The Tracker- The 43 Hunger Games

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Talon

I awake to the sobs of Althaea. I'm glad she's finally awake she's been out for three days. District 4 must be doing some very interesting things to keep the end from coming.

"Althaea?" She doesn't answer me. "Althaea?"

She hasn't stopped crying so I walk towards her and kneel beside her. I really hope she's not in too much pain. I hate seeing her cry.

"Hey, do you need something?"

"I... can't breathe. My ribs..." That's all she answers with.

I examine her face and I can tell she's in tremendous pain. She starts to sweat.

"You're losing color again." I take the bottom of my shirt and wipe her face.

I head to the backpack to get the medicine for her.

"What's that?" She asks.

"Medicine, it should help ebb the pain. You're going to have to sit up some."

"No. You don't understand—" She stops mid—sentence, again.

Her eyes fill with tears and I know that she's trying to hold them back.

"Althaea, please. Let me try to prop you up some. You need to take these." I plead.

She agrees and I carefully sit her up. I leave my hand resting on her back. I give her both of the medicines and decide to look at her worst injury.

"Let me look at your arm."

I lift her up and carry her to the wall. I gingerly place her down, letting her lean against the wall. It's very swollen.

"We need to get this into a sling or something," I tell her. I unzip my jacket.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you; you need a sling or something."

I throw my jacket down and start to pull my simple tee shirt over my head.

"Okay, I will just be honest with you. What I'm going to do is more than likely going to hurt. I'm going to have to bend your arm."

I begin walking to her and the fear in her eyes makes her look like she's a small child.

"No, Talon. Please."

I get her to sit up straight and start to stretch out my shirt so that it will work for a sling.

I grab her arm prudently, trying not to put her in more pain than she needs to be. I hate that I have to hurt her to help her.

I bend her arm to put it in the sling and she starts sweating even more than she was earlier. She has a look of fear and pain on her face. I'm extremely amazed that she didn't scream when I bent her arm.

Tears flow down her ashen face. I hate that I did this to her.

"I'm sorry Althaea. I should've listened to you, but your arm's already bent. I'm going to sling it now." I know that this could potentially be a mistake.

I quickly and carefully put her arm into the makeshift sling.

"Stop crying, you're going to make it worse," I tell her.

I kneel back down next to her and start to unzip her jacket that was torn from the fall. I drop her jacket behind me and grab mine. The sun's starting to set and Althaea starts shivering. I wrap my jacket around her shoulders. She has her eyes closed with her head resting back on the wall.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"No." She's speaking so softly that it confirms her answer.

I reach my hand to her forehead to check her temperature. I knew it. She's running a really bad fever again.

I lift her into my lap and hold her. I sweep my lips across her warm face and hum old lullabies that my mother used to sing to me when I was sick.

"I love you Althaea," I say, touching my lips to her ear. I feel her relax and I know that she's asleep.

I sit awake all night looking at the stars and Althaea. As I try to make pictures out of the stars, a parachute hits the ground.

I put Althaea into the sleeping bag and I almost regret it. She was keeping me warm, and since she has my jacket and my shirt, I don't think I'll be getting much warmer.

I lift the parachute and hold it to the moonlight. It contains a syringe with a long needle. I know that it's for Althaea, but I don't know what it will do.

I decide to take my chances and I push the needle into her good arm. She doesn't budge when I do, which is good.

After I take the syringe out, I opt for going to sleep and it comes quickly.