Victor's Crown: A Hunger Games Story

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 [𝟮𝟰]

When Finnick wakes again, daylight spills between the leaves and pools on the ground in warm bright patches. The melodic cacophony of the rainforest, which had become so commonplace Finnick's brain filtered it out, seems unusually piercing to his sensitive ears. Then his fingers twitch against the shaft of his trident and awareness starts trickling in, drop by miserable drop. He's so disoriented by hunger and thirst it takes him a long moment to make sense of the foreign object sitting in front of his face. When he finally comprehends what the object is, he props himself up and takes it in shaking, blood-encrusted hands. It's a parachute. Finnick guesses the rectangular vessel hidden under it could hold about a liter of liquid, if not more. Mags hasn't forsaken him after all.

Resting inside the container is Finnick's absolution and his deliverance: Another pot of ointment, a bottle of water purifying tablets, a tin of green cookies shaped like fish. The cookies were undoubtedly sponsored by District 4, a gift indicating their continued support and encouragement. All Finnick can see is Caspia, her boots kicked up on the table, casting Finnick her brazen, indolent smile.

What takes priority? It takes all of Finnick's concentration to rally the thoughts suspended in the sludgy murk of his brain. There's definitely something wrong with his lung; every time he inhales, sharp pain explodes in his right side, making him cough and wheeze and hunch over the wound. He wants to eat. He needs to eat. But more than food, he needs water.

The river. He needs to get to the river.

Fortunately, Finnick didn't make it very far after he crawled out of the water. He makes another uplifting observation as he hobbles along, using his trident and tree trunks for support: All of the revolting oil has vanished, evaporated or drained from the arena like it had never existed. Finnick wonders if the strange fog had something to do with the oil's disappearance, if it had somehow sopped up the liquid or made it easier for the ground to absorb. At some point, he comes across the velvety leaves he used as a bandage and picks more of them, tucking them into the parachute container next to his gifts. Driven by thirst and bolstered by his extra-arena assistance, Finnick limps down to the bank and settles down next to the water, his precious trident tucked half under one of his legs.

First, he uses one of his precious purifying tablets to sanitize water he scoops up in the parachuted receptacle. The cookies, ointment, and tablets he sets on the ground next to him. While the tablet dissolves, he removes his vest and shirt and unties the vine from around his waist. Then he braces himself and peels away the makeshift bandage.

He needs to clean the wound in a bad way. Bellona's arrow has created a jagged slit in his side between his shoulder and his hip, surrounded by an impressive network of colorful bruises. He's lucky Bellona had been in such bad shape when she shot him, or the arrow might have actually pierced his lung instead of glancing off his ribs. The bleeding has finally stopped, but his stomach is crusted with dried blood and dirt, a perfect breeding ground for infection. The puncture wound itself is swollen and emanates heat, which means it's already been contaminated by some sort of insidious microbe. What a disappointment he would be: Receiving a small fortune in sponsored gifts only to keel over of sepsis a couple of days later.

Though Finnick steels himself for a highly unpleasant experience, he is entirely unprepared for the degree of exquisite agony even the smallest splash of water elicits from the wound. Teeth gritted, eyes streaming, he forces himself with shaking hands to scrub the dried blood, dirt, and oil from his torso until nothing is left except the wound itself. He cleans from the inside out, from top to bottom, just how his first aid instructor taught him at the academy. By the time he runs out of clean water, he's moved far enough from the injury to use plain river water. The wound starts bleeding again thanks to Finnick's probing, so he quickly dabs on an ample amount of the new ointment and wraps the leaves he'd gathered around it. He uses the same vine from before to tie the leaves in place. After he's done, he has to take a moment to catch his breath.