𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝑶𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒓

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍.

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝, 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞.

Rosie sat in her hiding spot, observing the Careers who seemed far too relaxed for their situation.

She'd spent all of the morning and most of the afternoon twirling her knife through her right hand—thankfully the finger cut open by the carelessly placed throwing knives was her left, her non-dominant hand.

From where she was Rosie could see smoke billowing past the trees, it wasn't massive plumes that indicated a forest fire, it was just a little that made it past the canopy. This could be an opportunity, the fire wasn't deep into the forest so the Careers hunting down whoever lit it was something plausible. It didn't take five minutes after one of the girls—Wren or the District 10 girl, Rosie never learned her name—pointed it out for Jett and then one of the girls ran with him into the forest, in the opposite direction of Rosie.

Rosie waited for a few minutes, making sure they'd submerged themselves in the first before making her move. She threw her backpack on and set out for the Cornucopia. Her set of knives stolen from Jenny was tucked in her pocket, and the one she'd got at the bloodbath was in her hand.

With every step closer to her destination Rosie's heartbeat grew ever louder in her ears, beating so violently it ached. Her chest took shaky breaths as she got closer to the clearing, she could finally make out the girl who'd been left to protect the Cornucopia.

It was Wren. The girl who'd hated her from the second she laid eyes on her, the girl who'd threatened to cut her "stupid, pretty face" off.

Wren was of almost equal skill as Jett—him with an eight, her with a nine—the other girl in the pack only slightly lower than them, so she guessed it made sense to leave her behind. Rosie approached from behind, walking so she was directly behind the structure. Once she was visible she ran, ensuring she was quick on her feet and making sure she didn't trip as that would've been a death sentence.

The nerves she had going through her were only calmed by the need to fulfil the promise she made to the people she loved. She needed to be clear-headed to survive, mind-numbing anxiety wouldn't cut it. She no longer had Toby covering her back, and even when he was there they hadn't done anything like this. They never sought people out, they just defended themselves. Rosie punched the girl for the bag because she needed it. Toby killed Ky because it was Ky or him. Rosie killed Trax because it was either Trax or them both. But this was—of course—still somewhat under the umbrella of self-defence, and eventually she'd need to go against the Careers and she needed to cut down the numbers, picking them off individually.

When Rosie pressed her back against the metal that had baked in the sun, she didn't register the burn of her skin, something that would usually make her yelp she didn't feel, the adrenaline blocked things that didn't immediately threaten her.

Slowly, she slid along the side of the Cornucopia, inch by inch, getting closer and closer, toward Wren who hadn't even noticed she was there. Perhaps that was better? That she didn't know her demise was coming, she didn't have the opportunity to be scared or, God forbid, beg for her life. It was just lights out, game over. Then her life would fade into the background and she'd just be another no-name, fallen Tribute. Something Rosie refused to let herself become.

Rosie's foot snapped a twig and Wren whipped around. With her weapon in hand, and already positioned for attack, Rosie had the upper hand and didn't give Wren a second to gather herself, the knife flew and hit the girl in the chest.

"No!" She cried, her hands clutching the handle of the weapon, ripping it out her chest. "You fucking bitch!" She quickly became angry as blood came out of the gaping hole in her chest like a tap that went haywire. Wren didn't have long left on this Earth, but she clearly planned on taking Rosie and her "stupid, pretty face" with her. The knife coated in Wren's blood flew and Rosie's face, she dodged it, feeling the top of her ear sting, but she quickly realised it was nothing that posed a threat to her life. With her final actions being futile, Wren's knees hit the soft grass. Her eyes now held terror as she clutched her chest.