The Rebel Victor | I [THG]

Chapter Twenty-Three | "Don't forget the real enemy Quinn."

The night dragged on, the whispy clouds reflected the colors of the fake night sky like glass. Quinn could have sworn she could touch it, but then again her head throbbed and she could barely see straight. And she was scared to move because even inch she moved, she felt her entire body ache...but how could she stick around with Fiona? The same tribute that was plotting her murder at that very moment, every time Quinn began to drift to sleep that thought came back. And whenever Fiona told her to get some rest, Quinn knew she just wanted to get it over with. So eventually, Quinn decided that she would have to act better. She she forced herself up and rested her back against a tree, looking in Fiona's direction. Beside her was her backpack and across her lap was her spear.

"You should get some rest,"

Quinn shook her head, "I'm fine."

Fiona sighed, defeated. "Fine, if you won't, I will." she said, a yawn escaping her lips as she moved her backpack so it would be a pillow.

Quinn watched her roll and over and remained silent. After a moment, Fiona rolled onto her back and her chest rose and fell at a steady pace. She fell asleep quickly, which made sense. She was probably exahausted. Quinn sat in silence for maybe about ten minutes before she began even considering her options. And she only had two.

Kill her first or leave her before she can kill you.

Quinn ran her fingers across the spear in her lap for a moment. The cool silver had yet to kill anyone, it was still clean of blood. She knew it would have to kill someone eventually, and wasn't this the perfect opprotunity? Fiona was a sitting duck. Defenseless, sound asleep-- she wouldn't know what hit her until it was to late.

Quinn looked around for a moment before looking back at Fiona. She then stabbed the spear into the ground and pulled herself up to her feet, she swayed back and forth. She couldn't fight off Fiona if she was awake...but she was asleep now.

She swooped down and grabbed the backpack and flinging it onto her back. It was quite heavier than before, the damp hoodie made it much heavier. She had put it away in case they needed to make a quick get away. Quinn quietly pushed through the long grass that was between the lake and the woods. She knew that she shouldn't have been doing anything on her own, but she couldn't stay there. Not with a career.

Quinn made her way across the large valley, and then hesitantly began the steep incline again to go up. She would be fine for a few days. She had water, and if she was going to get any good sort of food, she'd have to rely on Finnick. The steep incline seemed to last forever. It caused her to sweat even more than before, but the thought that she was finally without another career, it was reassuring. Fiona would probably wake up not knowing where she is, and maybe angry that she had gotten away.

The sweating.

The aching.

The headache...

It all added more and more pain with every step. And the few burns she had gotten didn't help. She knew what had broughten on this fever, it was that mist. And Fiona was probably lying about it being tracker jacker venom. She wanted to be able to tell Quinn a reason why she was all of a sudden thinking these things. But it all made sense...

The mist that she had been trapped in, whatever she had inhaled, whatever that was that got into her system-- she was hijacked. She had learned about it a bit in school when they learned about different punishment methods used during the dark days. Hallucinations of any kind, seeing, hearing, or even just thinking things. Maybe that's all this was. Thinking Fiona would backstab her-- literally could have just been a outcome of her fever. But it was bound to happen.

Once she had slowly made her way to the top of the ridge, she got a clear view of the mountain valley's that she hadn't been to yet. The one before her was plain, full of long grass. It was a bit smaller than the others, but towards the other side of it, she could see the dark shadows from the purple sky of other tributes. Two, maybe three-- too many for her to take on alone. Then as she looked around, she could see the shadowed mountains that surrounded the valley's. She was high enough above the two valley's on either side that she could see that she could easily walk along the ridge and stay out of harms way a bit longer.

Quinn scratched the back of her neck, the burns were beginning to bug her a bit more than before. She took a deep breath, readying herself for the long hike-- that she was going to be on. But the burns seemed to get more and more irritating as beads of sweat hit them.

Before she could start walking, she heard a quiet whistle. Her eyes darted up towards the sky, and a few yard in front of her, she saw the shadow of a parachute descending to the ground, aimed perfectly for the ridge. So she hurried towards it, practically falling to her knees because of how tired she was and how desperate she already was after just the first two days in the arena. Attached to the parachute was a bottle of sorts, inside it was a thick, green goo that had a label on it that read BURNS. Then tied to the top of it was a folded up piece of paper. She unfolded it, and saw handwriting that was too messy to be Mags.

Don't forget the real enemy, Quinn. It's not Fiona. -F