Hunger Games: The Second Quarter Quell - The Story of Haymitch Abernathy

Chapter 13: The Final Five

Haymitch had made a beeline to the thick hedge on the West side of the arena the moment they'd gotten ahold of the blowtorch, and nothing would be an interruption to this. 

He and Maysilee spent the entire eleventh day in the arena marching through thickening forest, and Haymitch burned their way with the blowtorch, which sat proudly in his fingers. He planned to do the same on the twelfth day – the place they'd spent the night was so painfully close, he could feel it.

Blowtorch, once again, in hand, Haymitch took the lead, a few steps ahead of a quiet Maysilee. She hadn't spoken much since the tenth day, though Haymitch didn't have time to be concerned. What if whatever was behind the hedge was the key to their escape? Or at least something useful? 

Mid-morning came sooner than expected, and the sound of a canon echoed through the arena as Maysilee planted herself beside a tree on the path, watching as Haymitch turned in frustration.

'We have to keep moving. We can't stop,' Haymitch mumbled frustratedly, turning back to the path to continue walking.

'Why?' Maysilee questioned, crossing her arms over her chest, 'I'm not going any further without an answer.'

Sighing, Haymitch turned, taking a couple steps back towards Maysilee. 'Because this has to end somewhere, right? The arena can't go on forever,' he pointed out, observing Maysilee's sceptical expression.

'What do expect to find?' she quipped, raising her eyebrows.

'I don't know. Maybe something we can use,' Haymitch said dismissively, turning back to the track and feeling a jolt in his heartbeat as he glimpsed what was ahead of them. 

Just up through the trees, dark and dense, sat the infamous hedge. Haymitch hastened his speed as they walked towards it, brandishing the blowtorch and watching with a proud grin as the thick, weaving branches began to burn away. As soon as he'd made a whole just big enough to climb through, he did, waiting a moment for Maysilee to follow. 

She did, of course, reluctantly, brushing her hair from her eyes as they observed what lay ahead of them. A vast, green field, which stretched up over a hill, was all they could see from where they stood.

'Come on,' Haymitch urged, ignoring Maysilee's frustrated groan. 

The hill ahead was steep and tiring, but Haymitch was determined. By the time noon hit, and the sun was high in the sky, they finally reached the peak, and wandered over it across another smaller, grassy patch, to a rocky cliffside, which seemingly led down into an endless array of trees and rocks. 

Maysilee sighed, watching as Haymitch stepped ahead to the edge of the cliff.

'That's all there is, Haymitch. Let's go back now,' she suggested. Haymitch shook his head, staring over the rocks down below.

'No. I'm staying here,' he responded bitterly, refusing to believe this was it. There had to be something more. The arena couldn't go on forever... could it?

'Alright. There are only five of us. May as well say goodbye now. Don't want it to come down to the two of us,' Maysilee murmured, and Haymitch felt a twinge of desperation. This was what he'd always been saying. He never wanted an ally in the first place, just in case they were the final two in the Games. So why now did it hurt so much more?

Haymitch wasn't one to beg. He wasn't one to try and stop her from leaving. It would be pointless, anyway. Maysilee was right – he didn't want to have to try and kill her if it came down to it.