Timber

Chapter Fifty-Two: Predator or Prey

Hazel paused as she reached the curved end of the stone border. The cool bricks were rough against her back, and a shiver slithered up her neck, whether from the chill or the fear; she wasn't sure. The searing pain had dimmed to a smolder as she tightened her left-handed grip on a scrap of shirt. Warm blood was no longer dripping, but it wouldn't take much to restart.

Caleb's presence loomed like a shadow in the purple haze of the setting sun, a threat just out of sight.

In the distance, the Cornucopia's outline reflected the sky's violet and navy tones. The ensnared tributes swayed around it. The muted dark mass of the spider's body remained just as it was earlier in the day. She chewed on the inside of her cheek until she tasted iron.

Taking a deep, steadying breath of the evening air, she pushed off the wall and left the safety of her hiding spot. She crept away, each step increasing the distance between them, her heart pounding. She stole another glance in Caleb's direction. He had wandered several meters away, his back to her as he searched the upper branches. Now, go now. She broke out of the trees in a dead sprint. Caleb still hadn't noticed—at least, not yet.

She ran through the grassy center until a taut, silvery reflection appeared. Her pulse roared like a mighty dam in her ears. As she neared the snare, she drew the knife from her belt and sliced through it with a silent, swift motion. The line snapped, the bottom half pooling in the grass. She swiped at it again, severing it from the earth. Hazel pocketed the line and approached another, repeating the process. After dismantling several more, numerous feet of translucent webbing bulged from her pockets.

Please be enough.

She hastened to where her axe landed on the first day of the Games. The field was dark, and the deep emerald blades swayed in a gentle early-night breeze. The knife's handle was slick, and she gripped it harder. She scanned the dusky green ocean of the grass, but the darkness obscured any weapons hidden within its depths.

"There you are!" Hazel jerked as Caleb's voice vibrated around her. Not yet. Not yet.

Her eyes bulged as she looked over her shoulder. Caleb was galloping through the field, his midnight-colored irises glinting in the twilight. His sword flashed with every stride; it appeared even more menacing at night. The moon's light intensified to an unnatural brightness. Her stomach might as well have flipped over inside her abdomen.

Where is it, where is it?

Hazel bent, her fingers trembled, pushing and tugging at the field. She tore at the grass, tearing at the chunks of the sod in her desperation. It should be here. She knew she was gambling with her life by continuing to look for it much longer. Maybe someone else had snagged it. Just as she was about to abandon her search, a familiar steel shine winked at her from the earth. Thank Cedar. Hazel lunged toward it.

As her fingers closed around the handle, Caleb's sharp voice struck her like lightning, making her startle in its proximity.

"All out of tricks yet?" He called, and she didn't need to see him to feel his satisfied grin. He was closing in on her rapidly.

Hazel wheeled around, tucking the knife in her belt while her good hand held her axe, and sprinted toward the cornucopia, "Almost."

"More running?" he huffed across the field.

"If you want to give up, by all means," she yelled as she pumped her knees higher and swung her arms harder, practically throwing her body across the field.

Her entire nervous system felt like it was frozen and on fire at the same time. Her body begged her to rest, but her mind raced, warning bells alarming at the nearness of her death. Caleb's breathing and the pounding of his boots grew louder.