four heartbeats {hubris - day 1}
Oct 20, 2016 1:07:54 GMT -5
Post by Python on Oct 20, 2016 1:07:54 GMT -5
There were eyes peeping at her through Ansgar’s wounds – soulless like Celia’s, vacant like Drake’s, piercing her conscience like a spear. Their victory cost the lives of others, but her family’s legacy had been built upon the expense of death and crime. Her nails were painted thick with black market stains. There was nothing new about paying a price with other people’s lives, but there was a difference between standing in front of a corpse on a surgical table, and standing above a tribute who had been breathing two minutes ago. There was a difference between slipping someone a cup of poison and swinging an axe. The intent was a different brand of crime, but that was the irony of it all – this was no longer criminal. It was the Capitol’s entertainment. She could do whatever she wanted, yet she wanted to do nothing at all.
Among the eerily silent aftermath, they gathered their supplies. The abyss on either side of the narrow stone bridge gaped like an earthy mouth, breathing stale winds against their cheeks. She had never been in a high place before; District Twelve was flatlands and dirt hills, and standing over what seemed like the edge of the world filled her stomach with dread. As a group, however, they decided to conquer this challenge. They began their descent into battling fears and taking risks, perhaps the best start to a terrible game. She knew everything about this was temporary anyway. Soon, all or most of them would be like Drake.
”Hey Cinth?”
She thought there would be an echo, but the rift swallowed his voice whole. When she glanced over, Mordecai had a sword to offer. The axe in her hand suddenly felt like stone. A crazy butcher’s weapon, suited for hacking wood and meat. A sword felt more humane. It was a meaningless pursuit of false humanity, but it meant something in that moment. She nodded and exchanged their weapons. What was the harm?
The deeper they stepped into the earth’s jaws, the narrower it seemed. The breaths in her throat were short but calm, because she would not succumb to a fear of heights when a larger threat was lurking around the corner of every rock. They had a grand view of well-sculpted rocks that seemed sturdy beneath their feet. Perfect for expert climbing. A cat could scale these heights without a doubt in its mind that it would reach the surface. Such majestic creatures – and she had spotted one during the Bloodbath. Or had that been an overactive imagination?
”I saw a cat earlier,” she muttered to Cai. She did not distrust Ansgar and Bolts, but there was familiarity in Mordecai. Perhaps that was her own fault for luring him into her bed. Or was he the temptation that lured her?
She didn’t care either way, the fault was her own. She would have to accept it the day she lost him.
”We should catch it. For food.”
She waited for his response. He seemed unhappy – perhaps because he had just killed two people? But even if it was a bit early to start considering their diet, she didn’t want to pass up an opportunity.
A silver parachute winked at them from above the rock walls. She perched herself on the flattest stone she could find, and extended her arms. A large box anchored it toward gravity, into her arms and onto the earth. Inside was a chainmail vest and a tangle of mysterious roots. Protection and food? She nodded in a silent thank you and donned the armor. It felt like a second skin, draped across a frail form. She took the roots and lifted them to her nose. It carried an earthy, sweet scent that reminded her of home. ”I know what this is,” she mused. Valerian root. ”I can lure the cat with it.”
Finally, Cai seemed intrigued. He sniffed the root for himself and noted its pleasant aroma. It was typically used as a treat for those with pet cats – those who could afford not to eat them, at least. An idea planted itself in her head like a seed. A moment later, she pulled off her scarf and knelt beside a rock.
She painted the fabric like it was a canvas, rubbing the root in until its perfume could soak. She could not build a trap, nor had she ever needed to hunt, but it was worth a try. She wrapped the roots up like a present, and set it upon a flat rock. She had a bag of cat food in her leather pouch, and a handful sprinkled next to the scarf would suffice. She didn’t know what the other two thought of their antics, but this was a mission she was set on trying. What else could they do? Avoiding tributes would never last, and there was no need to find a camping site just yet. If this didn’t work – and she imagined, as a rookie, it would take a miracle for the cat to come wandering back – she would brush off the failure and focus on another distraction.
She crouched behind a rock and waited.[ eleraveagant ]
