Burrowing Deeper [The Honey Badgers (Day1)]

Shayde Lee Truedhart

Sprinting away. The Bloodbath was hell. A hell filled with innocent children only trying to get away, only trying to live. But he couldn't help it, he found himself needing to blame someone. Berkley Icahbod. He had killed him, delivered the final blow that had ended his friend forever. But he wasn't the only one. Sapphire Ross had helped. She had broken his foot, attacked him while he was down, trying to escape the attacks of so many tributes around him. And Micheal Smith. He had attempted to attack Sperring as well. Was no one decent in this world? He left hearing screams of pain and fury behind him, blood pooling and melting the snow that absorbed it. He felt himself wishing for death. The deaths of the District 1 tributes. And the death of Berkley. They deserved death. Didn't they? No ...

Tears were streaking down his face. He tried to wipe them away but they had already frozen to his cheeks. With every breath of the air he choked as it attempted to freeze his throat and lungs. With every exhalation, puffs of his breath were turned visible. His face was stinging. He began to slow down when he could no longer hear the cries of people and the smell of blood. His gray boots were covered in blood. Sperring's. His innocent blood. Basically his only friend. And he was gone. Shayde tried to think back about promising himself not to make friends. Proves that he never listens to himself. What was the point in allies anyways? You would most likely have to kill them anyway, after you have come to know, respect, and possibly even love them. Shayde had certainly seen the last few Hunger Games. He sure wasn't clueless about what happened when people fell in love in the Arena. Nash and Topaz. Razor and Saskia. And of course any other love delusions that were forged by the Capitol. Love only ended in pain.

Shayde slowed to a stop, dropping his hammer and collapsing to his knees. He needed a little break. Back home, he ran at least 3 miles everyday. But District 9 sure wasn't as cold as this damn Arena was, and the slicing air just wasn't natural to his lungs. He glanced at his hammer. He hadn't even used it yet. It was clean. He looked at himself. How had he managed to break Berkley's rib? It was so sudden and so unintentional. He couldn't even remember what exactly had happened. He must have blacked out, or gone into one of his rages. He realized that the rage he had tried to control all his life, was most likely the only thing that would keep him alive now.

Damaris. Shayde shot straight back to his feet, despite his protesting muscles. "Ah damn ..." He had completely forgotten about them forming an alliance. Sure it had been her, Sperring, and him, silently agreeing to it, and Shayde wasn't even really sure if applied anymore now that Sperring was gone, and he had never truly found Damaris to be trustworthy, but it was still something that he had agreed to. And he hadn't upheld that agreement. He felt himself begin to move back towards the way he had come, then stop. He couldn't go back. There just was no way he could get himself to. His mind was in control now and it said to say away from death, stay away from the Bloodbath, sat away from everyone and everything. His only hope was that Damaris had seen him leave, that she had lived to flee the Bloodbath, and that she still wanted to be an alliance.

Shayde sat back down, the cold somehow slipping through his clothing. He pulled his scarf over his face and lay down on his back, looking at the pale blue sky above. He felt himself begin to calm and relax. He was doing it, he was enjoying the Arena. Instead of being smart and making another weapon or setting up a trap, he was gazing at the sky. He figured cameras were on him, somewhere, hiding. Everyone in Panem had their eyes on him.

[Cannons!!]

Shayde counted 9 explosions in his head. Was that right? Nine children dead ... His heart was pounding now, fear rising in his throat. He tried hard to swallow it back but found it impossible. He couldn't help but wonder if Damaris ... if she had ... No. No, that wasn't true, there was just no way that Damaris was included in the 9, none of the cannons represented her death. Was he really in fear for her? Or was it just the fear of being alone in this frozen hell hole? His heart was pounding in his chest. Looking to the sky no longer helped suppress his fears and worries. He could only wish now. Only wish that Damaris would come along and find him here, lying in the snow at the edge of this icy jungle.

"Hello Panem, — How are you today? Oh, me? I'm just peachy. Thanks, - Thank you very much for that."