The Spark Of War ➳ Finnick Odair ²

1 | The Spark

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Chapter One
THE SPARK
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It must be getting toward noon now and the days are so short. No point in being in the woods after dark if you don't have to. I stamp out the remains of my little fire, clear up the scraps of food, and tuck Teak's gloves in my belt.

I trudge through the woods and reach my old house while there's still light. I decide to find Nolan next. I run into him as he is leaving the Victor's Village.

"Been in the woods?" he asks. You can see that he doesn't think it's a good idea.

"For a little bit. Going to town?" I ask.

"Yes. I'm supposed to eat dinner with my family," he says.

"Well, I can at least walk you in." The road from the Victor's Village to the square gets little use. It's a safe enough place to talk. But I can't seem to get the words out. Proposing it to Willow was such a disaster. I gnaw on my chapped lips. The sqaure gets closer with every step. I may not have an opportunity again soon. I take a deep breath and let the words rush out. "Nolan, there's been talk of rebellion, and the victors of last year and the key. We've been told little of the Quarter Quell but we know enough that we need to keep them safe, are you in?"

Nolan takes my arm, bringing me to a stop. He doesn't need to check my face to see if I'm being serious. "There's already an uprising in District Eight. I'm in." he says. He looks off in the distance behind me. "What's that?"

I lift my chin. I've been so consumed with my own worries, I haven't noticed the strange noise coming from the square. A whistling, the sound of an impact, the intake of breath from a crowd.

"Come on," Nolan says, his face suddenly hard. I don't know why. I can't place the sound, even guess at the situation. But it means something bad to him.

When we reach the square, it's clear something's happening, but the crowd's too thick to see. Nolan steps up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers me a hand while he scans the square. I'm hallways up when he suddenly blocks my way. "Get down. Get out of here!" He's whispering, but his voice is harsh with insistence.

"What?" I say trying to force my way back up.

"Go home, Ember! I'll be there in a minute, I promise!" he says.

Whatever it is, it's terrible. I yank away from his hand and begin to push my way through the crowd. People see me, recognize my face, and then look panicked. Hands shove me back. But by this point, my heart is beating so fast and fierce I hardly hear them telling me to leave. I only know that whatever waits in the middle of the square is meant for me. When I finally break through to the cleared space, I am right. And Nolan was right.

A person I recognize from school is bound to a wooden post. His jacket has been cast aside on the ground, his shirt torn away. He slumps unconscious on his knees, held up only by the ropes at his wrists. What used to be his back is a raw, bloody slab of meat.

Standing behind him is a man I've never seen, but recognize his uniform. It's the one designated for our Head Peacekeeper. This isn't the old Quill, though. This is a tall, muscular man with sharp creases in his pants.

The pieces of the picture do not quite come together until I see his arm raise the whip.

"No!" I cry, and spring forwards. It's too late to stop the arm from descending, and I instinctively know I won't have the power to block it. Instead I throw myself directly between the whip and the person who I never knew their name. I've flung out my arms to protect as much of his broken body as possible, so there's nothing to deflect the lash. I take the full force of it across the left side of my face.

The pain is blinding and instantaneous. Jagged flashes of light cross my vision and I fall to my knees. One hand I can already feel the welt rising up, the swelling closing my eye. The stones beneath me are wet with his blood, the are heavy with its scent. "Stop it! You'll kill him!" I shriek.

I catch a glimpse of my assailant's face. Hard, with deep lines, a cruel mouth. Gray hair shaved almost to nonexistence, eyes so black they seem all pupils, a long, straight nose reddened by the freezing air. The powerful arm lifts again, his sights set on me. I grit my teeth in anticipation of the next lash.

"Hold it!" A voice barks. Nolan appears and trips over a Peacekeeper lying on the ground. A huge purple lump pushes through the red hair on his forehead. He's knocked out but still breathing. What happened? Did he try to come to his aid before I got here?

Nolan ignores him and pulls me to my feet roughly. I see a flicker of recognition in the eyes of the man with the whip. Bundles against the cold, my face free of makeup, my braid tucked carelessly under my coat, it wouldn't be easy to identify me as the victor of the Hunger Games, Especially with half of my face swelling up. But Nolan has been showing up on television for years, longer than I have, and he's been difficult to forget.

The man rests the whip on his hips. "She interrupted the punishment of a confessed criminal."

Everything about this man, his commanding voice, his odd accent, warns of an unknown and dangerous threat. Where was he from? District 11? District 3? From the Capitol itself?

"I don't care if she blew up the blasted Justice Building! Look at her cheek! Think that will be ready in a week?" Nolan snarls.

He lets us go after that, after Nolan threatened to call the Captiol and report him. He lets us take the man to someone who knows how to use medicine to heal him. That has always been something that I have never been good at.

Me and Nolan head home after that and he informs me that I need to put ice on my eye to keep the swelling down. And that's s exactly what I did as I went into my empty home and he went into his. My house has been empty now for nearly three years. Ever since I made the mistake of fighting back and Snow had my mother killed.

If she was here now then she would know just what to say to make me feel better, but she isn't. I'm tempted to call Finnick and tell him what all has happened, but one look at the time and I decide against it. It is getting late here and the time is dfferent where he is, it's already dark there.

I make my way through my house and into my bedroom where I fall asleep quickly. My dreams are still haunted by nightmares, even after all these years. Even after neary ten years, I still wake up screaming. I still find myself crying over the friends I lost in the arena. I don't think they will ever stop.

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Hey guys, thanks for reading! And welcome to the first chapter of the sequel. I am really excited for this. If any of you haven't read the first book, Ember in the Flames, then I would suggest that you read it first although it's not required to understand this book.

Let me know what you guys think and I look forward to writing more of it.

Also thank you guys so much for 100 reads!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you did then don't forget to vote and comment!