- F A L L E N -

19

Peeta led our line from the front now, holding the group together with his steady walking pace (although he was quite short), and his pointed-tip machete that cut through each large, lush jungle leaf in our way. I was walking behind Katniss, watching the footprints I was making in the moist soil with each step when she stopped hesitantly. She was silent, and tired I figured, thinking I should let her take a moment of rest when I heard her yell in fear.

"Peeta no!" Reactive, but Peeta had already halfway swung his machete into the forcefield, the dome that kept all of us encircled. Blazing yellow, orange sparks jumped out from where Peeta's blade hit, while Peeta flew back at us violently, and we all fell back from the strong pushback of the dome. 

Katniss rushed over to him and took his closed-eyed, scratched up face in her hands, "He's not breathing, he's not breathing!" She panicked, her voice a scratchy, high tone I hadn't heard before. Still on the ground, I watched Finnick run over to Peeta and push Katniss out of the way, who pulled out her bow and grappled to put an arrow in place, blind to his intent, spinning her mind wild in a frenzy.  

"Stop! He's not killing him- he's trying to help." I called to her, my hand out steady and unwavering, pleading for her to back down. Katniss glanced sideways at me, taking in what I said, taking her first real breath since Peeta had hit the electromagnetic fence that staked over all our heads like a cage. Finnick was desperately fighting to save Peeta through CPR, with harsh sighs and intermittent repetitions of "Come on Peeta" as he pumped on his chest. And from the way he said it, I knew he meant it. Katniss had crawled up over to Peeta at this point, sobbing by him, begging for him to wake up, and I felt useless standing there watching from above, with my hand tightly on my bag of knives, protecting the dying. 

But Peeta woke up, with a gasp for air as if he'd been starved from it. Katniss's lips quivered as she brushed the hair on his head with one hand and held herself with the other, speaking to him in worry and relief, a thankful Hallelujah radiating from the scene they became together. Finnick had gotten out of the way, and he stood by me now, each of us in silent dread for what we knew would happen to us eventually. Like Katniss, like Peeta, but nobody was going to save us. I wanted to be near him so badly I'd forgotten I was mad, and where we were, and went so close to him I could press my head to his chest easily. Then I remembered again- and didn't. Peeta was now shakily standing up, Katniss by him, heavy with worry and hands reaching out for him in case he fell. I felt blighted by my slight jealousy, jealous they could act out their desires in brightest sunlight, yet Finnick and I had this invisible wall between us. Hiding ourselves for the dark. They hugged tightly, Katniss shaking more than Peeta, and Finnick looked once over at me, slowly and for a long time, remembering his remarks on the artifice of their relationship and I almost wanted to smile. I was right, he was wrong. Ha! God I was childish.