- F A L L E N -

16

Finnick shoveled his trident straight up from the man's chest, his eyes, now unwavering and alert, were focused on mine. He waved his head backwards slightly, as his hand grazed over the blood on his weapon; motioning for me to join him. "Don't trust 1 and 2" he advised Katniss as I walked to meet him. His stare was anxiously pacing like beats to a drum between her and the knives in my hand, "We'll take this side you hold them off, We'll go find Peeta".

I trailed hurriedly behind Finnick holding my bag of knives, and oddly enough, the fear I knew I should have had was toppled by my annoyance in the growing weight of my arm. Behind the cornucopia, Finnick and I were canvassing the arena for Peeta, situated under its tail in place like human mistletoe, and I wanted to feel his eyes on me again, when I saw a streak of blond hair being slammed into a metal pedestal from across the water. "Peeta", I whispered, tugging on Finnick's suit and pointing to the other end of the small sea.

Finnick's reaction was immediate, "stay here", he stated, running back towards Katniss. I saw Peeta resurface again, obviously struggling, his hands trying to push up the water as if it was solid, his opponent punching him to no end. I made a vow, I decided, and hurled my bag over my shoulder. I flinched in slight pain each step I ran, as the blades were making up and down scratches on my shoulder blades like deep paper cuts. A few moments later, I was at the edge of the jagged slab of rock adjacent to Peeta, adrenaline coursed through me, and I heard the fast-paced thrumping of Katniss and Finnick's footsteps racing towards me. I gathered my courage and slipped a knife out of the bag, with no plan, and Finnick calling my name, I jumped in.

I had forgotten how muggy the water looked from the bottom, and I could barely see their fight as I navigated my way to Peeta. I made out the paddling feet of his opponent from under the blue, a faint light shining on his lower legs from the surface, and pulled them under quickly, in hopes Peeta would catch his breath as the other man struggled, in hopes he'd swim far, far away. Instead, the man immediately flung his fists around underwater, and struck my face harsher than I thought was possible in this density. My face burned like red, hot oil, like the flame that slithers up and grows in the trail of gasoline. I tried to punch him back, but he was already going in for his second beating as I flailed, and I felt his fist in my gut as my head ricocheted off the metal pedestal where Peeta had been just a second ago. I was choking on water, above the sea, and could see a third strike coming my way when someone's hands wrapped around the man's neck and drove him under the water. I coughed out my last bucket of saltwater before I realized it was Peeta, and braced myself with a deep breath, tightening the grip on my knife to dive back under. In the rush of my deep breath, I could see the driving worry of Finnick as he freestyled in long, sharp motions towards us. But I stuck myself back under, and my eyes tingled in pain as the salt leeched into the open white. My vision was like the undistinguished mark of an expanding grey cloud over sky, I couldn't tell where I was supposed to be looking to make out a figure, when I saw someone bobbling on the surface of the water, limp and dead. The cannon went off, and I swam up again in terror.