chapter 15

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━━・❪ 🌸 ❫ ・━━

"If she was mad at me for not taking over the watch shift, she could've just woken me up," Daphne grumbled to herself as she yanked her boots back on. Her clothes had thankfully dried overnight, though there was a gash in the sleeve where the District Eight girl's shortsword had slashed her.

"She was the one who told me to sleep! Besides, who just leaves while on watch anyways? It's called 'watch' for a reason-"

Soft footsteps echoed from outside the room, accompanied by the creak of old wood underfoot. Daphne froze, drawing a knife from the belt restrapped around her waist, suddenly alive and alert. The footsteps grew closer, light and at a relaxed pace. Daphne tightened her grip on the knife, feet shifting into a ready stance. Her muscles ached, her throat was sore, and she was not in the mood for another battle. Not to mention the cut on her left arm stung whenever she shifted it.

A figure appeared in the doorway, and she sent the knife flying with all the fire in her veins.

Azalea let out a squeak of surprise, jumping backwards. She stared at the blade embedded in the wooden doorframe, her golden eyes wide.

"Oh my goodness," Daphne breathed, letting her shoulders relax. "It's just you."

Azalea looked incredulously from Daphne to the blade, the blade to Daphne. "You threw a knife at me."

"You were the one who vanished when I woke up this morning," Daphne scoffed, stalking over and yanking her knife from the wood. "Excuse me if I thought there was an intruder, since there was nobody around to warn me if there was."

"You were sleeping so soundly, I thought I'd get my face ripped off if I woke you."

Daphne frowned. "Did you at least sleep?"

Azalea shrugged, then slid past Daphne into the room. She opened her backpack and pulled out two plastic packets. She tossed one to Daphne, which Daphne caught and examined curiously. Inside were crackers, dry and crumbly, but crackers nonetheless.

"Sponsor?" Daphne inquired, her stomach lurching in response to the aspect of food.

"There's an old convenience store a couple blocks that way," Azalea said, pointing in a direction in which Daphne hadn't yet explored. "I found these crackers. They're probably stale beyond taste, but good stomach-fillers if you're famished."

"How is it that when I'm looking for food, I get a squirrel and have to risk my neck cooking it but when you're looking for food, you find it so conveniently?" Daphne grumbled, handing the crackers back to Azalea to keep in the backpack. Daphne was hungry, but not so hungry that she would consume some of their only snacks for the sake of it. It was better to save these, just in case.

Azalea snorted, and her golden eyes trailed to the side. "Maybe I'm just better."

Daphne shot her a side glance, shoving the knife back into her belt. "Say that one more time and I won't miss."

Their eyes locked for several heartbeats, then to Daphne's surprise, Azalea broke out a chuckle. Daphne found her own face muscles twitching in a smile, and then she was laughing too. Suddenly, they were back to fifteen year olds, sharing a moment of humor before the year that everything had gone to hell.

"He'd rather be murdered in the Games than come home to you."

The words echoed in the back of Daphne's head, and the brief amusement wiped from her face. She'd never forgotten those words that'd sprung from Azalea's mouth and wounded her in ways that no weapon could ever.

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐒 | hunger games ✓Where stories live. Discover now