Fun & Games[Clove Kentwell]

XVII

XVII: Bloodied hands.

~•~

"Thank god." I whispered, twisting my fingers in the tub of cream and applying it generously onto my harsh burn. My breath became shallow, i chewed my lip in pain. But quickly pain turned into relief as the blistering red soothed. I didnt know what to do with the rest of the medicine and the tub was too big for me to be bothered carrying. Then i remembered the useless glass jar i still had.

A few minutes later, id tossed the capitols tub into the flowing lake and my own jar of spare medicine was tucked into my backpack. At first, I lay against the damp rock and took a few deep breaths as the medicine seeped into my skin. I was particularly used to the Capitol medicine—I used it all the time in training when I was younger.

After I had spent far too much time in the same spot, dreading having to leave the cool environment of water and potential safety, I dragged myself up and began wandering through the forest. My fingers wrapped around a blade harshly, so tight my knuckles turned white, as my anxiety that a career tribute was waiting to pounce sky rocketed.

But they never came.

In fact, it was way past dark when I had settled into a small cave I found near the lake. I was safe, perhaps previously injured, but i was alive. I peered out of the entrance of the cave silently, strategically breathing as to not alarm anything or anyone around me.

My eyes landed on a fire a few miles away, cocky bastards. It was the same place Katniss Everdeen had been found, or thereabouts, so I presumed she had a willpower stronger than iron to still not be dead. I settled near the entrance of the cave, in a small crevice so i wouldnt be seen as easily, and waited for the sky to light up.

Guilt was a powerful thing, a dangerous thing. That was the emotion I pondered on as I attempted to fall asleep. The guilt had already seeped through my skin and I was barely half way through the games. Guilt could be shifted and channelled into different emotions, fear, sadness, anger. I tried my hardest to channel my guilt into anger against the other tributes as I fell asleep, but the only person truly to blame was me.

•••

Leaves crunched underfoot, panting breaths sounded. Thats when I woke up, to the sound of another tribute—a threat to my death—prowling around outside of the cave.

My eyes scanned my surroundings quickly, my heart dropping when a shadow did indeed pass by the entrance to the cave. It was early morning, around six am by the looks of the sky and crisp air, and I was a littlw drowsy from sleep. I swallowed, gripping the knife in my belt.

I stood slowly from my spot on the cave floor, making sure the sleeping back didnt shuffle, and made my way to the entrance.

As soon as I stepped outside, I was pushed against the wall of the cave. A grunt left my throat, my eyes landing on a familiar tribute. Bradley Barnes. The once blue haired boy with innocence in his eyes stared back at me with tears brimming his features. A gash ran from his shoulder to his elbow, dirt caked around it and on his face,