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Greyson was falling in and out of sleep. She was succumbing to the drowsiness that hung over her head like a raincloud, and she just wanted it to go away. Her body ached with exhaustion and she could tell Katniss was too, falling asleep. Somehow Greyson stayed awake when it came. It was thick in burly clouds of white ash, curling around the dewy plant life. It was too opaque to be fog, but it was too real for Greyson to question whether she was awake or having a nightmare – because when Katniss reached out to touch it, she screamed.
Greyson became on full alert, eyes wide like a deer in headlights as her muscles jolted from the sudden outburst.
"Run! Run! The fog is poison!" Katniss cried out as she reached for Peeta who was in a messy haze between a drowsy sleep and frightening reality.
Greyson couldn't understand anything at that moment. She was petrified for everyone's life and had the single most desire to flee from the scene. So that was just what she did. Greyson held onto a flustered Finnick who had major bed-head, and began running through the slippery jungle. Finnick, who had gotten much more sleep than Greyson, was stronger and more alert than ever.
His pulse buzzed in his ears, jagged breaths spilled from the peaks of his lips, and his palm squeezed so tightly against the small hand of Greyson that he didn't care if he broke it. Once they got out of this damnedarena nothing would matter anymore as long as they were alive. As long as they were safe.
"Come on, come on, come on," he panted as the pearly white mist caught at their backs and burrowed underneath their skin.
Greyson felt her body become spastic and her arms stiffen like a wooden cast had enclosed around her limbs. The fog was relentless. It came from all sides of them and grappled like foreign hands.
Everything happened so quickly.
Katniss fell to the green meshed floor with an uncontrollable jitter, causing Peeta to go back for her and get a blistering face full of fog. He screamed in a never ending pain as the acid of the fog embedded itself into him like razor sharp teeth.
Greyson was littered from head to toe in the little white blisters and boils, as was Finnick who went too close to the wall and burned half his body. She wanted to give up and fall to the ground in defeat. But he was too stubborn to let her do so. "Come on, Grey!" He shouted at her.
Peeta had fallen down, too weak to go on. Katniss was yanking him feverishly as the storm of white raged on towards them. Greyson hated herself as she felt so useless in a moment so perilous as this one. She was being pulled along by Finnick now like a dog on a leash, trailing by his side.
"Peeta!" Katniss cried as Finnick and Greyson reached her and Peeta. Katniss was shaking, both from the fog and from the fear of losing Peeta. Greyson could tell she could barely move; none of them could barely stand. "I-I can't carry him. Peeta, please. Peeta, please stand up. W-We have to go!" She tried to move him more urgently than before with no use.
Greyson was mad at Plutarch. She wanted to cuss him out and tell him to stop trying to kill them when they were the ones who were trying to get out alive, not get blistered to death by some industrialized fog. Plutarch was a rebel, but sometimes he played the game too well.
"F-Finnick," Greyson stuttered. "Just l-let me go."
Horror flashed through his eyes and he leaned forward with a sputter to grip her arm. "Y-You are not leaving m-me."
She held his burning gaze for what felt like thirty years, and she could feel everything; the trauma, the fear of being apart from him, the loss, the grief, the fiery love he felt for her. She knew, even while on a battlefield of merciless killers, that he didn't just love her – he needed her. And she would be lying to herself if she didn't say she wanted to throw her arms around him and hang onto him for until the time of their deaths, because today was not the day she was going to die. She knew that much.
She couldn't speak, only nodded with hot tears lining her eyes. But Katniss' marrowed voice broke the thick moment. "Finnick, we have t-to go."
Greyson noticed that the fog was inching towards them, and as their cue to leave, Finnick and Katniss grabbed one of Peeta's arms and lugged the distressed boy forwards. Finnick didn't let go of Greyson for all the pain he felt increased with each step and every twitch. If he knew she would so foolishly give herself up in a compromising situation, he wasn't going to let her out of his sight.
The four stumbled their way as far as they could manage before dropping like flies. What they didn't seem to realize was that there was a small dip in the ground, a slanted hill that transferred them like rolling logs to a questionably safe part of the arena.
Greyson landed with a thump next to Peeta, her hand slipping from Finnick's. She wanted to close her eyes, seeing that there was no way they would all survive the fog now. She waited for it to consume her, swallow her up into the belly of the beast. But it never came. Instead, she heard the sound of water splashing and cries of pain, then relief a few moments later.
Peeta was dragged away from her and soon so was Finnick. She wasn't sure what was happening, for all she wanted to do was sleep.
All of a sudden, hands were tugging her and she felt herself being dipped into water, the pain of the fog being rubbed out of her skin. She cried out as the hands kept at it until she felt nothing but the slow movements of her muscles and joints remembering the places in her body, her mind feeding them the usual commands to move.
Finnick stared down at her with sopping wet hair, the sadness behind his eyes telling her that he still hasn't forgotten about her little defeat a few minutes ago. She swallowed in her throat and returned the look. Katniss was next to them, watching their connected eyes. She rubbed at her knuckles to make sure all of the poison was out of her system, she did not want to relive anything like that ever again.
"I – " Greyson was about to say but Finnick's eyes moved from hers to a shuffle of movement in the trees. She then saw them, yellow eyes, furry tuff coats, and their animalistic posture suggested one thing: they weren't just for show. They were hungry.
A/N: Okay, don't kill me for updating so late. But be happy because I've switched back to third person and I promise you I'll be staying that way for the rest of the book. Also, I've sorted my shit out, so don't worry about anymore character switches because I know I wasn't the only one who was getting annoyed at myself.
I also repurchased my Catching Fire and Mockingjay copies because I couldn't find them, and I wanted to reread them for the umpteenth time (not even kidding). Yay for me.I really want to leave questions at the end of my chapters because a happy family is a happy Stephanie – ha, see what I did there? Plus, I'm always up for a good discussion (discussions I pretend I win in). So if you'd like those, then answer the ones below. Don't be afraid, the only people who will see them is me, your entire family, the whole world, and the Pope. Jk jk ;)
