Sell my Soul⇸Finnick Odair [1]

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Heat was all she could feel as a blazing sun beat down on her - blistering her exposed skin an burning her eyes. They were making it hotter, the desert sand beneath her feet a fiery red in colour. Stumbling through a haze, she searched for the cornucopia tiredly.

A canon boomed in the distance and her jaw clenched. Another tribute fell, one that she wanted to take down on her own. It brought them down to the final two - herself and another.

She picked up her pace, feet sinking into the sand with unsteady legs as she rushed forward. The large structure appeared before her eyes, and her burned and bruised hands tightened around the weapons in her hands - a butcher's blade in one and a large rock in the other. Both stained with blood.

The sun's anger dissipated and she was able to see all around her. The cornucopia standing tall a few meters ahead of her, in front lay the fallen male tribute from 10 with the male career from 1 standing over him. He watched her, blood staining his hands and face - a sword clutched in a tight grip.

He was big, grinning at her as though he already won, a gleam in his eyes that made her stomach churn. He made her furious, adrenaline rushed through her at the thought of a fight with him.

Fear was not something that plagued her while in the arena - she knew what she wanted the moment her name was pulled at the reaping, when her elder sisters stood there letting her get chosen to die, when her family came to visit her for what they believed to be the last time. She wanted to win, and if she didn't then she was going to take as many people down with her.

He came at her slowly, she didn't move. Letting him come to her, she slipped into a defensive stance. She raised the knife in her right arm, the rock hand tucked close to her side.

The career lunged forward, sword swinging at her midsection with a quick stroke. Coated in the blood of the male from her district, she narrowed her eyes at him as she jumped back - dodging the blow.

Using her own knife, she swiped at his outstretched arm, nicking the inside of his wrist. A shout left his lips as he swung again towards her head- narrowly missing his target and striking her left shoulder instead.

Hissing in pain, she swung the rock against the blade of his sword - puling the tip of the blade across her chest and knocking the boy off balance. He grunted and kicked his leg out, hitting her in the side and she went tumbling into the sand.

Flipping to her back she growled, readily waiting for him to attack her. He dived towards her, his steps miscalculated as she feels the sword sink into her hip.

He fell over her, relaxing and she uses it as an opportunity to swing the knife upward - the blade glided easily across the skin at the side of his neck, blood dripping instantly onto her fingers, splashing her face and the knife slipped from her hand.

She flipped them over with a cry, her won blood pooling around him. Using her now free hand, she pulled the sword out of her side with a gasp and threw it to the away.

The career struggled underneath her - a hand holding the cut in his neck, and hips thrusting to kick her off.

A smirk flickered onto her face as she raised both arms above her head - the large rock clutched tightly in both hands. Swinging them down, she forced the rock onto his head. She hit him repeatedly, unintelligible words leaving her lips with each hit. Blood spattered over her face, her arms, her chest - mixing with her own.

And then she froze, legs shakily straightening out so that she stood over him with her chest heaving - the rock tumbling from cold fingers. She turned her face to the sky. A boom sounded.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Sixty-Ninth Hunger Games, Terra Combe! I give you — the tribute of District Ten!"

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