The 45th Hunger Games: The Tribute of District 4 (Watty Awards 2012 completed)

Chapter 19

“I’m sorry,” Slate said, as we kept walking toward the beach.

“For what?” I asked, tying my hair up into a bun that resembled Alta’s. I needed to make sure that my hair wouldn’t be in the way.

“That you’re going to end up being the life source that I’m going to feed on,” he replied, dousing himself knee-deep into the water.

The water was warm on the surface, but started to feel cooler as I went deeper. “That’s the only thing that’s keeping me alive right now, and you’re not the only one doing it. Don’t feel sorry.”

I waded on my back and looked up at the sky. The sun was going down. I was reminded of the day about two weeks ago when I had been watching a similar sunset with Aldo. He was probably watching me right now, mentally scolding me for keeping my guard down and leisurely floating on my back.

The wound on my arm stung, but it didn’t seem to bring infection. Slate had attended to that right after he saw the bleeding back at the Cornucopia.

“Don’t go any further,” I warned Slate as I swam a few feet away from him. The water was up to his chest. He was tall. If it were me standing were he stood, my head would be below the water. “The sand suddenly plummets down a few feet. I don’t know where it starts. I’m not sure I can carry you with my arm.”

He stayed put and looked back at the direction where we came from. He couldn’t do anything else, so he kept guard.

I took a deep breath and went under the water. It was so beautiful here. The water was so clear, and I could see everything even if the sun wasn’t beating down anymore. I saw plenty of fish to catch, but it was difficult to skewer them. They were too fast. I went back up to get a breath of air.

Slate was looking around with worry. “Can you not stay under the water for too long?”

I smiled at him and said, “But how will I catch anything?”

“Just don’t do that. I don’t like feeling helpless if anything happens to you.”

He was a few meters away, and it was a considerably distance that I hadn’t noticed I swam. I swam back toward him with my head above the water this time.

“We’ll need a net. The fish here are too fast, and the only ones worth eating are at the deep end. I can’t spear them under the water because it’s too deep.”

“Let’s do that tomorrow. It’s getting dark and we’ll just have to make do with the food from the Cornucopia.”

When we were walking back, the predictable rain shower came. The other tributes probably ended up at the other end of the island and were a day’s travel away from this stream.

When we got to the camp, we saw that Lark and Taffeta made use of their time by using the large branches and leaves of the trees and used them as a roof. The shells were laid out to collect rain, and so were their jugs.

“Well?” Taffeta asked as we arrived.

“I’ll have to make a net tomorrow. The only fish big enough to eat are in the deep end, and they're too quick to catch by just using the trident or spear. You guys will have to lead them to the net while I wait at the deeper end, to trap them.”

We ate in silence, and after another hour, the rain stopped and the anthem started to play. The faces of the dead tributes showed up in the sky. It started with Chiffon, and then the male tribute from 3. The male tribute from 5 was dead, along with both from 6. Lit’s face was in the sky, because of me. The male tribute from 8 came next. It turned out that I killed the female tribute that was from 9 and her partner was dead as well. The female from 10 was dead, and so were the last four tributes from 11 and 12.