After The Storm (A Hunger Games Fanfic)

Nom Nom Nom - 5

Ever creeps through the grass, slightly hunched over, her hair lopsided where it had fallen out and she'd tried to put it back in a haphazard ponytail. Her tummy aches with emptiness. Strands of grass are tied around her wrists and, with her shovel tucked under one arm, her delicate fingers are plaiting absently, flickering around each other. But she's not paying any attention to the action.

She wishes she had Buttons with her. Just somebody to talk to now the grass is ignoring her. It is still hiding her trail but it doesn't want to talk. It is cross with her for disturbing the dead girl.

She thinks about the dead people she has seen. The big man-mountain creature, strangled by the sulky girl who laughed about the Capitas. Ever had hit her with the shovel for that because she'd wanted to kill her, Ever, too. She hadn't said it, she'd pretended she was worried but Ever could see that she didn't mean it.

She saw the sulky girl die too, stabbed straight through by the dead girl. She had been up in her tree, comfortable, and she had seen movement and blood and then the girl and the boy were dying and eventually they died, and she'd sung to herself very quietly and looked away when the robot boy had dragged the bodies into the grass.

Ever Greenmore is used to seeing people die. But not with so much blood.

The world around her is a nice orange-purple like she sometimes sees growing over home from the top of the trees. It reminds her of fire, the warm glow of it in the chill winter, but not the bad kind of fire which is the sort that races from tree to tree and burns everything in its path black and ashy. The kind that makes people cry.

A few stars twinkle up above but she can't tell which picture they're from, and they're pretty on their own anyway. Nice stars. They are watching her. Like the grass, they will look after her.

Ever's uncanny sense of direction pulls her closer towards the Cornucopia.

The moon beams down over the arena, bathing everything in untouchable silver. The moon has seen everything. It watched before Panem, as the world imploded on itself, and it watched the last vestiges of civilization rise out of the ashes. It watched it band together and break apart again, watched the firebombs and the crumbling buildings. It has hovered over all ninety nine arenas under construction, then in use, and it has seen the crowning of ninety eight victors.

Tonight it watches as, on the stroke of midnight, as the anthem is playing across the arena, items appear out of the sky and drift to the ground around the Cornucopia. It finds itself blocked by a picture of a girl, and it listens as a woman's voice resonates over the grass.

"Hello, tributes! It is nice to see you! Would you like something to eat or drink? I'm afraid we can't offer you a seat, but that's okay because you need to be on your toes anyway! Remember, at the crack of dawn all unclaimed items will be vanishing from the arena. But you have plenty of time until then! Use it wisely!"

Tentatively, a shadowy figure pokes its head out of the grass, eyes taking in the scene. Items, boxes, are scattered around like a replica of the bloodbath, except this time they are washed in gentle silver and the golden Cornucopia seems to be all angles and shadows. The figure doesn't stop to pick any of them up, taking refuge instead underneath the cold silver-gold rim.

There is no wind. For a few minutes, there is only the sound of heavy panting coming from the figure; they have run to get here.

Then, a quick rustling noise whips around the edge of the grass, the source not emerging. The figure sheltering in the Cornucopia presses a hand to its mouth and slowly leans down, wide eyes staring out at the eerie emptiness between itself and the grass. Somebody is out there and now they are stuck. This was a bad idea. Perhaps if they stay very still...