The 53rd Hunger Games- Two Words

40. Muted Noise

Breakfast consists of artificially sweet pear. Hadrian pries the cans open with a knife, almost nicking himself. I look through the supplies. There are medicines, food, weapons, clothing, shelter...more than Hadrian and I could carry. I pick out crackers, dried fruits, cans, and several shiny pots of medicine. Extra weapons seem unnecessary. I hide them in the undergrowth. All the better if Jem and Argus can’t find them.

Hadrian passes me a fork and a can as I set provisions down at his feet.

“I think we head inland, but circle back here later,” he says. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to stay close, if all this stuff is lying here.”

I nod, gagging on the sugary syrup. How does the Capitol stand this rich food? Much of it seems to be overly sugared or overly salted or overly greasy. I’m not used to it, haven’t acquired a taste for it.

Hadrian laughs. “You don’t like peaches?”

“Not when they taste so fake,” I say. I force myself to eat another mouthful. Hunger gnaws at me, and I know I have to eat something.

Hadrian looks down at his own can, not even trying to hide his grin. Of course, he must be used to odd tasting fare, coming from the district where seafood is reeled in. Then again, I don’t know very much about his district.

There is something else that gnaws at me. Every extra second we spend here feels unnecessary. Maybe the other tributes are finally getting to me, but I’m afraid that we’ll be found, a feeling that only increases the longer we say. I fidget, tugging at my hair, playing with my laces. Hadrian is, thankfully, the type of person who gulps food down. Still, we can’t leave soon enough.

The sun peeks over the hills we head towards. Hadrian has his trident strapped to his back, and his sword in his belt. He’ll be able to reach either within a matter of seconds, but I don’t trust myself. My axe is an old friend that belongs in my hand.

The birds start calling, something that I haven’t registered for a while. In a way, it’s the first moment of peace I’ve had in the arena for a long time, if anything in the arena qualifies as peaceful. I keep sneaking glances at Hadrian; his eyes, his mouth. When he catches me looking, his lips twist into a wry smile.

“You know, I’m beginning to think that your obsession with me is bordering unhealthy,” he says. But he reaches out and squeezes my hand anyways.

“I’m not as bad as those smitten Capitol girls. They’d do anything to get their hands on you,” I say.

“What are you trying to imply?” he asks. He presses my hand to his lips and raises his eyebrows at me.

“You’re valuable property.”

“I’m your valuable property, then,” he says. This makes my heart flutter, and I have to avert my eyes. I’m still not used to this kind of affection, the kind that doesn’t come from a family member or someone you’ve been friends with for years. The type of love Hadrian freely gives to me is a rarity. Something to be treasured.

And sometimes, my mind can’t help but wander to dark thoughts. The possibility of his death at my hands. I could, and I hate to admit it to myself, but I could. If I caught him by surprise, I could finish this...this condemned romance.

Hadrian gives my hand another squeeze, and I feel guilty for thinking these thoughts. He can’t hear them, which somehow makes it even worse. How could I? When Hadrian had the best chance at winning, and he gave it up to help me, of all people?

Besides, even when I briefly consider this wild play, I know that my life would be intolerable.  Without Hadrian, I’d step in front of Argus and offer him a knife to carve my throat with.