A light breeze whisps past me, forcing me to open my eyes. A wrenching pain seizes through my arm, and I automatically know that I'm in trouble.
Instead of opening my eyes my lips part, though dry and cracked, and my voice comes out in a harsh tone as my throat burns with pain. It's ok, though. I only want to say one thing before I die.
"Thresh?" I croak, and my eyes flutter open.
I can see a shadow before me. I know it's Thresh, because of the figure, even though my eyesight is blurred.
"Finch," he whispers, coming closer.
"You're ok. You're fine..." Thresh's voice was dancing away from my ears, and I strained to stay consious.
"Where..?"
"You were only stung by three tracker jackers. I don't know how to heal the wounds... I... I'm sorry." The desperation in Thresh's voice made me flinch. It made me upset that he sounded so defeated.
I force myself to sit up, for Thresh's sake. My shoulder is weak, and I press my back against a cool, damp wall, feeling as if I'm going to vomit and faint at the same time. The cave, at the same time is comforting. It feels a little like home.
"I carried you back here. But I couldn't get most of the supplies, there wasn't enough time. I managed to pick up my bag, the fishing net and you. But nothing else. Nothing else."
Tears fill my eyes; wavering, waiting to be spilled onto my cheeks. I hold them in, though, not wanting Thresh to know that I too, was in despair. I want to cuddle up next to him, and as I move my ankle, a searing pain bolts through my leg up to my chest and I help, the tears now sqeezing through my eyes.
I look down to my leg, and remember the horror of what had happened what seemed like years ago. The knife that I had tripped over had been taken out of my foot, but a deadly cut remained, scabbed and bloody, a ring of purple and black bruises around it.
"T-Thresh!" I start to panic now, because I know that if I can't run in the arena, I will have no chance of surviving.
"I'm so sorry, Finch," Thresh cries.
"I took out the blade, but I couldn't heal the wound."
I wrench my head back in agony, feeling small trickles of water down my face from the cave's walls. I realise this is my fault. I shouldn't have snuck into the Career's supplies. This never would have happened. Thresh can't save me. I may as well be dead already.
A thought strikes in my head.
"Thresh," my voice quavers, barely under a whisper.
"Thresh, you have to do it. I'm no use to you any longer. I can't run, I can't do anything to help you any longer."
I can see Thresh's warm, brown eyes widen as he realises what I'm asking.
"No. No, no, no. Godammit! Why?!" Thresh slams his wrist into the rocky cave walls, and a sprinkle of dust falls onto my nose.
"Thresh, make it quick. This had to happen sooner or later. Do it. Now!"
What felt like extreme tension ended in about five seconds. A silver parachute drifts through the cave enterance and arrives at my feet. An unknown warmth spreads through me.
"Is that..? Thresh whispers.
I can barely even hold in my shock; I have sponsors? I have sponsors!
I open the tiny object that the parachute is holding. The first thing I acknowledge is the smell; it smells of cherries and reminds me of home, and I suddenly remember how once I had snuck a cherry from my mum's power plant. I press a finger to the gooey substance, and I feel that it's warm.
YOU ARE READING
A Story Of Nightlock.
FanfictionA story of how Foxface, a tribute from District Five of Panem, survives until the final five of The Hunger Games. Ever wonder if she had allies? Love? How did she survive? Did she ever have sponsors? This is how I imagined Foxface in the arena, alth...
