𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 - 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

𝑿𝑽. 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈'𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔

Everything was dark. Quiet except for the voices of her mother and father.

"I can't do this anymore."

"Can't do what?"

"All this. I can't deal with these insufferable little brats anymore."

"They're children, Malik. They're not even old enough for the reaping yet."

"Maybe not, but they will be. And I'm not going to stick around for that."

"So, what, you're gonna leave your family because you're a coward!?"

"I'm have to get away from this, Elira! I can't stay here!"

"Then go!"

Malik harshly strikes her mother across the face.

"Elira, I'm-"

"Get out."

"Darling-"

"I said get out! Get out of my goddamn house!"

Malik doesn't say or do anything, except to leave and slam the door behind him with a resounding slam as the room goes black.

Nova's eyes snap open. It had only been a dream. Her eyes spin wildly, looking for any signs of danger. Her eyes land on a very familiar face.

"Nico?"

He turns his head, and a weak grin of relief appears on his blood-ridden and dirty face. 

"Sick, you're awake. Was starting to think you might be a goner for a minute there. And I told you I'd find you."

She sits up, only to find she's been strapped down to a tree branch with some sort of cable.

"Uh, Nico? Why am I in a fucking tree?"

"Wasn't safe down there. The tracker jackers got you good and all the commotion you made drew the attention of a couple other tributes. So, I brought you up here."

"You went through all that effort?"

"It's what we do, isn't it? I wasn't gonna let you die. And I know you'd do the same for me."

"You are such an idiot."

"Yeah, but you love me."

Nova snorts quietly, shaking her head. It's always nice to have someone in your corner, especially right now.

"Yeah, yeah. Wait, how long have we been up here?"

"I don't know, maybe two days? I haven't really been keeping track. By the way, I only changed those leaves once, but you can probably take them off now."

She looks down, and true to his word, there are a few leaves plastered to her skin where she was stung. She peels them off to find the wounds mostly healed.

"Who died while I was out?"

"Uh... the girl from twelve and the girl from eight. The other day it was the tributes from district two. And the girl from five."

"So... Angora and Wisteria, Cyril, Prima, and Gaelia."

"I think so."

"What happened to them?"

"I snapped eight's neck when she was trying to finish you off after the tracker jackers. I don't know what happened to the other ones."

"That was me."

"You killed all of them?"

"Well, not Wisteria. But the other ones, yeah."

"Are you telling me you're the one who shoved Cyril off a literal mountain?"

"Yeah. I smashed the Prima's face in with my boot, and I stabbed Gaelia. But Cyril and Prima followed me up to my hiding place in the mountains. And the other one ambushed me while I was looking for another spot to hole up in."

"Damn, girl. But then again, it's kill or be killed out here."

"It is."

"How many have you killed, Nova?"

"Five."

"Not bad. Considering we're in the hunger games, of course."

"What about you?"

"Three."

A small nod. 

"So uh... what happened to your..."

Nico gestures to the dried blood under her nose, and the bruising on it.

"It's nothing. Just had a run in with Cyril."

"I can tell."

"Very funny. So, how exactly did you end up finding me?"

"I was hunting for food. I heard your screams. I followed the sound."

Nova is silent. He had been scavenging for supplies but dropped everything when he hear her voice crying out. It was a stupid move on his part, honestly. But she couldn't say she would've done any different.

In the Capitol, the sponsors fawn over the two. It's quite rare for tributes from the same district to continue looking out for one another once the games begin. Usually, they tend to kill each other at the first opportunity.

But not these two, no. These two are strange. The boy had focused on getting her to safety, while she was out of her head on tracker jackers. He could've taken that opportunity to finish her off. But he didn't. In fact, he had snapped the neck of the girl from district eight for trying to do just that.

President Snow despised that. The games were about fighting to the death, bringing honor and pride to your district by being a lone victor. It wasn't about sticking together or protecting each other. You were supposed to be out for blood. You were supposed to kill or be killed. Not cherish age old friendships.

But he reveled in the fact that one or both of them would die. They would have to. He thrived in finding that environment of bloodshed and brutality. Because he was hungry, oh, so very starving for power. It had been decreed that the hunger games would commence annually, and so it shall remain a tradition.

Finnick felt a melancholy twinge in his chest. He knew they were friends. But he knew it would end in tragedy. He knew it would only hurt more when one or the other died, maybe both. They knew that, too. But they continued to look out for each other. Because that was the kind of people they were.

It was a honorable trait, of course. But kindness could only get you so far in a place like this. Everybody knew that. Not that it stopped them from showing an ounce of humanity. Sometimes it was rare to find someone with even a shred of compassion. 

He supposed everyone had started off kind, or so he hoped. But with the way the world was, it was nearly impossible to refrain from becoming hardened and cold. But it wasn't just the games that made you like that.

Sure, it certainly didn't help you become gentle. But it was also shaped by your upbringing, starving in the districts while the Capitol lived in luxury. Begging for mere morsels of a scrap of bread while they were throwing up food just to stuff more in.

The Capitol was not kind, generous, or forgiving. They were cruel, and inhumane. 

Not that he'd ever admit to thinking that out loud. He'd certainly be punished.