The 1st Quarter Quell

Chapter 22 - Eternal Oath

The sound of the sirens kick-started the adrenaline in Mason's veins. Immediately he swiped up as much as he could before thunder shook the building they'd taken refuge in. Althea pushed down the fright she held for the storms, pulling herself together and readying herself to leave. This time, she made sure her mask was on firmly.

"Are you okay to run?" Mason asked as he moved to support her, but Althea shook her head, pushing him back slightly.

"Whatever that sponsor sent me, I feel just like I did when we first started this thing." Althea chuckled as she reassuringly stroked the knives on her belt, "What about you?"

"I've probably fractured a rib or three and my arm hurts, but I'll manage." He shrugged in order to hide his pain.

"I hope you mean that," Althea sighed before the two quickly made their way out of the room.

As they descended the stairs, the clapping and rumbling of the thunderstorm seemed even more deadlier than the last, and Althea couldn't help but feel as if she'd grown even more fearful of the storms than she was before. She paused for a short while to collect her thoughts, but Mason didn't have time to waste; he wasn't about to let Althea risk her life again just after they'd saved it. He grabbed onto her arm ungraciously and dragged her after him, not sparing a second to see that the storm had surrounded their building.

Arriving on the bottom floor and staring up at the sky in horror, Althea backed up into the building in sheer horror. 

"No!" she shrieked, "I- I can't! I can't go back out- out there!" 

"Althea, we have to!" Mason grabbed onto her arm with such a force her skin bruised, "Would you rather die slowly here or go home?"

"What're you talking about?!" Althea cried, but thunder shook the building, causing Althea to collapse to the floor and crawl backwards into the building. She began rocking on the floor in horror. 

Mason had no other option. He couldn't let her die like this, in fear, cowering away. Something in the back of his mind told him to let her die, even finish her off himself, but he could never do that. Never. He put his tomahawk in its holder and grabbed onto Althea with adamant force. He slung her over his shoulder, biting through the agonizing pain in his ribs and arm and began traversing through the storm.

The sky was a sickly purple colour, the darkness swirling in pools of obsidian and steel clouds. The thunder that crackled loud enough to shake the arena hit the ground like elegant hands with cataclysmic force. Althea writhed and screamed over Mason's shoulder, and he himself had to bite his lip till it bled in order to fight the guilt in forcing her through this. 

They traversed wherever they could; through alleys that would be concealed from the storm cloud, past building blocks that would momentarily have light shed on them, old housing areas untouched by the toxic gas clouds that had their hold on Althea only 13 hours ago.

He felt like they were chasing dust and shadows, that the Gamemakers were just making him run around aimlessly, like they were waiting for the final Tributes to crack. Waiting for them to lose their minds and make the Gamemakers' jobs easy. They would all kill themselves. 

Althea had stopped resisting and had instead began singing to herself, but not without shedding tears of distress and fear. The song, native to District 2, usually sung so sweetly in the markets, was now a sickening serenade that made Mason ill to his stomach. The very thing that was the antidote to Althea's fear was his poison. He didn't want to think about the home he'd never see again, the warmth of his house I'd never feel again, the smiles of admiring faces looking at him, or the pressure of his family, the reputation he was forced to live up to. Althea would never have to have any of that. She never has, and he envied her for that.