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"FUCK!"
Aries had somehow lost Clover and Cato that night, mainly due to his steadily worsening eyesight. District 2 clearly took advantage of the moment to flee, and you could imagine just how infuriated that left him.
Not only did Clover manage to escape, but Aries now bore a cut that sliced diagonally across his right eye, starting at his eyebrow and carving a jagged path to his upper cheekbone. It was deep, and judging by how it looked now, it was well on its way to becoming a hideous scar.
He leaned his head against the coarse bark of a nearby tree, occasionally thumping it as if the impact might reset his vision. Each blink felt heavier, more desperate. His eye stung, and every time he wiped away the blood, it only seemed to flow more freely, worsening the wound. Medical supplies were nowhere within reach—not here, not now, not in this godforsaken arena.
"Shit," he muttered, glancing down at his palm as more blood dripped into it. He wasn't particularly devastated at the idea of losing an eye. In fact, he'd already come to terms with it. But it was the setback it posed that rattled him, because it meant finding Estella was going to be that much harder.
The sudden sound of an electronic chime rang through the air, sharp and mechanical. Aries smirked instantly. That had to be Dennis. His smug little sponsor. With his injured eye clamped shut, Aries scanned the surroundings through the good one, half-expecting the parachute to be tangled in a treetop like last time.
But to his relief, it floated gently down, docking neatly right in front of him. He snatched it up and—of course—there was a note. 'Look at the bright side. Estella loves scars. - Dennis'
Aries huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Shut up," he muttered with a smirk. It was true, though. Estella had always liked imperfections, the kind that made a person look more dangerous. He rifled through the package and found what looked like a tiny bottle of eye drops—burn medicine, most likely.
With a sigh, he prepared for the sting. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and ripped off a strip, which left him looking half-cropped, his abs now fully on display. He didn't care.
Biting down hard on the torn fabric, he tilted his head back, gripped the dropper, and released two droplets into the wounded eye. The reaction was instant and brutal. It felt like acid had been poured directly into his socket, and if it were possible, a thin puff of smoke could've been seen rising from it.
Aries slammed his fist into the nearest tree in response to the agony, a feral scream escaping his lips. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" he roared, letting the pain simmer until it dulled just enough to wrap his eye with the torn fabric. The burn still lingered, but it was tolerable. He could function again. He could find her.
Then, a booming voice reverberated through the forest, echoing from every direction and freezing Aries mid-movement. "Attention all Tributes!" Templesmith. That familiar, pompous tone. Aries tensed, already dreading what fresh hell was about to be announced.
"The Gamemakers have instituted a rule change. From this point forward, if two Tributes from the same District are the last to survive, both will be declared victors of—"
"YOU COULD'VE APPLIED THAT STUPID RULE WHEN ELLA WAS AROUND! COULDN'T YOU?!" Aries bellowed up at the trees, at the sky, at the cameras watching him like vultures. His voice cracked with anger and desperation. And just like that, the announcement faded. The voice was gone. So was Aries's brief flicker of hope.
Meanwhile, from the other side of the arena, "The Gamemakers have instituted a rule change. From this point forward, if two Tributes from the same District are the last to survive, both will be declared victors of The Hunger Games! Good luck! May the odds be ever in your favor!"
Estella barely processed the announcement. Templesmith's voice faded like white noise in the background, unimportant. She was currently hunting down Thresh, Rue's partner. Any interest she had in winning the Games had begun to slip. A part of her knew she should be finding Aries instead, but she wasn't worried. He would find her—she knew that deep in her bones.
For now, she was focused on delivering the Mockingjay pendant Rue had left behind to Thresh. It was her form of closure for the girl. Estella moved with quiet calculation, tracking water sources—knowing they'd be the most likely campgrounds for tributes—and keeping watch for blood trails or anything that seemed off.
Suddenly, she froze. A footprint in the mud caught her eye. Larger than hers. Broader. She crouched down, comparing the impression to her boot, then smirked with confidence. That footprint could only belong to one person: Thresh.
She turned her head slowly, scanning the woods for any clue of his presence. But just as she honed in, the sound of familiar voices disrupted her focus. Clover and Cato—too close for comfort. "Oh fuck," she muttered, immediately scaling the nearest tree. She ascended quickly and silently, positioning herself high enough to remain hidden but low enough to drop or swing if needed. Her eyes locked on the pair below. Cato stomped ahead, ranting as always, while Clover appeared more alert, occasionally glancing around.
Her heart raced as she held her breath, watching the pair carefully. The longer she stayed, the more anxious she grew—not for herself, but for Aries. If the Careers were still moving in groups, it made her wonder what kind of condition he was in now.
Psst!
Her head snapped to the side at the sound. Someone was calling her, but Clover and Cato hadn't heard it. It was a low whisper—too deliberate for it to be a coincidence. She scanned again and found him: Thresh, hidden in the brush. He looked worse for wear, face contorted in pain, and clearly favoring one side. He motioned for her again, this time more urgently, afraid his whisper hadn't reached her the first time.
Something about it struck her. Rue had done the same thing—called out from hiding, cautiously, with a whisper that felt both fragile and determined. The familiarity hit her harder than expected, squeezing at her chest.
Drawing a deep breath, Estella twisted her body downward, dangling upside down from the branch like a trained acrobat. Her eyes zeroed in on a thicker branch below. She reached for her whip and launched it, coiling it around the sturdier limb, then let herself swing forward.
Her landing wasn't silent. Her feet scraped bark, sending flakes scattering, and she landed directly behind Clover and Cato. She didn't move—frozen, calculating. Clover was already glancing around, sensing something, while Cato remained oblivious, ranting like a child, "Those stupid District 5 kids! Thinking they're all high and mighty! When I get my hands on Aries, he'll be as good as dead meat!"
Estella rolled her eyes. The more she heard them speak, the more she realized how hollow the Careers truly were. All bark, no bite. Spoiled by sponsors and trained young, but untested by true desperation. "Pathetic," she muttered under her breath.
Her plan was unraveling quickly. With the two of them standing still, blocking her path to Thresh, it was going to be hell to sneak past unnoticed. And there was no way she was balancing on one branch until they finally decided to move. This wasn't as easy as it looked in the training simulations. It was real. It was chaos. And Estella was running out of time.
