Life Through Sea Green Eyes - A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Part 1: Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim ownership to any content related to or included in the Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. I write this story purely for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of others, with no intent for making money.

Life Through Sea Green Eyes

Part One: Fish Out of Water

Chapter Ten

          The next morning, I realize that Mags may not actually have infinite funds to help me out. Maybe she’s just been sending me these lavish meals because she’s really bad at picking which gifts to send when. Things do get more expensive as the days pass, after all. So I suggest this as obliquely as possible to Gemma, not wanting to sound like I’m criticizing my mentor.

          “I’m sure the good people of Capitol are being very wise with their choice of gifts,” she says staunchly. In response, another silver parachute floats down out of the sky – beef jerky, to sustain us through the morning.

          Okay Mags, I think, looking up at the sky. I get it. I’ll focus on killing the other tributes, and trust in you to keep me alive while I do.

          I contemplate killing Gemma right now – I hardly need her when I have an ally like the entire female population of the Capitol on my side – but I decide to keep her around for a bit. Who knows? She might come in useful. And I’ve seen her making those lovesick eyes at me, so I doubt she’s planning on doing any backstabbing. Not to mention that I’m actually sort of enjoying her company.

          The avalanche has narrowed the playfield considerably. Everything but the forest is washed out now, so the other tributes must be close. I’m about to suggest trying to track them down to Gemma, when her eyes widen. “Do you hear that?” she whispers.

          Fearing another avalanche, I turn instinctively toward the mountains, but that’s not what Gemma heard. She’s referring to the howling that’s getting louder and louder, coming in our direction. “Muttations?” Gemma asks.

          “Run!” I shout. We don’t really have a destination in mind – just away from the howling. It’s hard going in snow – knee-high in some places – and I figure out pretty quickly that we’re not going to outrun them.

          “What about... a tree?” Gemma gasps as we race through the forest.

          “Sounds... better than... this!” I return, and we start to look for a viable tree to climb. Since neither of us are slouches at climbing, we pick a tall, sturdy looking oak and shimmy up it. We position ourselves about fifteen feet off the ground, where the branches are still thick enough to hold us but where we should – hopefully – be high enough to be out of the mutts’ reach.

          I have knives and spears, two of each, while Gemma has one spear and a half dozen knives. “Don’t throw unless you have to,” I tell her. Although, for all I know, Mags will just send us a parachute full of exactly the weapons we’ll need to beat these mutts. But somehow I doubt the Gamemakers will allow such blatant cheating.

          The muttations burst into the clearing, still howling their grotesque little heads off. They are about waist height, and look like a cross between a wolf and a howler monkey. Their jaws are elongated and filled with jagged teeth, but they have prehensile tails and fingers. I realize instantly that hoping they can’t climb is no longer on the table.

          “Those bastards are better climbers than we are,” Gemma complains. I can feel her shaking beside me, and I don’t blame her. When they howl – there are five of them – every hair on my body stands on end, and I get this visceral urge to run as fast as I can. But since I’m kind of up a tree, running isn’t an option.