The Sound of Falling Snow | A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 14

My legs move of their own accord, unthinking and without a clear direction. In only a few moments, I'm tearing through the area, searching, hunting, for the source of the agonized, blood-chilling noise. It's not a sound you'd easily forget. A call for someone who may be your last hope.

Alana. I have to get to her. I have to help her. I have to save her.

A rational part of me is convinced that it's not real, that it's just something to scare me. A cruel trick that they've used on others that had fought in the arena before. That it's just something that's meant to hurt me. And it has. The guilt threatens to overwhelm me. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me.

The argument that is really correct has no effect on me. Even though I've seen this before in other Games, even though she's dead and it's impossible that she could be here in the arena, I'm running blindly toward the shrill call for help, without any consideration of the other dangers that may lie in my path.

It's funny; I always thought when I saw the attacks on the tributes, the jabberjays were the least of the problems. They didn't, couldn't, wouldn't harm you, right? I was so, so wrong. I could not have been further from the truth. Actually, no, it's not funny at all.

The world around me is a blur as I race through, hurtling over stumps and branches and roots in my way. I tell myself to stop running, that it'll never do anything to help her. But I can't, I can't, I can't. I can't leave her. Not after the last time that we left each other's side, I never saw her again.

"She's dead," I say aloud, trying to make myself believe it. "She's dead and she's never coming back." My voice breaks at the end, the tears streaming down my cheeks and dripping onto my chin without my permission.

It's impossible to ignore. It's growing louder and louder with every footstep I take, the tortured shrieks making my breath catch with the shame and fear. I dig my fingernails sharply into my palm, balling my fists tightly. I bite my lip, trying to stop myself from crying out to her.

There's no place further to run. She has to be here. I look frantically around for her, trying to prove to myself that she's still alive, even when I know in my heart that it's not true. That's when they stop. They've killed her. They killed her and she's gone because of me.

I finally begin to take in this possibility, and I shatter inside. But still, somehow it's worse being unsure than the opposite.

And just when I thought it couldn't get any more awful, they do. Victoria.

Is it real? Or are they just trying to hurt me? There is no way to tell. The screams increase in volume, deafening in the insanity, and I shut my hands over my ears to block out the excruciating sounds. The one thing that I can count on is that I shouldn't have left her. What if she's dead? What if she's dead and it's all my fault? Why did I ever leave her?

"Victoria!" I yell, not even caring if it brings more dangerous opponents to me. "Victoria!"

I hear the crunching and rustling of leaves as they crumble beneath the boots. Someone is coming. If I wasn't worried about the others earlier when I called for her, I am now. Terrified, I back up against one of the trees, hoping that it at least gives me some shelter from anyone who may come from behind, despite the fact that it makes it harder to escape.

"Clio?" the voice comes. Thank goodness. I throw my arms around her, so, so relieved that she's okay. So glad that we're both still alive.

Trembling and shaking, I wipe away the tears that run down my face to stop them from falling to her shoulder.

"It's alright," she whispers. I nod back. We're okay. And we're still together.

—

Several more hours of walking. That's how long it takes to get back to the Cornucopia, and by then we're more fatigued than ever before. The sight of it brings the scattered memories back in full force, and I shudder. Beside me, Victoria draws in a sharp breath, grasping my hand tighter. Of course. This is probably harder for her than anyone. It was the place where she truly showed how much she would do to survive these Games.

It's not that I think I'm any better, it's just that I don't think I would ever be able to kill anyone. I'd never be able to let it go. I don't think anyone can. It's not something you can ever forgive yourself for. I've seen it in some of the past victors' eyes. The deadness. The hopelessness. The emptiness. As if the life had gone from them, the fire extinguished.

"Where should we set up camp?" Victoria asks. I wonder if it was as much of a subject change as it was a genuine question.

I survey our surroundings quickly before answering.

"There," I reply, nodding to an area slightly sheltered from view, but that isn't too far away from the stream. "But let's get water first."

Ever since we've been set in the arena, that's been one of our first priorities. Turns out it's one of the hardest, too, though.

We fill up our two water bottles with the water, hoping it's clean and safe to drink, but just as I raise it to my lips I catch sight of something. The tiny black specks floating in the liquid. No, not specks. Ants.

A warning bell goes off in me internally, and my body reacts before I even am entirely aware of what I'm doing. I smack the water bottle from Victoria's hands, flinging it far enough away to get her attention.

"Don't drink the water," I tell her urgently.

"What was that for?" she asks, aghast.

"It's not safe."

"How do you...?" Her question trails off as I hold up my flask. A flicker of understanding registers on her face.

"They're dead."