Pyromania | The 60th Hunger Games

FIFTEEN

We watched the three faces of the deceased light up the night sky and, when the anthem cut off and the arena fell into the familiar eerie silence of mourning as it did each night, Gemma ushered Mahi and Martial from the cornucopia and into the northern treeline.

   I watched them go, arms crossed and chewing at my nails. For the first time, each tribute was split from their district partner, and this realisation was dawning on the boys when I sat back down with them. We looked at each other silently, I studied them, weighed up my chances should an ambush happen whether they would help me or not. I could feel Trix's bone crushing hug, her pleas to stay with the pack. But would they stay with me?

Sly was challenging Wade to an arm wrestle, lying on his stomach and propping his arm up on his elbow with a cheeky grin on his face.

"No, thank you," Wade stated stiffly and stood to look out over the sandpit. I raise an eyebrow and watch Sly carefully. He shrugs and, for a moment, I wonder if Wade's attempts at distancing himself from us has been obvious to anyone else.

"Terra?" I look down to find Sly wiggling his fingers, still in position on the floor. Sighing, I move to mirror him and find a grip on his hand. "Try not to embarrass me, Two," he quips, clearly playing up for the cameras. And, I suppose, if Panem wants to see the charismatic playboy Sly, why not give them who they think I am. I allow a small smirk to climb onto my face, allowing my face to be stoic, unamused despite the sheer humour that comes from fooling the rich elite treating our deaths as entertainment.

Sly's hands are clammy and warm, unavoidable in this heat but it made finding a grip difficult.

I don't humour him with a response when he slams my hand against the concrete floor. I shake out my hand with a hiss and sit back against the wall. He pouts playfully and my glare is genuine this time. A few moments pass and Wade crosses the light provided by the moon before circling the cornucopia. When he's out of view, Sly shuffles across the floor to sit beside me.

"I don't trust him," he says quietly, watching the west entrance and expecting our ally to appear soon.

"We're not supposed to trust each other," I counter, nodding briefly when Wade glances our way before continuing his loop.

"I'd trust you to walk behind me,"

"You're sure that's a good idea?"

"You threatening me, Two?" He's smirking but I can see his walls building slowly, his eyes roaming my body as if searching for a weapon or an indication I'm a threat at the present moment.

"It's a warning. We're not friends."

A cannon interrupts him before he can respond and a scream lingers in the air. I make note of the number, staring blankly at the night sky and mouthing 'two' when the second goes off. We sit in bated silence, Wade lingering in the moonlight and listening intently when the third cannon fires.

"Three," Wade observes when a few more minutes pass but only silence remains. "Do you think-"

"They got lucky," Sly says with a growing smile.

"Or we need to rethink our position," I can't help but say, feeling my heartbeat in my ears and using the excuse of needing a drink to move out of Sly's immediate reach.

"You're such a pessimist," Wade says, shutting the cooler before I get the chance to. His eyes narrow on me and I hold his stare, unscrewing the cap.

"Or a realist. We could use that right now." Ignoring the two boys watching me closely, I take a drink and move towards the entry, blocking their direct sight with a stack of crates and situating myself nearer a weapons rack.