When The Canary Sings

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First Person Point of View: Becca Blue: 

* 

One moment, I'm choking on my own poison and struggling to wash it off my face, and the next, the Cornucopia island starts to spin, and the force throws me into the wall. Like what happened in the wave, my head slams into the wall, leaving me dizzy and unable to move.

I wrap my fingers weakly around a rack of weapons, my vision is tunneling and I can feel myself slipping towards the water and I can't do anything to stop it. The only thing I can do is pray that someone grabs me. If I fall into the water now, I will certainly drown.

With absolutely no warning, we slam to a stop, and I tumble forwards. Vision still blanking and body limp. Dying? Yes. I lay, staring up at the metal-golden cornucopia ceiling. Is it even a ceiling? A roof? Those are the same thing.

I can hear commotion around me as I struggle to catch my breath. I try to blink away the black spots in my vision, and calm my shaking legs. My shaking body, but nothing will stop. My breathing won't calm, my vision won't go back to normal.

"Let's get off this stinking island." Johanna announces. I hear shuffling around me, like they're leaving me behind.

"Wait for me, I'm coming." I mumble, pushing myself to my feet and immediately feeling a wave of dizziness come over me accompanied by a wonderful feeling of nausea. Great, now I can choke on my own puke and drown in front of Panem.

I take a few shaky steps to grab my bottle of poison, and try to catch up with the others. Peeta ends up throwing me over his shoulders. Thank God for him, he's the only one that noticed I was lagging behind.

We stop on the beach, and just like that, everyone is arguing again. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great.

"Water." I say, "we need water." Now that I've lost my bag, I have no more bottles of anything besides the one hooked to my belt. That one's full of poison, the only way I'll be drinking that deathtrap is if the only other alternative is having sex with President Snow.

"I'll tap a tree." Peeta says.

"No. It's my turn." Finnick says.

"Katniss can do that." Johanna says, "we need you to make another map. The other washed away." Johanna yanks a leaf off a tree and shoves it towards him.

I follow Katniss and Finnick into the jungle, quietly humming to myself to keep myself awake. Katniss and Finnick are both lost in thought, I watch my feet as they pitter patter along the jungle floor. My mind wanders back to Will at home. I hope everything's okay. Him and Sae are safe. Hopefully he's not watching, I don't want him to watch me die. Or worse, me suffer.

I've probably caused him so much heartache this past day. From being hunted, to the birds, to passing out, to the wave, to the career attack, to the spinning island, to the concussion I probably have.

I honestly don't even remember why I'm in the jungle. Hungry? No. I think I was thirsty, no, I am thirsty. My mouth is dry and my throat feels like a whole rose bush was shoved down it. Why am I risking it like this? No one knows what time it is since the island was spun around, for all I know, the hour of the wedge could just be beginning. What would come for me this time? The infamous rainbow snakes? Deadly ghosts of past tributes? Rats that are immune to my poison? The list goes on and on.

"Katniss, got that spile?" Finnick asks, snapping us both from our trances. Katniss hands it over, and just as he begins tapping it into the tree, a shriek rings through the arena. Not a tribute, a child. Primrose.

Katniss begins crashing through the jungle, up the incline, tearing through branches and vines. Finnick and pause for a second before darting after her.