One Fire: A One Direction Fan Fiction

23

23

   The camp was packed up in record time for us, and we left behind the scene Niall and I had just witnessed. Roti was crying and Niall looked like he was ready to burst into tears himself at the loss of Dosa and Gabbi. I hadn’t known them as well as I could have, but they were still our alliance.

   Liam, in the lead, sliced through more foliage as we trekked, and Leah and I, bows readied, shot each time we saw an animal, to save time when we set up camp for tonight.

   Our alliance was down to twelve – a total of half the tributes at the beginning of a game – and there were still four left to die before we had to turn, and begin killing of each other. However, a twelve-way suicide didn’t seem like a bad way to go. If they wanted a victor badly, well, five of us had already brought it up from one, so why not twelve crowns?

   Every so often during our hike through the jungle, we’d have to stop so Leah and I could collect our game. The others didn’t mind if it would save us time and dangerous hunting trips where, so far, enough had been killed already.

   As far as I could tell, we were in the lowlands of the arena, and rising hills were what we had to climb if we wanted to return to high ground.

   Since this morning, we’d seen two more lightning bolts dive down. One of them was somewhere far off in the distance. The next had nearly hit Mousy, who leapt out of the way. By now, I was beginning to wish Arpil would just quit it. We’d run into the other tributes when we were meant to. We didn’t need to be driven together.

   “What’s that noise?” Niall asked, suddenly.

   Our entire group stopped in their tracks. I stretched out my senses, and heard nothing for the longest time, until something distant filled my ears. It was a sound, kind of like a crash, growing louder and louder. It seemed kind of familiar.

   I looked around to the confused faces of those in my alliance. They were obviously hearing it too, but we couldn’t put our fingers on its origin that was, until I saw Louis’s sea green eyes widen. “Run!” he shouted.

   As I bolted behind him with Leah at my side and the others in our pack closing in, I knew exactly where I’d heard the familiar sound before. Last year, in the arena, the first death I’d witnessed outside the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, had been the death of Ten’s female tribute, Rebecca Ferguson. Zayn and Louis had been with me, in the lowlands of the forested arena, when a tidal wave of water crashed down on us. Rebecca had drowned and lost her life, but us three survived. I had the time to take in a breath, before another flood crashed down over all twelve of us.

   I was engulfed in the water, which muted every sound and scream around me. I opened my eyes against the stinging, and fought the current the best I could to try to find some solid oxygen-filled ground. Until I resurfaced, the only thing I could do was go with the current and bump my fellow tributes as we were tossed around carelessly by this natural disaster planned by the Gamemakers.

   As I breached the water, still swimming with my bow in hand to fight the harsh currents, I took in a lung-filling breath, and swam the best I could to the land closest to me, where already a few people sat, drenched. I joined Leah, and Mousy.

   “Are you both okay?” I asked them in a pant.

   Leah had taken her hair in her hands, and was wringing it out vigorously. “I’m fine,” she breathed. Mousy nodded with her.

   Next from the water came the ginger-haired girl from Seven, Cedar. She collapsed on the grass, soaked with water and took huge breaths of air. Roti emerged next and fell beside Cedar. Zayn, assisted by Liam, followed a second after.

   “I’ve been in one too many floods in my life,” Zayn panted, inspecting his hair’s fallen quiff. I knew his extremely bitter attitude stemmed from his inability to swim.

   “Where are Lou and Niall?” Liam asked, “And Dolly and Chiffon?”

   I looked around with the remainder of my alliance. I hadn’t heard any canons go off, so they were still alive. They were just nowhere in sight.

   My brain snapped back to the memories of assurance I’d had in the arena last year. My four toned whistle would help, even if it pissed off the Capitol. I stood and took in a breath, spilling out in a melody my song from last year, waiting for the mockingjays to carry it along in their dark harmonies. I waited, and when I was greeted by silence, I tried again. There was a problem. I looked to Zayn, Liam and Leah, the ones who knew what this meant.

   “There aren’t any mockingjays,” Liam breathed.

   “Correction,” Leah whispered. When all of our gazes were turned on the blonde, she looked up, letting her icy orbs turn onto me, “There’s one.”

   I was the only mockingjay in this arena.