The 53rd Hunger Games- Two Words

21. To The Death

A figure steps out of the trees.

The boy from Five.

Gladius’s ally.

He wields a sword, a long, thin blade. I notice now that he’s at least a head taller than I am. He’s build similarly to Gladius. This makes him a challenging opponent. But I remember that if I want to go home, I need to be the last survivor. That requires the death of all the other competitors.

If the boy from Five is here, Gladius can’t be far behind. Everyone in the arena seems to have an ally, someone to watch their back.

As the boy from Five walks towards me, I step backwards. His sword has a much longer reach than my axe, but he’s a lot bigger. I’m light on my feet; perhaps if I can throw in enough evasive moves I will be able to best him.

I don’t see anyone else drifting through the tree line. Where is Gladius? I expected him to be right behind the boy from Five. I she going to come up behind me in combat? Not seeing him is unnerving...he could be anywhere.

The boy is only a few paces away from me. He raises his weapon, catching the light. He’s about to strike the first blow, but then something stops him.

A cannon.

I don’t know who it is. It could be anyone. The noise makes me flinch. Another death means I’m closer to home, but it still makes me feel ill. It could be Gladius, Arabella, Marina. It could be one of my fierce adversaries.

Could it be Hadrian?

The boy from Five brings his sword down. It isn’t a quick, elegant movement like the girl from One with her knives. It’s crude; this boy is no Career.

I swing at his side. For a moment I think that the blade will sink into his side, that I will kill him. He only just manages to deflect the blow off his sword. He twists his blade around mine, locking us together. I see his fierce expression, the determination that marrs his face. His boy has a life. Whoever’s cannon that was, they had a life. They had family, a job.

The arena is where lives end. Victors are scared. Others are dead. No one ever really wins.

I step back, and aim another swing. The boy from Five aims one at the same time, to the left of me. I step aside, sure he’ll miss me.

He doesn’t.

There is a searing pain in my arm, like I’ve burnt myself. I look, and see blood dribbling down my arm. The crimson droplets are all too real.

I look at my arm, stunned. This is the first injury I’ve attained through combat. I have plenty f cuts and bruises from running through the underbrush. Blood darkens my unitard, only some of it my own. The girl from One, had she not become overconfident, would have killed me. Spilled my blood, watched it run downhill. I thought I had become aware of the Games, that they had become real. Only now I realise, it hasn’t comprehendible, my fate, until this moment. It hasn’t become clear how very vulnerable I am, how very easy it would be to kill me, until now.

Until I see a drop of my crimson regret hit hard packed dirt.

Something stirs inside of me. I’ve always felt cool, calm, but at the same time a sense of hopelessness. I’ve tried to keep my head, but have felt oddly detached from real life. Like it was too impossible, too horrible, too without chance to be tangible.

Now that I’m fighting for my life, it is different. Something animal has come to life; the need to survive. I’ll do anything to live.

Anything.

The boy doesn’t give me long to register my shock. He seems a little surprised he managed to land a blow, but he keeps fighting. His sword slashes, connecting with my axe. The clash of metal rigs out.