Two Evils ◦ Finnick Odair

otto; the bloody allies

TWO EVILS.

08. OTTO: THE BLOODY ALLIES

❝It's incredible isn't it? All those colors. Don't worry about anything else. We're here with you.❞

The stinging her hand was unlike any pain she had ever felt before, and she had been stabbed during her last Games. It was like the flesh was burning off of her hand, and the sizzle of the poison on her hand permeated the air. The insistent pain made her hand throb, especially when Katniss grabbed it tightly, trying to drag the older girl away.

"Run! Run. The fog is poisoned." She screamed, the pain evident in her voice as she followed Katniss down the steep slope of the hill. The others around them had woken up from her scream, the sleep still affecting in their movements. How ever tired Grier had been before the fog, she certainly didn't feel it now. The pain was invigorating like drinking twelve energy drinks. But pain was still pain and she knew it wouldn't go away any time soon.

As they ran down the hill, Grier took on look at her hand before immediately looking back up. It was sick looking, with little boils of poison surrounding her hand. It was a milky grey, so unnatural to the tan skin tone she usually held. A look of disgust made its way onto her face as they struggled to get away from the fog.

The four of them were running, screams of pain becoming a constant thing every time a person got hit. The lush green forest seemed like a trap, waiting to catch unsuspecting tributes. The beauty it once held had faded away leaving the rough insides that was the Games. Nothing good can last, especially in the Games. That thought was coursing through Grier's mind as she ran, blood pumping in her ears, and breath heavy.

The fog licked at their legs, wanting to taste the exposed flesh that hadn't already been burned by the looming mist. As she ran, Grier lagged behind just in case, accidentally brushing her entire shoulder against the milky grey. Pain erupted throughout her entire arm and a gasp left her lips as she ran.

Eventually, no one was silent, each running with their own wounds and boils. They all seemed to be managing just fine, which made Grier relieved. She wouldn't have to die for anyone just yet, and that was always a good thing. But she spoke too soon. The fog was going to get one of them enough to incapacitate them so they'd be unable to move.

What a fate Grier wouldn't wish on anyone - except the Careers. Unfortunately, it seemed as thought they weren't running fast enough because the next thing she knew, Peeta had stumbled, the acid fog burning his skin.

The cry of pain that erupted from his mouth was pitiful, but Grier stopped and turned back to help Katniss pick him up. The fog was even closer, just a foot away, coming closer and closer no matter how far they ran. She struggled to lift his limp body off of the ground, the pain from her own wounds too agonizing to lift him on his own.

"Peeta. I can't carry him." Katniss yelled frantically, trying to grab onto Peeta to pull him up. She was too weak, to wounded to do anything and Grier let herself give Finnick a small glance. He met her eyes and nodded. He would be the one who had to help.

Grier sucked in a deep breath, watching with fearful eyes as the fog that just might cause their terrible demise was almost upon them, ready to inflict pain to anyone who dared touch it. "I can't carry him either. My whole arm feels like it's burning off."

"Peeta please. We have to go." Katniss struggled to lift him, a pitiful sound leaving her throat.

"Go to Peeta. I'll be fine." Grier nodded, wincing as she held her shoulder. The burns licked her entire arm setting it aflame. She didn't even want to look down in fear of what she would see instead.