𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 ❪ clove kentwell ❫

𝒙𝒊𝒊. the boy from one

★★★

I FREEZE. I'M DOWNSTREAM, CONCEALED by some kind of plant growing on the banks of the river, so he hasn't spotted me yet. My adrenaline kicks into overdrive, the familiar buzz of nerves rushing through me. Do something, don't panic, what is he doing?

Marvel looks back and forth frantically, and it's then that I realize he's holding a spear. I remember the Training Center, the look in his eye when he threw spear after spear at the training dummies, piercing each one through the heart. A trickle of ice runs through my veins.

Marvel dashes further up the stream, and I almost think that he won't notice me until his head snaps around and we make direct eye contact.

Oh, no.

His face breaks out into a wide smile, and I scramble to my feet, stumbling into a clumsy run in the other direction. I don't look back, but I hear the scuffle as he leaps into chase. Please don't throw the spear, don't—

I hear the whistling sound and leap to the side, just barely dodging the spear as it sails past me and into the stream with a splash. Marvel yells a curse, and I risk a glance behind me to see him starting to catch up.

Suddenly, I don't hear his footsteps anymore. I look back to see the ends of Marvel's jacket disappearing into the woods upstream, his spear retrieved from the water. He's headed straight for the camp.

I stop to catch my breath, legs burning, and chase after him. I have no doubts about Thresh being able to protect Rue, but what if... My brain cycles through several scenarios that all end up with everyone dead, including me.

Why am I like this?

Marvel must hear my footsteps behind him, because he turns to look at me over his shoulder. A flicker of surprise passes across his face, quickly replaced by a sneer. "Fancy seeing you here, Three," he calls, not even sounding out of breath as he resumes running.

"Same to you," I manage to get out between pants. I recognize a particular reddish-tinged rock on the banks of the stream. We must be less than five minutes away from camp now. I try to think fast. What to do? I'm no use in single combat, and—

There's a squawk from Marvel. I almost zoom right past him, the Career having gotten tangled up in a mess of branches. Skidding to a stop and doubling back, I wheeze a breath, looking up. "Stuck?"

Marvel shrieks, so high-pitched I wince. "Don't talk to me!"

He flails wildly, and I take a few steps back to evaluate the situation. The tall boy has gotten himself snared in the low-hanging branches of a large, spindly tree—his jacket's caught on a branch. Marvel's feet are dangling off the ground, and he kicks the air frantically as he tries to get out.

Then I notice his spear, laying on the ground. He must have dropped it. I wheeze again, starting to regain my breathing, and the wheezing gradually turns to breathless laughter. The Capitol audience must be getting a kick out of this.

Marvel stops his thrashing and crosses his arms, fixing me with a death glare. "What?"

"Just..." I clear my throat and wave a hand. "This. You being stuck. Sorry," I add.

My bluntness seems to annoy him to no end. "Some nerve you've got!" he huffs, tugging at his jacket. His sleeve is snarled in another branch, and he growls in frustration, giving up. "This is the Games. You're not supposed to—what are you doing?!"

I heft his spear in my hands and throw it as hard as I can into the stream, watching with satisfaction as it floats further downstream. I wipe off my hands and walk back. "Throwing away your spear."

"I can see that!" Marvel furiously yanks his sleeve free from one of the branches and reaches inside his jacket, pulling out a knife and beginning to slash at his confines. "Once I get free—"

Once you get free, we'll be long gone. I take that as my cue to leave, dashing off in the same direction he was originally headed in. I can hear him screaming curses after me and grin despite myself.

I bolt into the clearing at top speed, skidding to a halt. Thresh looks up quizzically from where he's struggling with tying a knot. Rue is nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Rue?" I ask quickly, out of breath and beginning to panic.

Thresh blinks. "She went to, uh, look at the land? She said she wouldn't be far."

"The boy from One—"

I'm cut off by a scream. A child's scream, not that far, like Thresh said. A young girl's scream. Rue.

Thresh reacts immediately, grabbing his rock and sprinting off faster than I ever would have thought. Which leaves me defenseless when a second later, Marvel charges into the clearing, knife in hand.

I turn to run, but it's too late. Marvel collides with me, making both of us tumble to the ground. I cry out as the wind is knocked from my lungs, and barely get a second to recover when he slashes me across the arm with the knife. I gasp as pain explodes across my skin.

"I've got you now," he says triumphantly, standing over me as I clutch at the blood dripping from my arm. There's a tear in the sleeve, quickly turning dark red. It's not deep enough to be fatal, but it hurts. Pain dims my vision, making it hard to think clearly.

Don't kill me. Please. Don't panic. I try to fight back the waves of adrenaline clouding my mind. Scrabbling blindly for something, anything, my fingers scrape at the end of a... stick?

Using some last reserve of my strength, I grasp the fallen branch and swing it as hard as I can at Marvel's arm. He yelps, caught off guard, and the knife slips out of his grasp. Seeing my victory, I desperately kick it out of reach.

Marvel snarls and turns around to look for it. His mistake. I surge up from the ground and punch him in the jaw with all the force I can muster. He stumbles back, turning back to face me with so much rage in his eyes I back up.

"Strangling isn't my usual method, but I'll make an exception this time," he hisses, advancing on me. "You're dead, Three."

"W-wait—" Talk your way out, he isn't that smart, isn't he? Do something, anything—"What about, um, what about Clove? Didn't she say not to—"

Marvel sneers, slowly walking forward. He's taking his time. He knows he's going to win. Hair messed up, face covered in little scratches from the branches, he looks insane. "I don't care about knife bitch and her dumb obsession with killing y—"

Now! I lunge forward, swinging a clumsy fist hard at his nose. Thanks for cutting my non-dominant arm. Making a less-than-neat hop back, I watch as he trips on his own feet, careening straight into a tree.

Marvel gasps, curses, and paws at his face. Blood leaks from his nose, his eyes streaming. "You little—"

Whatever insult he was going to say is interrupted by the boom of the cannon and then Rue, flying into the clearing and out the other side, followed closely by wild crashing sounds as Glimmer and Dana run from the undergrowth making chase.