Timber

Chapter Forty: Out Of the Frying Pan

Ethan knelt, preparing a blue feathered arrow amidst the rustling stalks, the arid wind made the maize tilt and bend. Hazel analyzed the field as she rummaged through her pockets. The corn was golden, dehydrated with hints of green. Fingers crossed it is dry enough to burn. As if on cue the warm wind picked up with her thoughts.  Hazel's subdued panic prodded at her mind while she retrieved the last remnants of unused fabric from Festus and added cobalt blooms to the makeshift bundle. Starting the fire was potentially more than a distraction. A blaze could be deadly for whatever tributes were still in the corn, let alone a fire poisoned with Sapphire's Breath. But, she was not going to wait around for Caleb to find her or worse, find Silus. On the other hand, Hazel refused to delude herself into thinking she could best Caleb in physical combat. Hell, she couldn't keep a bottle of pills from him in a kitchen; and that was when he wasn't armed with God knows what kind of weaponry. It is necessary, unavoidable. What other choice was there?

"You'll need kindling of some kind," Ethan's voice broke her concentration, his gaze sweeping their immediate surroundings. The group was tensely silent, hidden within the rows of corn. In the distance, voices rose in loud, indistinct bursts—likely, they had discovered Eve.

Nodding in response to Ethan's suggestion, Hazel weighed their scant options. She reached into her shirt pocket, extracting the card from Snow. As her fingers traced its smooth surface, she made her decision. In a deliberate movement, she split the card in two, pocketing the bottom half and started to shred the top part. "The odds are in your favor," she mused silently. There was bitter irony in dismantling Snow's words of reassurance, as those very odds were currently hunting her. 

"What was that?" Ethan inquired, nodding to what was left of Snow's message, little papery scraps in her palm.

She could feel Silus's gaze. His eyes lingered on the card for a moment longer before they settled on her. She added the torn pieces to the pouch with the Sapphire's Breath, sealing the fabric ends with shaking hands.

She shrugged nonchalantly, fabricating a response, "Just one of Festus's love notes." Her smirk was fleeting as she added, "If he wasn't thrilled with what I did to his last gifts, he's definitely not going to appreciate this."

Silus maintained his silent observation, his expression unreadable. His silence spoke volumes; as if he knew the card wasn't from Festus. The unspoken words between them hung heavy in the air, a conversation for later—if they survived.

Hazel signaled for Ethan to stand, and they both rose as quietly as possible. In the distance, voices grew louder, closer even. Despite the dry warmth of the breeze on her face, she shivered as if it were the dead of winter, sweat beading on her back and palms.  Hazel struggled to tie the pouch to the arrow's tip, her hands trembling so violently she feared she might accidentally cut herself.

"Steady," Ethan urged, his grey eyes meeting hers with an imploring intensity, beads of sweat trailing down his face from the ends of his hair.

Once the pouch was secure, Aaron silently retrieved the Capitol-engineered fire starter from his bag and placed it in her open palm. The fire piston, a marvel of survival technology, boasted a high-strength alloy rod and a flexible, heat-resistant polymer. A small, detachable compartment at its base housed the high-efficiency tinder—Capitol ingenuity, she scoffed to herself. Yet, here it was, a beacon of hope and destruction intertwined. Light and darkness all in one, just like Gaul had warned.

Ethan readied the arrow, pulling back on the bow with precision.

"You think this is a good idea?" Aaron asked, eyeing the pouch, running a hand through his hair before resting it on the sword at his waist.