but that she had been scratching her wounds in her sleep. As Finnick told her that that would cause infection, Katniss rolled her eyes. "Hey, Haymitch," she said aloud, looking around for a camera. "If you're not too drunk, maybe send us something for our skin?"
And that was when the silver parachute containing the gray-green mixture appeared. As Katniss smoothed it on, it stained her skin a mottled color, but relieved the itching, and she had to stifle a sound of pleasure before handing it to Finnick.
The most fun she'd ever had in an arena came when she and Finnick painted their faces, and scared the poor sleeping Peeta.
Finnick Odair may have been all right, she'd decided. And just as this conclusion was reached, another parachute descended, this time with bread. Remembering from last year how Haymitch's gifts were often timed to send a message, Katniss made a note to herself. Be friends with Finnick. You'll get food.
Finnick turned the bread over in his hands, examining the crust. A bit too possessively. It wasn't necessary. It had that green tint from seaweed that the bread from District 4 always had. They all knew it was his. But all he said was, “This will go well with the shellfish.”
[second post is coming up! Warning for violence and character death as per usual. NFB, NFI, OOC welcome, stolen from Catching Fire]
She took them as a good sign, because they wouldn't hang around if the air was still deadly, she was sure. For a while, they quietly observed one another, humans and monkeys. Then Peeta struggled to his knees and crawled down the slope. They all crawled, since walking now seemed as remarkable a feat as flying; they crawled until the vines turned to a narrow strip of sandy beach and the warm water that surrounded the Cornucopia lapped at their faces. Katniss jerked back as if she'd touched an open flame.
Rubbing salt in a wound. For the first time, she truly appreciated the expression, because the salt in the water made the pain of her wounds so blinding she nearly blacked out. But there was another sensation, of drawing out. She experimented by gingerly placing only her hand in the water. Torturous, yes, but then less so. And through the blue layer of water, she could see a milky substance leaching out of the wounds on her skin. As the whiteness diminished, so did the pain. She unbuckled her belt and stripped off her jumpsuit, which was little more than a perforated rag. Her shoes and undergarments were inexplicably unaffected. Little by little, one small portion of a limb at a time, she soaked the poison out of her wounds. Peeta seemed to be doing the same. But Finnick had backed away from the water at first touch and lay facedown on the sand, either unwilling or unable to purge himself.
When she had survived the worst -- opening her eyes underwater -- Katniss was able to help Finnick, pouring little handfuls of the water over his skin and watching the fog come out. Eventually, she and Peeta pulled him entirely into the water and let him soak there, his head in Katniss's lap. And she and Peeta exchanged a smile as Finnick lifted his arms above water.
---
Peeta had left Katniss with Finnick while he went to tap a tree, and after watching the boy from District Four swim around like some amphibious sea animal for awhile, Katniss decided they'd go find Peeta since Finnick was clearly fine.
But in the short time it took to cross to the edge of the jungle, Katniss was aware of the change. Credit the years of hunting, but she immediately sensed the warm bodies above them. They didn't need to chatter or scream. The sheer breathing of so many was enough.
She touched Finnick's arm, and he followed her gaze up. She had no idea how they arrived so silently, but there were scores and scores of the monkeys they'd spotted earlier. Those two had seemed like a good sign. This was ominous.
Katniss armed her bow, and Finnick adjusted his trident. "Peeta," she said, calmly as possible. "I need your help with something."
“Okay, just a minute. I think I've just about got it,” he said, still occupied with the tree. “Yes, there. Have you got the spile?”
“I do. But we've found something you'd better take a look at,” she continued in a measured voice. “Only move toward us quietly, so you don't startle it.” She didn't want him to notice the monkeys, or even glance their way.
The tone of her request was so odd that it alerted him to some irregularity. “Okay,” he said casually. He began to move through the jungle, and although Katniss could tell he was trying hard to be quiet, this had never been his strong suit, even when he had two sound legs.
But he was moving, and the monkeys were holding their positions. He was just five yards from the beach when he sensed them. His eyes only darted up for a second, but it was as if he'd triggered a bomb. The monkeys exploded into a shrieking mass of orange fur and converged on him.
They moved too fast, leaping impossible distances, their claws shooting out like switchblades. Animals in nature didn't act like this. "Mutts!" Katniss spit out as she and Finnick ran into the jungle.
Every arrow had to count, and it did. But eventually she did run out, even taking out a monkey for every shot. Then she remembered that Peeta had a sheath, too, though he was occupied with using his knife arm. "Peeta!" she yelled. "Arrows!"
He understood and was shifting to give her the sheath, but it put Peeta in a defenseless position. And Katniss could hear Finnick's trident find another mark as a monkey targeted Peeta.
Weaponless, defenseless, she did the only thing she could think of, and ran for Peeta to stop the monkey from reaching him, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to make it.
Someone else did, though.
She seemed to come from thin air, materializing in front of Peeta and already bloody, her mouth open in a high-pitched scream. The insane morphling from District Six held her arms out to the monkey to block Peeta, as though to embrace the creature, and it sank its fangs into her chest.
---
The monkeys did retreat, suddenly, just as the gas had seemed to hit a wall before. Peeta had taken the morphling, carrying her out to the sand where Katniss cut away the material on her chest. By the positioning of the four puncture wounds, Katniss could tell something vital had been severed, maybe even the morphling's heart.
She lay on the sand, gasping. Everything about her spoke of waste-her body, her life, the vacant look in her eyes. Her ribs were as prominent as a child's in starvation, though of course she could have afforded food. But she'd clearly turned to morphling, the way Haymitch had turned to drink.
There was nothing they could do. Nothing but stay with her while she died.
"I'll watch the trees," Finnick volunteered, walking away. Katniss would have liked to, too, but the morphling held her hand so tightly that any escape would have been impossible. And she couldn't leave, anyway. This was like Rue, though she didn't know the morphling's name, or even if she liked songs. Only that she was dying, and she'd kept Peeta from doing so.
Peeta began to talk to her, soothing, about his paints, and Katniss remembered that he had entertained the two from Six with the camouflage station during training. As Peeta spoke, the morphling lifted a hand, painting what Katniss thought might be a flower on Peeta's cheek.
"Thank you," he whispered. "That's beautiful."
For a moment she grinned. Then she gave a last huff of breath, and the grip on Katniss's hand was released. Peeta carried her out to the water, where she drifted for a moment before the four-pronged claw of a hovercraft appeared and took her away.
---
Eventually morning came. Katniss found that not only had Finnick been busy catching fish, but that she had been scratching her wounds in her sleep. As Finnick told her that that would cause infection, Katniss rolled her eyes. "Hey, Haymitch," she said aloud, looking around for a camera. "If you're not too drunk, maybe send us something for our skin?"
And that was when the silver parachute containing the gray-green mixture appeared. As Katniss smoothed it on, it stained her skin a mottled color, but relieved the itching, and she had to stifle a sound of pleasure before handing it to Finnick.
The most fun she'd ever had in an arena came when she and Finnick painted their faces, and scared the poor sleeping Peeta.
Finnick Odair may have been all right, she'd decided. And just as this conclusion was reached, another parachute descended, this time with bread. Remembering from last year how Haymitch's gifts were often timed to send a message, Katniss made a note to herself. Be friends with Finnick. You'll get food.
Finnick turned the bread over in his hands, examining the crust. A bit too possessively. It wasn't necessary. It had that green tint from seaweed that the bread from District 4 always had. They all knew it was his. But all he said was, “This will go well with the shellfish.”
[second post is coming up! Warning for violence and character death as per usual. NFB, NFI, OOC welcome, stolen from Catching Fire]