Inevitable | PJO

Percy

Thanks to @ClumsyIsMe for voting!

POV: Percy Jackson

Reyna was dead.

It wasn't that I was going to cry for her - she always creeped me out. First with killing that Sherman guy, then her leading Hazel to her death-by-bear. Not to mention the huge hulk of what used to be Frank, but is now sort of brain-dead, eating the occasional bit of bread and sitting in the tent hugging his sword.

The thing was, we didn't know how. Reyna was one of the best tributes in the arena. One of us couldn't have taken her down - it had to have been a Mutt or some other Gamemaker trap.

And that is seriously scaring me.

Annabeth is keeping lookout. We've moved out of the centre, and over to the mountains in the south. Frank blocked up a cave for us, so we had plenty of space to set up the tent.  It's bloody freezing - higher areas always are. I now know why we found most of the other tributes hiding in their caves, despite it being a really obvious, easily trapped place to hide.

Occasionally, we hunt for other tributes. But the ones left are clever - caves have been blocked when we tried to get inside, traps have been set up in entrances, and the guy from 6 almost killed Frank when we found him getting water in the south caves near us.

Reyna's death scared us. Annabeth had let out a little shriek when she saw the picture in the sky, Frank had growled like some sort of bear, and I'll admit that I might have squeaked a little.

Because... She wouldn't have just been killed by anyone or some Mutt or something. There is something terrible, trapped in here with us. It killed her and it could kill us. This must be what people from different districts feel like with us - cornered and petrified. At least us Careers had a larger chance of surviving because of all the training and stuff. They had nothing.

The heatless sun is setting, so me and Annabeth leave Frank on guard and set out. We avoid the 6 guy's cave lower down, and set off east.

The ground slopes so sharply, and our feet sink into the snow so fast, it's hard getting anywhere fast. But we pull each other along, shivering in our coats, weapons in front getting coated in our misty breath. Her hair flashes even with no light. The hard little flashlight in my gloved hand leads the way, revealing the layers of ominous caves.

We walk and walk, silence a little cover around us. This Games is not going to plan. We need to fight the best we can, so we go on, until a pretty orange firelight blinks innocently out at us, flickering a little hello.

It's the boy from 7. His mischievous grin has gone, leaving a frown and a row of floppy curls growing down over his eyes. He doesn't see us. He just gazes into the fire, hands empty, eyes full of complication.

In the end, Annabeth takes pity on him. He barely has time to react to the two arrows in his eye and neck, before kneeling over backwards, his fire burning out. We hear his canon go, and turn away.

The brightness of the dying embers recedes. He's the only one we find. The walk around the arena is made only harsher by the new stakes involved, and our shared guilt as we hold our heads high into the night.

We return back to camp, stashing our weapons and eating a few strips of meat before going back out into the dark to bring Frank back from guard duty on the ledge.

We don't.

_______

The corpse is mangled. His arms have been taken off, his neck mostly severed from his slashed body. His bloodied sword is still clutched in his frozen hands - his attacker probably isn't too well off. Everything is coated in blood: his coat, his jumpers, his body. It's no use trying to clean him up, so we just stand, and watch his progress upwards into the hovercraft.

I don't notice the message slashed in the snow.

_____

I get little sleep that night. Whatever got Reyna probably got Frank too. It's so horrible. I was never trained to handle being the one who got hunted. But the Careers are not in charge now. The monster is. It must be even a nightmare of the Gamemakers. A beast so large, no training will ever defeat it. The Capitol's new pet.

____

Dawn does not bring activity. It brings fear, ice and a distinct need to pee. Annabeth stubbornly stays asleep, so I'm left by myself to think of new tactics: we had a lot worked out from yesterday, but yesterday we had a large, muscled sword to fight for us. Now, we have a skinny blonde girl and me. And we need to take on three others. I'll have to ask her who though. Names might help in a lets-talk-about-this situation. But obviously, you cannot think properly without breakfast, so I rob the stash by the entrance until I'm nice and full. Capitol food might be extravagant and silly, but those burgers are just heaven. Especially with that buttery, yellowy-orange stuff called cheese. Just awesome.

But thinking about food makes me think about my mom. She would make the most lovely fish meals. Most people were stuck with cooked fish and bread, or fish stew and bread, but she would design all sorts of lovely stuff. And then there was Tyson, my half-bro, who would make stuff with the driftwood we found on the beach, and Grover, who would always manage to make me laugh if I was sad. I really want to get back to them all - so much it's a physical pain in my stomach- but I would rather die in here than drag around the memories of the arena. I would permanently be re-living the bloodbath, Reyna killing Sherman, Hazel's death, Frank's body, the sights of the others I hunted, and probably the death of Annabeth, once it comes.

It's a hard decision. Seriously.

So what do I decide? Madness and family?

Or death?

A/N: Sorry I took so long. I was updating AOR! (PJO fanfic)