Author Games Compilation [Cycle 2]

Task 3 ▵ The Fall of the Aztecs [EEK]

Before the Games, she'd learned to hide. To live without a roof, to ration food, to be quiet. There was always an emphasis on being quiet. Hiding and living and eating meant nothing if the men and women who boasted knives heard you sneeze or cough and dragged you out by the hair to cut you down in the middle of the street. So above all, you had to be quiet.

She remembers being awoken to her father, a finger pressed to his lips as she awoke from a groggy slumber. She propped herself up on her elbows and squinted against the candlelight on the nightstand. His face wavered, hollow, against the dim illumination. "Don't say anything," he whispered. "The rebels are raiding. We need to be quiet."

"Dad-"

A distant pop cut her off, echoing somewhere out in the mountains. The sleep seemed to disappear at that point, and her father clenched his jaw. It wasn't like him. With heavy creases raised into his forehead, he scooped her out of bed and held her up to his shoulder with one arm. With the other, he power-walked through the house, grabbing up bits and pieces: socks, jackets, hats, gloves. He fumbled when another resounding gunshot broke through the quarry village but left what he'd dropped where it was, hurrying to the back door instead. Her mother stood there, fully clothed for a hike, pack on her shoulders and all. Her mouth twitched as she peered up at her husband, Ellie in his arms, craning back to see her. The woman tried to smile for her daughter's sake. It melted into a grimace.

"Ready, Theia?"

She hesitated, but nodded. Her hand rested on the door handle, twisting around and around and around as she bit into her lip. "We'll need to book it. Get those socks and coats on her first, for Christ's sake."

He hurried with the demand and then lifted Ellie back into his arms again, arms free to hold her tight, hold her fast. His arms shook. "Are we gonna die, mama?"

Theia was quick, perhaps too quick. "No. We'll burn this district to the ground before anyone so much as touches a hair on any of our heads. Let's go."

It was shocking, coming from her mother - she was always proud of Two, always boasting of its loyalties, of its opportunities. Ellie expected quite the opposite response, for her to say they'd lay down their own lives before they let Two burn, but she didn't have time to question because by then the door had been slung open, the icy air had kissed her cheek and made her gasp, and they were crunching through the snow faster than she'd ever seen either of them move before. It was always a terrifying thing to see your parents move faster than usual. It always meant something was wrong; it always meant they were scared.

She tightened her hold around her father's neck as they broke through the forestry at the back of their house, but not for her sake, not really. It was more for his. She didn't want him to shake that way anymore. It didn't work, though.

Eventually, her mother stopped and slung her arm out, forcing them to bump into her and nearly send everyone to the ground. She caught her bearings easily, though, and ran her hands over a length of pine needles. She brushed them aside, and there they had it, an opening. "This is it," Theia said, gesturing them inside, "get in. I'll cover us."

Her father set her down gently in front of the opening and she crawled in without question. It was a small dome, she realized as she felt around, and it was pitch black aside from the reflection of moonlight in the snow outside the opening, but it was warmer than outside. No wind. As she scooted into the back corner, she brushed against fabric. Blankets, maybe, or packs. Both?

He crawled in next, and after some fussing around outside, so did her mother. They bumped around her and pulled out the packs, the blankets, laid everything out. "Cold?" he asked Ellie. He threw a blanket over and under her legs even though she didn't answer. He'd said to be quiet, so that's what she was going to do.