SWAN UPON LEDA; hunger games

chapter 4

[act two; chapter four     -     threat or reminder?]

    It had all started the same. The voice through the speakers, the ticking clock, the sound of every beat of her heart in her ears. She could feel the subtle shake of her hands, working to not clench them together, to dig into her skin and rip herself free from the nightmare that lay beautiful and destructive before her. Surrounded by water, she felt as though she might throw up. As if it were some cruel joke. Water, which had always been her sanctuary, now waited to swallow her hole and spit her corpse out at Snow's feet. She imagined that was where she would end up in the end. She had prepared herself for it, really. Death.

    She scanned the tributes, the victors, as they all stood in a circle, each on their own pedestal. Twenty-four people, all having shared the same nightmare, forced back into it again. This time, together.

    She couldn't see Finnick, and immediately figured that he was somewhere across from her. Perhaps, directly on the other side. She wouldn't be surprised if that was where he was, really. Then again, she had stopped being surprised by many things in the Capitol since she was fifteen years old.

    It was then, as the voice surrounded them all, that the ticking clock reached its final seconds. Soon, ten became five, and five became two, and suddenly, time was up.

    The moment the canon's boom echoed around them, Leda had dived into the depths of the water. She pushed off hard with her legs, arms poised perfectly over head, cutting through the water seamlessly, just as she had all her life. She and Finnick were guaranteed to dominate here, surrounded by water. They would not drown them. Not in water. Not in fear. Instead, the two would force them to choke on the water; the realization that they would not go down easily. She hoped to wipe that smirk from Snow's face, to make his heart stop.

    She reached the rocks first, at least from what she could see. She didn't hesitate as she pushed herself up from the water, arms braced on the slippery surface of the rocks. She ran. Pumping her legs as fast as she could, with steady footing, Leda ran. Ran for the cornucopia and the weapons that were laid out just for her.

    She grasped them quickly. The first thing she reached for was the belt of knives, slinging them over her shoulder, her hands automatically going for the roll of rope and fishing string next. But before she could grasp the spear leaning against a box, a hand grasped her hair and tugged. She let out a shriek of surprise, but wasted no time in reacting. Her leg swung out from behind her, crashing into the person's knee, satisfied by the sickening crunch of foot to bone. Almost instinctively, she reached for the fishing string, the roll having been clipped to the belt of knives, just as the small roll of rope had been.

    Kicking her legs over the now toppled person, a man she realized, she slung the fishing line around his neck and tugged back with all of her might. He was fighting her, trying to pull at it, to tug it away as it began to split his skin. But with a deep breath, Leda bore all of her weight back and only released air from her lungs when she felt blood on her hands, and the man stop fighting.