Voices of the Dead: A Hunger Games FanFiction ©

7. Bruno

“I don’t understand, the tracks were fresh and they suddenly disappeared. Where did they go?” Flint grumbled as he paced back and forth.

After watching the house burn to the ground the previous night, we’d come upon some clues that signaled that there had been people inside. Our theory was that whoever had been hiding in that place had been attacked by a horde of mutts. Snabbit and kitanger corpses littered the outer part of the house and it was clear to see that the fire had probably been used as a means of self defense. 

We’d been trailing the two pairs of footsteps we’d found outside of the burning building, young boys by the looks of it, and we’d come to a complete stop when they’d suddenly disappeared. I could only assume the prey we’d been tracking had been the two boys Macon had been trying to protect; there were no other young children alive.

 It was odd though; Macon’s face hadn’t appeared in the night sky, meaning he was still alive, so I didn’t see why he’d suddenly deserted them. Perhaps he’d finally gotten it into his head that the only way to win was to ditch them. It had been silly of him to think that staying together would ever be a good plan.

“The tracks stop here, why don’t you take the left and I’ll take the right?” I suggested as I scanned our surroundings with hawk-like precision, “say we meet back here in thirty minutes?”

Flint nodded and gripped his spears tighter. “Sounds good,” he said before turning and disappearing into the maze of the city.

Jogging at a steady pace, I made my way through various alleys and streets; always alert for any signs of life. The day was brisk and there was as slight chill in the air. I’d been running for about twenty minutes already and knew that I should be heading back soon. My throat was feeling parched, so rather than just turn and head straight back; I sat on a nearby pile of rubble and sipped my water slowly.

I was still mentally calculating how many more tributes were left when I heard it. Not sneaking footsteps or even the sound of hushed whispers. I heard the distinct sound of someone skipping towards me, accompanied by a childish humming. The sound was so jarringly out of place that for an instant I didn’t know what to do. Jumping to my feet, I unsheathed my sword and turned to face whoever was coming towards me.

The figure danced into view, and as my eyes met hers I felt a ping of familiarity. Her eyes, cobalt blue like my own, shone and twinkled with innocent delight. Her dimpled cheeks and golden tresses gave her the appearance of a celestial being. Though I’d only seen her once, on the day of her birth exactly seven years ago, my heart hammered and every cell in my body screamed to embrace her; this child, this infantile girl, this human… my sister, my little Ruby.

How was this happening? How could it be? What was she doing here? Why were they risking her life?

Her innocent gaze met mine, and she clapped her hands together and gave a little squeal. Clumsily running towards me, she laughed and breathed a new air of life into me. My gut wrenched and I went stiff as her feeble arms wrapped around my legs.

I’d fought and slaughtered, brawled and mutilated countless lives. In life I’d gone about things always with a clear point of view, never doubting my decisions, and always completing tasks with certainty. But now, frozen with palpable panic and disbelief, I found myself at a loss; what should I do, what could I say? Was this even real?

“Bruno, Bruno! I found you!” I heard her chime as she pulled her head up to look at me.

I didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t dare break this hallucination. When my parents had come to see me off to the Games, I hadn’t been lying in the fact that I genuinely didn’t feel anything for them. They meant less than nothing; they were no more than names and bodies to which I felt no emotional connection. Simply put, the only real link we had was the fact that I’d happened to inherit their genetics.